Good Grief

Okay, as much as I dislike those right-wing talking heads they do occaisionally provide some of the best comedy out there. Enjoy.

Sad Day

So it's official. My daughter has dyslexia. I should not have feared an ambiguous diagnosis. She is a classic case in every area in which she was tested. This includes a very high score on her overall intelligence level. Translation: She is extremely bright. She's eight years old. She can't read.

The irony that my daughter has a mother who passionately loves the subtle, rich texture of books, reading, and writing breaks my heart. The permanence of this diagnosis weighs on me. The words "Create a file with everything we are giving you. You will need this documentation for her in middle school, high school, college, and she may need it as an adult" echo in my mind.

Some of the saddest words I've ever heard I heard today when the diagnostician said "Your daughter does not and will probably not ever experience books like you do. Her brain is not wired in a way that will allow her to become lost in the written word. Reading will most likely always be an academic exercise." At this, I laid my head on the table and wept.

Tomorrow I will be busy developing an action plan for my daughter. Flash cards will be made. Books will be bought. A summer program will be chosen. Websites and research will be accessed.

Today. I grieve.

Confessions of a Stepford Wife

Last week a good friend said to me, via email, that she didn't think she had ever met a mom that had it all together. I nodded in agreement. Then she followed with "you seem to though". Uh oh. I've been thinking about this and feel I need to correct this gross misperception. So, my sweet friend, this is for you.

1. My house is always a mess. The window seats in my breakfast room are littered with art supplies, old newspapers, paint brushes, pencils with no erasures, a box from a cell phone I bought eight months ago, and Yuh Gi Oh cards that have kick ass damage points.

2. My truck is always a mess. I have six drink holders in the Palinmobile and never anywhere to put my diet coke for my morning commute. Twice this week trash has fallen out of the truck during carpool drop off. My poor daughter, always being last to tumble out of the truck, had to stop, pick up the trash, and throw it back in before I sped off.

3. I paid the water bill twice this month.

4. My son ate goldfish for dinner last night while my daughter and I ate Chef Boyardee Ravioli out of the can. My son wanted a grilled cheese, but I was out of cheese.

5. Night before last I went to the grocery store at 10:30 PM for milk.

6. Yesterday, my daughter removed her doorknob with the help of four screwdrivers. I took one look at it and decided I would need four screwdrivers before dealing with it. Perhaps this weekend we can hook up my kind of screwdrivers and hers and get the door repaired.

7. My son's teacher just emailed me to tell me that she caught my son researching "chocolate milk" instead of "biomes" in the computer lab. I don't know what biomes are. I will need to google it at some point today.

8. My dad asked me at 6 AM this morning if I thought all the people in the Bush Administration who were responsible for the torture program were going to "walk". I actually said, "Right now. I don't care."

9. I'm fairly certain that I actually growled at my husband this morning when he asked for sex.

10. Today I am wearing the most uncomfortable shoes on the planet. They hurt my back, my toes, and my ankles. And I love them and I have no plans to stop wearing them. They are kick ass cool and I'm willing to sacrifice a lot to be able to wear four inch heels.

Love,

And Then There Was Music

The day cannot be all bad when you figure out how get Pink to play on your blog. The request line is now open.

Love,

An Addition to Yesterday's Quips & Quotes

Okay, this was just too good to wait for the next installment. It didn't come from Stepford, but from Alabama and wasn't said to me, but to my Stepmom.

From my Stepmom's neighbor, "Don't let your mom get any vaccines. Obama has had the swine flu added to vaccines to get rid of all the old people."

No comment on what this might do to our infant and toddler populations.

There really is no shortage of stupid people. Of course, the mere existence of Fox News is proof enough of that.

Quips & Quotes Around Stepford

Alright, I've decided to start keeping a record of all the ridiculous stuff people say to me. Everytime someone says something outrageous I think, "Hey. That could write." But, I rarely get around to writing an entire article out of one stupid quote. So, I've decided to start a series called Quips & Quotes where I can group two or three stupid things together for a quick laugh.

Here is the first installment. Enjoy!

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From my mom after her most recent overdose of Fox News, "If Obama does not stop bussing Mexicans across the border we're all going to have Swine Flu by the end of the week!"

At this, I can only marvel at all the random ways DNA can align itself. I am very, very thankful for my own alignment that has apparently placed all my mom's genes in the recessive slot behind my father's.

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From my brother (who I truly love): "Do you believe in global warming?"

After my WTF pause, I replied: "Noooo. I believe in God. Science does not require me to believe in anything."

