A favorite poem

I've had this poem for a long time and I just recently found it again as I was cleaning out a box of papers. It's always spoken to me.

The Calf Path by Sam Walter Foss

One day, through the primeval wood
A calf walked home, as good calves should;
But made a trail all bent askew,
A crooked trail as all calves do.

Since then two hundred years have fled,
And, I infer, the calf is dead.
But still he left behind his trail,
And thereby hangs my moral tale.

The trail was taken up next day
By a lone dog that passed that way;
And then a wise bellwether sheep,
Pursued the trail o'er vale and steep,
And drew the flock behind him, too,
As good bellwethers always do.

And from that day, o'er hill and glade
Through those old woods a path was made;
And many men wound in and out
And dodged, and turned, and bent about
And uttered words of righteous wrath
Because 'twas such a crooked path.
But still they followed - do not laugh -
The first migrations of that calf,
And though this winding wood-way stalked,
Because he wobbled when he walked.

This forest path became a lane,
That bent and turned and turned again;
This crooked lane became a road,
Where many a poor horse with his load
Toiled on beneath the burning sun,
And traveled some three miles in one.
And this a century and a half
They trod the footsteps of that calf.

The years passed on in swiftness fleet;
The road became a village street;
And this, before men were aware,
A city's crowded thoroughfare;
And soon teeh central street was this
Of a renowned metropolis;
And men two centuries and a half
Trod in the footsteps of that calf.

Each day a hundred thousand rout
Followed the zigzag calf about;
And o'er his crooked journey went
The traffic of a continent.
A hundred thousand men were led
Bu one calf nearly three centuries dead.
They followed still his crooked way,
And lost one hundred years a day;
For thus such reverence is lent
To well-established precedent.

A moral lesson this might teach,
Were I ordained and called to preach;
For men are prone to go it blind
Along the calf-paths of the mind,
And work away from sun to sun
To do what other men have done.
They follow in the beaten track,
And out and in, and forth and back,
And still their devious course pursue,
To keep the path that others do.

But how the wise old wood-gods laugh;
Who saw the first primeval calf!
Ah! many things this tale might teach -
But I am not ordained to preach.

Postcard From the Ordinary: Oscar Moments

I watched the Oscars tonight - sort of. I made dinner, too, and flipped between ABC and HGTV - salivating over super fab kitchens. I read blogs and tried to read a chapter of a book. I turned the sound off on acceptance speeches, but kept my eye on the screen. And yet I choked up so many times.

Now, I've never wanted to be an actress, nor have I ever wanted to be on the big screen. I did have a moment in theater, when I was a teenager, and it was so fun to be a part of the group, to have rehearsals, to fall in love and date the male lead (who also happened to be a real French count) and to perform in front of a crowd, although that's the part I truly don't remember. I always thought that my parents never came, but my mom said they did.

But I tear up at all the award shows, feeling sad and I generally have a little pity party for myself. I don't wish I was up there or in that industry - I tried that working with Myron a few times and I could NEVER hack it! But it's all about the passion that these people have for their craft, that they followed their dream and that they are reaping the ultimate reward for doing what they love. And that the winners are so darned happy, elated, can't even contain themselves with joy. And I've never experienced any of those emotions. As a matter of fact, when I watch all of this, I feel like I've never emoted in my whole life. I have not followed a dream - because I've not had one. I've achieved in many ways, but almost incidentally. And oddly enough, I've taken it for granted. Kinda like the saying "any club willing to have me as a member isn't worth joining" or something like that. My achievements pale in comparison to, well, just about anyone, really. There's the heroes of the day who put their life in danger to save another's, the business person who rose to top position by being smart, savvy and a good person, all of the people who do their jobs and are the very best at it and are recognized.

I just feel like a fraud. Not as smart as so many, not as talented, not as ambitious, not as passionate, not as committed, etc etc. Please don't think I'm angling for praise or reassurances - I'm not! I am at least fully aware of what I have done and that's what makes me ordinary. I know what I have done and what I have not yet done and I can't seem to get any internal motivation to achieve greatness. The thing I have to reconcile with myself is that I need to be OK being ordinary or take action otherwise ... just don't know how or what right now. So here's to all the Oscar winners - they deserve their moment for being great and I am truly happy for them.

And Now For Something Different ...

Before this week and all its commotion, I decided that I would take Oprah's online class, A New Earth, based on Eckhart Tolle's best selling book. I've always struggled to know what my life's purpose was. Not in the grand sense of why am I here, but while I am here, what am I supposed to be doing. What is my passion? Who am I?

