While I Was Sleeping

One of the teeny tiny benefits of having the H1N1 virus is the potential to score a narcotic cough suppressant prescription.

(Don't judge me. I was as sick as a broke dick dog and I am completely unashamed of spending most of the last week in a narcotic haze. I would have entertained you with drug induced Twitter updates, but my head hurt too much when I forced it into the upright position.)

I had six straight days of fever and that is long enough to get into a sort of bizarre routine that revolves around medicating, hydrating, eliminating, and sleeping. When I'm sick I don't like to be messed with. This means I like to be ALONE, in my bed, with the dog, with MSNBC playing at the precisely low volume of ten. Ten is the volume on my television which I can hear if I'm awake and paying attention, but not loud enough to prevent me from slipping off to sleep.

I'm still trying to get my groove back and part of my groove is figuring out what happened in the world while I sacrificed a week of my life to H1N1. I have the following snipits, gleaned while in a narcoticly induced semi-coma. I'm just really hoping I have some of this wrong.

Fever Day 1
Someone (I better not find you) dared to befoul the holy grail of automobiles, my new Volvo. Yes, it was egged. I was instantly and positively convinced that the perpetrator of this heinous crime was the same hateful thief that stole my Obama 08 sign last fall. I seem to remember rambling on and on and on about how my poor car had been unjustly targeted because it's loving owner is an Obama-loving Democratic liberal. Somewhere in the middle of this memory is my husband's voice saying, "Yeah, Kristi. It's all about you. Did you not notice the egg shells strewn up and down the entire street? I'm fairly certain you're the only Obama-loving Democratic liberal in all of Stepford, not to mention on our street, so I think your right wing conspiracy theory might have a few holes."

Fever Day 2
Someone (I assume my husband) arranged for a wonderfully kind man to spend three hours in my garage detailing the outside of the Volvo. I remember that this man was tall, had olive skin, and seemed to be purposely keeping at least three feet between himself and me while we spoke. The Stepford Wife that resides in the deep recesses of my mind suggested that I shower and change my sweats prior to going back into the garage to discuss payment. I'm fairly certain I told that bitch to "shut up" prior to crawling back into the bed. When the nice egg eliminator knocked on the door for payment, he asked that I pay him via Paypal. It did not occur to me at the time that he might not want to touch a check on which I may have coughed.

Fever Day 3
I'm fairly certain that this is the day that I showered (which also makes this the last day that week I attempted such a foolish task), but did not take the time to wash my hair. This is also probably the day that the whore's nest of a knot began behind my right ear. Unfortunately, I did not discover said whore's nest of a knot for several more days and by that time - well, see below. This is also the day my mind begins to debate the benefits of accelerating my cough medicine dosage against the very real risk of running out of medication. Overdosing, strangely enough, never entered my mind. This is also the day I begin to believe that everyone in the blogosphere is wearing yellow ribbons until I return to my keyboard. I fantasize that Twitter will wait for me. I'm convinced there is a "Heal Kristi Stevens" group on Facebook.

Fever Day 4
This is the day my brain really begins to simmer inside my head and I become convinced that the very next coughing spell will actually expel my cervix out of my vagina, thereby causing me to be airlifted to the hospital for an emergency hysterectomy. I'm also vaguely aware that the President will be addressing a joint session of Congress on health care reform that evening. In an ironic twist, being deathly ill makes me a lot less interested in health care reform than I am on a healthy day. I remember two things from the President's speech. The first is that about half way through, some sort of bizarre Town Hall meeting broke out. I wasn't sure how the angry teabaggers got past security, but was pleased when Nancy Pelosi made them go away with her death ray stare. The other thing I remember is thinking how much I loved Barack Obama. It is true. If you want me to love you, just starting talking about social justice, moral obligations, the character of our country, and Ted Kennedy. Take that you teabagging heckler (I mean Joe Wilson).

Fever Day 5
This day was the worst. On my cable box, MSNBC is channel 42 and CNN is 40. It's nice that they are close to each other since they are my main two channels for television news. However, there is a problem. Fox News is sandwiched in between on channel 41. I usually avoid this inconvenience by hitting 42, then manually punching in 40 on the remote control, and then using the "last" button to switch back and forth. This way I can pretend channel 41 does not exist on my television. However, sometime during my afternoon nap, which began on MSNBC's channel 42, I think the seventy pound yellow lab rolled over on the remote and switched the channel to Fox News' channel 41. This was very bad. In my semi-conscious dream state, I dreamt that H1N1 had killed me and that I had awoke in Hell where I had been sentenced to spend eternity listening to Glenn Beck's lunatic ravings. This dream transitioned into another where Glenn Beck was actually a televangelist and I was somehow being held captive in his studio audience. Needless to say, when I awoke, I was not at a good place and immediately reached for the cough meds.