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From a fellow Stepford Wife after I disclosed I had taken my daughter to see the Hannah Montana Movie, "Was it appropriate?"

I replied (genuinely confused), "What do you mean?"

She says, "Any inappropriate sexual content?"

BIG WTF pause here. I'm thinking to myself, "I did say the Hannah Montana Movie, right??? I'm pretty sure Disney isn't going to let Miley loose her virginity in a movie geared for eight year old girls."

I did mangage to get out of my mouth, "Um. No. I thought it was fine."

I walked away thinking, "Holy Shit. I'm glad I didn't tell her I took both my kids to see Seventeen Again and my son's new favorite quote is 'Use a condom everytime!'"

I mean, hey, if your twelve year old son has to have a favorite quote, at least it's one that promotes safe sex.

Background Noise

Week before last, while I was raging about the pompous, spoiled teabaggers, someone said to me, "Let that stuff go. It's just background noise. It's unimportant and not worth your time."

Hmpf. I've been ruminating about this. Is it true? Am I wasting my energy on a non-issue? Are the right-wingers so marginalized that for all intents and purposes they are now extinct? Are the Republicans about to go the way of the Wigs? Are those moderates left in the party about to follow Arlen Spector's lead and abandon their failed ideology? Has the ObamaNation successfully stamped out those who would rule exclusively in their own self interests? Has the Berlin Wall of Conservatism really fallen? Are those who have damned us nearly to hell really obsolete?

Hmmmmmm.

I don't FREAKING think so.

I took a trip to the Dallas County Courthouse this week. It is rare that I venture into the city, but work necessitated it. My trip slapped me hard right across the face with what it is so easy to forget when you live in Stepford. Left a bad taste in my mouth with the little realities that we in Stepford can so easily pretend don't exist. Reminded me of the power brokers in Dallas that made it possible for a man with the integrity and intellect of Bush to rise to power in the first place.

Stepford is ninety-eight percent white. The city is not. Everyone from the parking garage attendants to the security guards who rifled through my purse to the clerks who took care of my business were black. I stood in line with whites, rode the elevators with whites, paid for my parking with whites. But, the basic workings of the city are powered by blacks. When leaving the city I decided to take a residential route rather than the tollway. It was getting late and I wanted to avoid a traffic jam and I had not driven through Highland and University Parks in quite some time. I enjoy gawking at the extravagant new architecture of the homes and search out those quaint little originals whose lots would be worth more if someone had already leveled them.

At the edge of the city and Highland Park is North Dallas High School. I came around the corner and hit the school zone minutes after the dismissal bell had rung. My mouth hung open. There were black teenagers everywhere. I searched for a white student. Nada. I hate myself for being so startled. I think about the high school my children will attend in Stepford, state of the art, modern, and very white. It is from another century, another time, another universe from this school. My heart breaks for these kids. Not because they are black, or because their school has a primarily black population. My heart breaks because I know the quality of their "equal opportunity" education is anything but equal or opportunistic. I know my own children will have advantages of which these children cannot dream. The disparity in public education in Texas is shocking and shameful. I hate it.

I moved onto Highland Park and past one of the many prestigious private schools to which those with money in Dallas send their children. I could only only catch glimpses of these students through the manicured hedge rows. Bits of blond and brown hair, pale skin, and the crisp white shirts of their uniforms. It occurs to me the disparity in opportunity between these kids and my own is as great as it is between my kids and the ones at North Dallas High. I refuse to allow myself to feel my children are deprived. They are not. And I know it.

I turn onto my favorite street. On it's corner is a house I'm sure Frank Llyod Wright inspired. I want to live there when (insert publish a book, win the lottery, or strike oil in my Stepford backyard). Then I see why this trip was not a good idea. I knew I was not far from the Preston Hollow street where Bush has made his post White House home. I am still taken by surprise. Yard after yard has the exact same sign. They read "Welcome Home, George and Laura!" As if they know them personally. Then I remind myself, many do. Most probably do. They are old friends, campaign contributors, and faithful supporters. Neighbors. When George and Laura enter a restaurant in Dallas, patrons stand and clap. They are proud. Me, not so much.

Make no mistake. The right wingers may be wounded. They may be temporarily marginalized. But the rich and powerful are still with us and they are still with Bush. They are reorganizing, strategizing, and they will be back. We must stay on our guard, stay engaged in our political process and vote every chance we get. Our future depends upon it. My children's future depends upon it. The children at North Dallas High, very definitely, depend upon it.