I'm not so sure how this is going to work. I haven't read a book in nearly 7+ years (kids do that), and to read something that's going to make me think and 'work' is ambitious for me. But I am going to give it as much as I can and maybe through this process I will find myself. Not that I am lost, but I've lost a sense of belonging, a sense of community, desire a more purposeful living.

So I'll ask forgiveness in advance if I pepper some blogs with the new stuff I learn, esoteric and philosophical as they may be. I've always been a bit synical when it comes to this stuff. My first thoughts are usually that a human just like me wrote the book, their motivation is to make money and therefore the truth is not to be found there. I feel that way about organized religion as well. So I'll try to set aside my doubts and see if this might help me live a life of purpose from this point on.

Wish me luck!

And Just For The Record - It's Bird Poop

Yes, that's right. The "evidence" the cops thought was the absolute nail in the coffin so to speak - the smoking gun, the paint on Myron's bumper that proved he did indeed run into a car - that's actually bird guano. We went out this morning in the light of day to see what they thought they saw and lo and behold, nothing there. No scrapes, no paint, just regular dirt, dried up water marks and bird droppins smeared from the wind/driving. The license plate that has been bent for a couple of years now, still bent, same as before.

Myron was so pissed off! To be humiliated and handcuffed over bird doo doo is really insulting.

We are still no where near out of the woods yet, so it's infuriating that the police could be so stupid, but they were. And we'll have to pay for their incompetence. Arghhhhh!!

Guilty til Proven Innocent

I am so upset, I am shaking!!!

Do you have those days that are completely normal - things start off just like all your other days ... breakfast, walk the dog, putz around home with your 2nd grader who is on mid-winter break, lunch, head to Pacific Science Center for a little fun, call your wife, pick up your pre-schooler at daycare, chat with other parents, stop at COSTCO for a few items, come home - but then it turns into one of your worst nightmares? Of course not! Many have that kind of experience, but most of us don't. And we certainly didn't think we would until today.

I am still in shock! How do you explain to your super sensitive 7 year old that Daddy will be OK, even though she saw him being put in handcuffs by the police in our own front yard? How do you believe, after seeing so many instances of injustice on TV and in the news, that the truth will in fact prove your innocence? And what will this cost us - in cash and in emotions?

Three Shoreline police officers came to our door tonight, looking for Myron, asked for his ID, had him walk outside to look at his truck and ended up putting him in handcuffs, accusing him of hitting a car and driving off. They say 3 unrelated people saw him do this and took down his license plate, followed him and then reported it to the police. They wanted him to say he did it in return for an accident report instead of the possibility that he'd have to be taken to the police station or go to court. They frisked him, turning his pockets inside out. They intimated he was guilty - threatening him with a jury who under the circumstances would also find him guilty.

The only problem with this entire story ... Myron didn't do it and couldn't possibly have done it. And even though he has evidence proving that he most likely couldn't have (receipts, time lapse, cell phone tower relays, not in the area they accuse him of being in) - they decided he was guilty. And deserved handcuffs no less. Seriously?!?!? Handcuffs for a traffic incident?

Anyone who knows Myron knows without a doubt that he could never have hit a car without stopping to render aid or exchange information. Isn't that what we have insurance for?? Accidents??? He'd be the first out of the car to see if anyone was hurt. His honesty and integrity would totally preclude him from doing the wrong thing and then lie about it to police. We are the kind of people who would more likely to need police help rather than be on the wrong side of the law. In the past, while watching documentaries or hearing news stories about innocent people going to jail or worse, I might let my mind wander to what would would happen if we were unlucky enough to have this happen, and I would tell myself that things like that would never happen to us because we believe in doing the right thing - no matter what the consequences. So how in the world did we end up here?

So your mind then goes to race. I don't want to believe that it has anything to do with things any more, but I'm the white girl. I know I grew up with a different perspective than Myron. He's the one who experienced prejudice and racism - not me. And you really want to believe that in 2008, race in Seattle plays little part in justice. But 3 white cops and handcuffs for a traffic accident? Cooperative behavior, no weapons, no backtalk, no threat. What could their motivation be other than racial profiling?

Next theory: conspiracy. Is someone trying to scam us? If it isn't possible that Myron was at the location "witnesses" say he was, is a group of somehow related people trying to bilk us and our insurance company out of money? Sounds incredible, but this is such a stange situation, that a strange option actually sounds plausible.