Fever Day 6
By day six I was just done. Done done done. I was exhausted, weepy, and I had a golf ball-sized whore's nest of a knot behind my right ear. I thought on and off during the day about trying to sort the knot out, but never attempted it. Instead, I laid in bed all day, watching MSBNC's repeat of the actual news coverage from 9/11, and wept at the injustice of that day for its victims and for that of our country. I cussed Osama Bin Laden, George Bush, and Dick Cheney. I spoke to the television and even purposely switched the channel over to Fox so I would have someone with which to argue. I had hit rock bottom. Then, as if God himself knew I could take no more, my fever broke around 6pm. Hallelujah.

It's good to be back amongst the living.

I Was Distracted And Then There Was The Pandemic

Okay readers. I know. I've been a bit of a downer lately. August is always particulary stressful for me. August is back to school month in Stepford and this year it was full-blown anxiety attack inducing. The Boy started Jr. High - complete with no homeroom, a locker with a mysteriously difficult combination lock, gym clothes, and hookers everyone keeps assuring me are really eighth grade girls.

(Don't judge me. Their breasts are larger than mine and seem to defy gravity.)

The Girl started third grade and her dyslexia program (This is off to a good start and I'll write more about this later). On top of that she decided to run for student council and trust me, you would not have wanted to be on the business end of that discussion had she not been elected. I would like to take this opportunity to thank the election gods for smiling upon me (I mean her).

August also brought the unexpected death of a friend from church and that of Ted Kennedy. Needless to say, with all the emotional stuff, I've been feeling particularly reflective and not my usual snarky self.

I was hoping to get my groove back this weekend with our annual Labor Day End of Summer Lake Bash.

The H1N1 pandemic had other plans.

Oh yes, that's right, the Swine Flu has knocked The Boy out. We're two days into this and no one else in our household is showing any signs of having it, but The Boy seems to have not bottomed out either. Needless to say, I'm displeased (pissed as hell).

I'm soothing myself on the Internet (where all good things come from, right?).

First, see this uber cool little Propel badge in the right sidebar?



Yeah? Well, click on it and enter your butt to win $5,000 over at the You.Propelled site at DivineCaroline. Who doesn't need that, right?




And while you're there? Please go ahead and vote for Stepford Stories for DivineCaroline's Love! This Site Award. God and Milk are kicking my ass right now and we can't have that, can we?





And, since you can vote more than once and the Internet totally owes Aunt Becky right now, please show MommyWantsVodka some love too.

And while you're all busy doing exactly what I command, please go ahead and vote for Mommy's Space too.

Goodnight, Liberal Lion

I had intended for my next article to be about the recent shift in my position on healthcare. I know you'll be stunned to know (not really) that after careful and thoughtful analysis, I've moved further to the left on this issue.

But that article will have to follow this one.


Because things have changed.


Completely.

Totally.

Tragically.

Irretrievably.

Permanently.

Historically.

Politically.

Sadly.


Wednesday morning, at 5:30 AM Central Standard Time, I awoke to the news that Senator Edward Kennedy had died. And since that moment, I've been distracted by the enormity of that loss and the tragedy that he did not live to see the culmination of his life's work.

Senator Kennedy's death has also helped me clarify something I've had a hard time explaining my entire life. His death has brought into focus exactly how it is that I came about my particular political philosophy. My reflections upon his life have helped me to explain how my politics have become the lens through which I judge just about everything.


Religion.

Motherhood.

Stepford.

Friendship.

Living.

Dying.

Right.

Wrong.

And all vast amounts of grey in between.


Senator Kennedy's words are more eloquent than any I could ever write.

"My brother need not be idealized, or enlarged in death beyond what he was in life; to be remembered simply as a good and decent man, who saw wrong and tried to right it, saw suffering and tried to heal it, saw war and tried to stop it.

Those of us who loved him and who take him to his rest today, pray that what he was to us and what he wished for others will some day come to pass for all the world.

As he said many times, in many parts of this nation, to those he touched and who sought to touch him:

'Some men see things as they are and say why.
I dream things that never were and say why not.'

Teddy Kennedy's ideals, articulated with a laser's precision, inspired a generation and some, like me, who followed.

"The poor may be out of political fashion, but they are not without human needs."

"And to all those overburdened by an unfair tax structure, let us provide new hope for real tax reform. Instead of shutting down classrooms, let us shut off tax shelters. Instead of cutting out school lunches, let us cut off tax subsidies for expensive business lunches that are nothing more than food stamps for the rich."

"Finally, we cannot have a fair prosperity in isolation from a fair society. So I will continue to stand for a national health insurance. We must -- We must not surrender -- We must not surrender to the relentless medical inflation that can bankrupt almost anyone and that may soon break the budgets of government at every level. Let us insist on real controls over what doctors and hospitals can charge, and let us resolve that the state of a family's health shall never depend on the size of a family's wealth."

My twelve year old son asked me about Ted Kennedy as I watched his internment at Arlington's National Cemetery. He wanted to know if he knew him. I said, "I don't think you do. I would like you know this about him. He was never apologetic about what he believed was right for our country and he never wavered in his ideals."