Finally - unreliable witnesses. One of my old UW professors - the reknowned Elizabeth Loftus - has made a life of studying and reporting on false memory and false eyewitness testimony, on how people can make mistakes and how memory is unreliable. Is that the case here? Are we victims of a bunch of mistakes that led us to this?

And how are we now suppose to teach our kids that the police are the good guys. How is McKenna suppose to trust the police, who handcuffed her dad right in front of her when she knows he didn't do anything wrong becasue she was with him all day. How do I answer all of her questions when I have no idea what we are in for? And as much as I am trying to stay calm and practical about how we handle this, I can tell that both kids are nervous and fearful as they both had unexplained meltdowns tonight after the incident, just when I couldn't give them the reassurance they desparately needed, because I needed some too.

It might be the adrenaline still pumping through my veins or it could be this cold that just won't go away, but I feel sick to my stomach.

If anyone knows a good lawyer out there, please send info our way. Don't know if we'll need it, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. And tonight, that sounds like a complete oxymoron.

2 Good Family Movies in a Row

Now that we have a nice media/game room and a big screen TV, we watch more movies together. We also belong to Netflix because it really is so darned convenient and we only have time to watch 2 movies a month - so it works out pretty well.

After a personal disaster with Mr Bean's Holiday (no one told me there are few words and Mr Bean doesn't talk) during which I had to go upstairs and find a chore to do or something, we rented The Game Plan (hunky Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson plays football dad to cutesy pie Peyton) and we all loved that one. Even Myron stayed awake for the entire movie and we all laughed out loud. And just this weekend we rented Hairspray. A little more sophisticated for Mac and Juice, but overall fun nonetheless. Only a couple of places required explanation ("Kiss My Ass" was one and the background explaining racial integration was another), but the message was good and John Travolta was HI-larious!

So there you have it for what it's worth. Some good rentals if you haven't seen them yet.

A funny from today's Daily Candy post

It’s Elected! Boogie-Woogie-OogieElection Day Lexicon

Faster than a speeding ballot. Sweeping primaries in a single bound. Look up in the sky: It’s a gimmick; it’s a cliffhanger; it’s punditocracy.

20/20 vision
n. the media’s tendency to blow small issues totally out of proportion for the sake of news show fodder.

Between Barack and a hard place
n. the sphere in which undecided democrats linger to contemplate the electability of candidates.

I heart Huckabeen.
a bad movie and campaign.

It takes a village idiot
phr. a Washington proverb.

Meet Romneys
n. The persistent desire to poke Mitt’s handsome sons on Facebook.

Mock the vote
n. when people too embarrassed to admit they’re clueless about the voting process make awkward jokes to remain elusive.

Over the Hillary
n. undecided voter syndrome wherein the desire to see a woman in the White House is overrun by one’s dislike for Hillary.

PundIt girl
n. the token female analyst who sits at the table with Wolf Blitzer and co.

Scamdidate
n. an unviable aspirant who just confuses the public (see: Ron Paul).

Super delegetsome
n. when powerful insiders use their influence to score dates with campaign managers and candidates’ daughters.

You can get your own by signing up for Daily Candy (see my favs).

When Enough is Enough

I give. I've earned my "tough mom" badge. I finally called the doctor today and went in to get checked for this never-ending cold/cough thing I've been carrying around since Julian gave it to me on January 1st. 7 weeks of feeling cruddy, but not badly enough for anything to stop, is enough. And I'm sure that after coughing loudly either in your ear over the phone (I always get an attack while I'm on the phone) or in your general surroundings, you'll be relieved as well. I do apologize for hacking around everything and I try to be as conscious as possible about not germing up door knobs or handles or anything you might also touch. But seriously one of the biggest reasons is that going to the doctor and taking medication are two of my least favorite things.

But I went today, dragging Mac with me because she spent the day at work with me for mid-winter break (that's a topic for another blog - another school break?!?!?). We were right on time, I gave them money, I filled out the required form in record time and we were taken to the exam room right away. The nurse weighed me (why do I ask? It was unnecessary to point that out to me when I'm already feeling horribly), took my temperature (98.7 - perfect) and took my blood pressure (used the little cuff that clocked my pressure at 150/100 .. Wha??? Way too high for me so she changed cuffs and it came out 120/82 - much better). And then we waited. And waited and waited and waited. I measured and weighed Mac, pretended she was my patient, we played thumb wars and hand clapping games, we listened to her MP3, read a magazine article and she read up on how to prevent breast cancer by examining your breasts - so we chatted about breasts and cancer for a while. She sat on the exam table and I tickled her, we laughed a lot and loudly hoping that we would be annoying enough for someone to come see us. I bet her I knew exactly what the doctor was going to do once he came in: look in my ears, nose and throat, then use the stethoscope to listen to my lungs, ask me 2 questions and then write me a prescription for medicine.