I was about to continue when he interrupted me with one of the sweetest things he has ever said to me. "He sounds kind of like you, Mom."

Then, I cried.

These words, spoken by Teddy Kennedy in 1980 when I was but thirteen years old, ring ever truer today.

"For all those whose cares have been our concern, the work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die."

(In)Justice To My Bank Account

For all of you out there without tween girls, you don't know what you're missing on the fashion front. The cleverly named Justice for Girls is all the rage. Stepford has not one, but two, Justice for Girls locations. And any tween in Stepford who is anyone has a closet that looks like this store has vomited within it.

I have previously dodged this shopping bullet by convincing my daughter that this was the "Grandma Store". Meaning that this was the special place that only she and her Grandma shopped and that if I took her there, I would be infringing upon this special Grandma experience. However, Grandma is currently living out of state and my daughter having an outfit from this store for the first day of third grade is apparently a matter of importance that rivals the moon landing.

So it was that I found myself, for the very first time, inside this store last night. Armed with a forty percent off coupon, I was fairly certain this experience would not be too terribly painful.

Wrong.

Justice for Girls did a serious injustice to my pocketbook. This wasn't enirely my daughter's fault. It was just that as she came out of the dressing room in cute outfit after cute outfit, the bill quickly escalated - even with the coupon.





First there was this lovely three piece ensemble."Mom, this cami is SO comfortable. It even has a built in bra!" "And this rhinestone jacket will keep my shoulders from getting cold in class." "And these matching leggings are SOOO cool! Now, I just need some sneakers!"





Which we, of course, we had no trouble finding.
I know, right? They're uber hightops. I couldn't believe it either.





"Mom, I totally need a new swimsuit for the lake. My one from this summer is way worn out and this is even on SALE!"

I know, but I'm kind of big on peace signs (which is what is covering this tankini).






Even though we went to the store with the intention of buying one outfit for the first day of third grade, I did have in the back of my mind that we should probably go ahead and pick up one of Justice's signature sweat suits for when the weather turns cooler. Which is how we ended up with this.






And just tell me you're not a sucker for paint splattered denim? C'mon try.





And well, I wanted this outfit for myself, but it only came in her size so at least one of us is getting a sequined skirt and suede boots this fall.





I do have some self-control. I drew the line at this. The gloves are entirely over the top. So we left this at the store (along with all my money - Grandma, please come home.)

Confession

Here's a confession.

I like to think there is no one funnier than me in the blogosphere. I know it's not true, but I do pretend - a lot - that I am the funniest thing since Cheney shot his friend in the face with buckshot.

However, I'm coming clean today. There is for sure someone, right here in Dallas, that is funnier than I. I must thank my sister for turning me on to him. If you need a laugh, Geoff Johnston and his blog the.hanging.brain can take care of you.

Enjoy.

An Open Letter to Congressman Anthony Weiner

I emailed this letter to Congressman Weiner this morning. I'll let you know if I receive a response. If anyone has the video from the interview Congressman Weiner did on MSNBC's Morning Joe this morning, please send it to me. In case you're wondering, yes I have moved my position from supporting a "public option" to supporting either a single-payer system (Medicare for all) or a system run entirely by the Federal government (VA for all). Thanks.



Dear Congressman Weiner,

Although I live a very long way from your District, I wanted to write to let you know that I saw your entire interview this morning on MSNBC's Morning Joe. I had wanted to post that interview on my personal blogsite (http://stepford-stories.blogspot.com). However, much to my surprise the video is not available on the MSNBC website.

Your interview was the most inspiring, articulate, and easy to understand argument for why we need either a single-payer healthcare plan or a government run healthcare plan and we need it now.

Please know that there are many average Americans that support your efforts and while we may not be yelling at town hall meetings we are equally as distressed that healthcare reform seems to be slipping through our fingers.

I am but one small voice in an obscure part of the Internet. However, I want desperately to do something to help get accurate and much needed information to everyone who this debate affects - which is all of us. Please keep your much needed efforts and focus going. And please let us know what we can do to help you. We absolutely must win this fight.

You are correct. Healthcare is not a commodity. It is a human right. It should no longer be a privilege of only the wealthy or the employed. Please let us know how we can help. There are many like myself who stand ready if only a clear voice will lead us.

Sincerely,

Kristi Stevens

For All My Friends On The Far Left

Stop freaking out about the "drop the public option" talk. It's not going to happen. Sometimes you just have to know how the play the political game. President Obama is smart enough to know that the Senate's healthcare bill won't make it out of committee with a public option (can you hear me booing from here?). However, all we need to do is get a bill out of committee and onto the floor. We can take care of the rest when we reconcile the Senate Bill and the House Bill.

Howard Dean explains this beautifully. The Republicans have played us against each other too long. Hang in there, Left. Keep the faith. We're almost there.

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