1 hour later, he finally came in, looked in my ears, nose and throat, then used the stethoscope to listen to my lungs, asked me 1 question and then wrote me a prescription for medicine. 5 minutes all told including the first minute and a half putting a bandaid on his finger he got as a paper cut right before coming into the exam room. I really hate to go to the doctor's office!

Went to the pharmacy to get 10 pills - waited 20 minutes, during which time we sprayed every kind of perfume, looked at all the makeup, and rummaged through the Valentine sale. All to get nasty pills that I hate taking.

All I have to say is that this better work, because it's unlikely that I will go back. So there!

Make it Stop!

It started the week before last. A slow spin, then it caught more speed, spinning and spinning and finally today I really felt completely out of control. Does this ever happen to you? You have so much to do, but the more you have and put on the to do list your mind starts spitting out more and more things you need to do, and it happens especially when you can't write things down like on the drive home, in the store, at your kid's basketball practice. Well, I'm there! The tape recorder is winding and re-winding. I'm trying to keep up, but can't seem to make it stop.

Work issues are usually what start it off and I have plenty of those. Staffing issues, big projects that need to be started and finished, a long list of things I need to do to make improvements but my day to day preempts me from moving forward on most of those. I spent much of the evening air talking to one of my staff members, talking myself through scenario after scenario, getting upset with the invisible person next to me, trying to write notes on whatever I had handy so as not to lose key points or connecting thoughts or trails of facts.

But as if that wasn't enough, the household stuff jumps into the fray and now I have months and months of tasks begging for attention in my brain. The flowers outside need to be dead-headed (that was supposed to happen in November!), the pile of papers and other odds and ends in the boxes in the corner of our bedroom must be handled, mid-winter break projects need to be planned for and who is going to be where and when for the next 6 months seems to be a jumbled mess in my head.

These are the times when I most need a break - a sabbatical, time for myself, uniterrupted. But I soldier on, work through the confusion, write down as much as possible so I don't forget and try to forgive myself if something does fall through the cracks. I've been sick since January 1st and have yet to find time to call, let alone see, a doctor. My foot is killing me, but stop for an appointment? Sorry - no time.

I know the rhetoric ... take care of yourself so you can take care of everyone else. Put yourself first. Health is the most important - take care of that first. All well and good, but not as easy to implement. So for now tomorrow is another day and I will attempt to quiet the noise in my head and just get things done.

What's a billion?

My dad sends me these great little nuggets once in a while and I was amazed at this one....

At the government’s current spending rate, a billion dollars was 8 hours and 20 minutes ago!

Remember that:
A. A billion seconds ago it was 1959.
B. A billion minutes ago Jesus was alive.
C. A billion hours ago our ancestors were living in the Stone Age.


Another one:
According to 2005 data:

1. The top 1% of US population (3M people) took in 22.2% of ALL US income.

2. The bottom 50% of the population took in 12.8% of ALL US income.


Yikes!

PS I don't vet these things, so if it's wrong I didn't make it up and I didn't stop to count. But feel free to correct anything - I won't be offended.

When you just need a really good sandwich ...

You gotta go to Grinders! It's a small place on Aurora in Shoreline, but the food is unbelievable!

Mitch is the owner - a really great guy. And he makes the most delicious food. You have to have the stomach for it, though. Lots of grilled onions, garlic, sauce ... they serve forks and knives with the grinders cause they can get messy, but you don't want to miss a bite! And you'll be tasting it for a few hours afterwards, too (just a warning)!

On some Saturday nights they have live jazz and they aren't open on Sundays. They have comfy tables and seating arrangements - some regular chairs around large square tables, some bar stools and bar tables and some sofas/upholstered seats around coffee tables for a more relaxed environment. They stock good wines and import beers, as well as juices. You'd probably never think to stop by just by driving by - they are right next to a muffler shop on the west side of the street. But you'd be missing some of the best grub in the north end if you decide to pass it by.

They are located on Aurora and about 199th (just a couple blocks south of Aurora Village Costco). Let us know if you're going to come up a try them out - we might join you!

Reminiscing

I just found some of the kid's baby pictures on my computer archives. Those days seem so far behind, but Juice just turned 5!

To every parent their child is most beautiful and I was completely breathless by mine as well. And just like many parents, I had thoughts that they could possibly start their famous careers early by being in commercials and advertising. So one day Myron and I did a photo shoot with Mac. These are just two of a hundred or so we took that day. And unbelievably, she had a great time almost the entire day.

I learned my lesson though and after one audition (which I can't even remember now) I determined I couldn't take being a stage mom. They rejected her! How could they?!?! So that was a short lived dream.

I didn't even try with Julian, but he was as spitting image of Mac when he was born. As as cute to me as she was.

My kids are still the perfect kids for me and they still make me laugh and smile as much as they did back then!

Postcard from the Ordinary: Fashion

This time of year never fails to bring on stirrings of feelings, questions about who I am and what I've done with my life and why I am who I am. Not in the great "what-is-life-all-about" way, but "how-did-I-turn-out-this-way" way. I get momentarily pulled into the belief that I should be one way, but recognize that I never will. And if I think I should, shouldn't I or am I OK just the way I am?

This thing is fashion. It's all because of the award shows. Now, I'm not much into TV. I don't even watch the award shows and I've never watched an episode of Sex and the City, so I've never been schooled about Blahnik Manolo or Jimmy Choo (I only know the latter is shoes, 'cause it rhymes with Choo). I couldn't tell a Valentino from a Wang from a Channel. I can't even wear the Channel I have (#5) - too smell sensitive! And those are just the designer's names I remember from reading magazines once upon a time.

I remember one year having to travel by car from Seattle to Spokane with Myron to see my family. He'd just been hired by Microsoft for a gig that required him to sing lyrics to Will Smith's new song "Gettin' Jiggy With It" and he had to learn Will's song by heart, right lyrics and all, so he could sing all the new lyrics written by Microsoft folks for their executives to lip synch to at some conference. Anyway, we listened to that song over and over all 5 hours there and all 5 hours back and one place we both got stuck was the line "You gotta Prada with a lotta stuff in it..." Neither of us had one clue what he was talking about. What in the world was "Prada"? Made no sense and we must have burned that tape out going back over that line again and again. That was pre-McKenna so at least 8 years ago and I can tell you that it was just in 2007 that I realized what he was saying. PRADA. Oh, right! Problem is, I still have never seen a Prada anything. No shoes, no bags, no nothing. Nada Prada.

I'm fashion deficient! I was traveling with my then boss when I worked in an industry considered fashionable to an industry conference where everyone was reasonably into fashion (everyone except me.) We were at the airport waiting to board when a group of gals gathered in the waiting area also boarding our plane. My boss remarked that there was "no way those pants could be real" beacuse the person wearing them didn't look like she could afford them. I had no idea what she was referring to. The pants she was talking about had the label Dolce & Gabbana in gold lettering either across the butt or down the side. I was quite sure that most people could afford something that looked that tacky - they couldn't possibly have cost that much since they looked like something from Mariposa or a teeny bopper shop. Well, I found out later from my Director of Finance who was traveling with us and who recognized my look of ignorance that D&G - regardless of how tacky they look - are really expensive. Who knew? Come to find out at the conference that the person wearing the pants was one of the keynote speakers, owner of several successful shops in Canada and that she really could afford anything she wanted. Never judge a book, right??

So back to my question - how did I get to be this way? Style is not my forte. I do wish that I had some sense if it though. Couldn't I possibly look better if sporting Kate Spade or Stella McCartney? Maybe, but that would require two things I hold dear: time and money. I have shopping attention span of a total of 30 minutes. Including parking the car. So unless the items physically jump out at me, in my size (which is another blog topic), then it's not realistically going to happen. Secondly, I have a family to feed, cloth and send off to multiple life-enrichment activities. The thought of spending $250 on a purse sends my brain into orbit. I didn't spend $250 on clothes and/or shoes for myself in the entire year of 2007! I spent that much on my daughter's entire school year wardrobe. In less than 30 minutes. Thankfully, she's not a clothes horse either.

But I do have moments of envy when I see how beautiful all the beautiful people look on the red carpets and in rag pix. Many of the dresses are gorgeous and I do wish that once in my life I had someplace to go where I'd need such a gown, enough patience to shop for it and the bankroll to buy the perfect one for me. But unless those lotto tickets pay off in this lifetime, its quite unlikely that I will ever look or feel like that.

That's what make me feel ordinary and it's that feeling, not the regret about any dress or shoe or bag, that makes me a bit melancholy - did I miss something wonderful? Did I take a wrong turn? Am I everything I will ever be?