The Last Republican

Nature's answer to Southwest Florida's wild hog problem; photo taken on River Road, next to I-75 & U.S. 41, just south of North Port, Florida. That's within an hour's drive from South Fort Myers.

 It's a warm, lovely day after a long cold spell. This is welcome after a difficult week spent brooming or alienating more "friends" than I unfriended in the whole of last year.

My New Year's Resolution is simple; if your words or actions make me feel inadequate or "less than" in any way, you are ushered back to "acquaintance" status. If your actions were mean spirited or deliberate, you are out of my life.

Seth Godin's blog helped me understand the national mindset:

http://sethgodin.typepad.com/seths_blog/2010/01/the-false-solace-of-vilification.html

Author and marketing guru Seth says:

I've never once heard someone say, "things are really lousy, but I got a chance to really devastate someone today, deliver some choice barbs, some personal attacks, some baseless innuendo and ruin their day, perhaps even their career. Boy, I feel great."


People don't remember how you behave when everything is going great. They remember how you behave when you're under pressure, stressed out and at wits end.

Emotional maturity is underrated.

He ends his blog with:

"The long term solution for marketers (and those that believe in civil society) is to make it socially unacceptable to vent like this. Acknowledge the rage but cease to engage, whenever possible."

I've been doing that. I think. OK, sometimes I get pissed.

Then again, maybe I'm more sensitive than most - I did come off seven years in an emotionally abusive relationship. Maybe I DO have more buttons than a West Point cadet.

I blogged about my first love who came to visit for five days this past December and drove me completely nuts. In the 70s he was a mega-hot Wise Guy; today he's a bloated white Republican with an almost undetectable rug who has found Jeezus and (of course) Fox News.

The two go together like ... kkk and lynch mobs.

I didn't want an old white guy in the White House; and I don't want one in mine either. They are OUT OF TOUCH.

When he was here he belittled me for being a Buddhist as compared to his having Jeezus and me the animal lover/vegetarian to his carnivore/animals belong on our plates mindset.

He had prostate cancer, so I suspect he's shooting pool with a rope; I have not been inclined to check it out. Although he wanted me to.

I locked my bedroom door at night and right now I'm throwing up in my mouth a little.

After blowing up at him at the Sunshine Cafe his last morning here, I thought ... hoped ... we were done being friends. But no, he started calling every few days again like we were an item or something. Like he has some kind of ownership.

He had a project for me, so I told me "this is business - be nice, put up with some shit." The last time I did work for him he waited a year to pay. But we were friends. So it was ok - then. Based on his constant shots, it's NO LONGER OK.

In between talking business - waste management and recycling, what else?? - he has been making subtle accusations that I'm a cougar (I never liked younger men) and he has accused me of looking for Mr. Goodbar. That outdated 70s reference is the story of a sack hopping nympho who came to a bad end. When I met him, he WAS Mr. Goodbar.

I do go out with friends and I would love to meet a wonderful man but I do NOT engage in those behaviors. I remind myself that he's overcompensating - typical behavior for a man whose oak has turned to balsa.

Like the guy on POF who came onto me. His screen name is ORALALAN.

Throwing up in my mouth a little again ...

Note to men: we see through that shit.

Well, Mr. Waste Management Recycling Professional should know a thing or two about recycling. He never heard of the plastic sea. When he was here I promised I'd send him links. This past week I was being nice, creating his recycling promotions while laughing at his shots through grinding teeth.

He called on a Sunday from a bar and told me he needed the brochures Monday morning. I called him a mothereffer and pretended I was joking. Many a truth ... we laughed.

Late Sunday night I sent his brochures as promised, then I sent him a link about the plastic sea. A link that showed birds dying of starvation from ingesting plastics that look like their natural food source. I see it as one of the planet's worst tragedies, unfolding before our very eyes.

How did he react? He wrote back that it was all well and good that I care about animals but he cares more about the people who are dying in Haiti. This is the guy who asked me if I had to choose between my granddaughters dying and my dogs dying, who would I choose. WHO ASKS A QUESTION LIKE THAT?  I would choose the person who asked the question.

Well, in that one last self-righteous superior holier than thou email I was done with his shit. I sent an invoice and said pay as much as you like in monthly payments if that's convenient.

And I sent another email that said I was not a cougar, never was a cougar, that he had been Mr. Goodbar when I met him, that I was not looking for Mr. Goodbar (and in fact had "world class" sex right here from a mega hot Greek God of a guy whenever I wanted it) and that as a RECYCLING PROFESSIONAL he should know a fucking thing about the ENVIRONMENT. Although I warned him the people who CARE about it tend to be the people he hates most - animal lovers and democrats.

He responded with a few emails and I won't even open them. FUCK him. Put a fork in me, I am done.

There seems to be a theme here.

I'm on match. About a year ago I met a man who was very handsome in his photos. I drove out to see him and pretty much needed a machete to hack my way from the car to his front door. I was afraid to get out of my car. (Note photo ... it was taken pretty close to where he lives.)

He was six years older than his photo. They had been very hard years, including the big hurricane ripping through his house, hurting him (as he protected his elderly mother) and wrecking his boats and cars. The insurance company screwed him over, paying a fraction of the true damage.

He and his property look like it all happened yesterday except that he has aged at least 10 years.

And - aside from beating hearts and opposable thumbs - we had nothing in common.

This is where that accursed Michigan politeness forced me to stay JUST AS LONG as was socially acceptable. I followed him on his tour of the vegetation and inwardly beat myself up for not wearing jeans, boots and DEET. Who knew???

He had bought steaks for dinner - fairly presumptuous, but generous. I believe I lied about having other plans and said well sure, we'd have to do this again. When hell freezes over.

Did he get a clue? No. He kept writing as if I cared. (I know how mean that sounds, but "polite" should have a recommended shelf life of two weeks or something.)

For a year I have heard almost daily about the weather and the vegetation and what he's repairing. It has been horrifically boring and excruciatingly irritating. But I thought to myself "this man has no one. I should be kind."

But then we all know I'm a heartless bitch who only cares about animals.

Well, then it got cold down here. Early in the week he wrote what a bunch of assholes those people who talk about global warming are. He laughed about the polar bears and made some insulting comment about the black guy "those fools" got into the white house.

And I wrote back "Do you realize you've been talking to a liberal Buddhist Obama supporter all this time?" Note to self - just start saying that up front.

I haven't heard from him since:-)

Let me say here and now that when I cast my vote for Obama, I knew there was no way he could turn this country around in a few short years. Too much damage has been done. I also knew less intelligent people would have unrealistic expectations. I just didn't realize the social ugliness would amplify to this degree.
 I finally met a fascinating guy this week - I mean really fascinating. He initiated communication. Sounds like a forensic psychologist who works with the police. He bared some of his soul and before writing back I checked his profile. His says Conservative. Mine clearly says Liberal.

I shared information and added "by the way - I'm a liberal Buddhist whose car was slathered in Obama bumper stickers pre-election.

That's the sound of crickets. Haven't heard back.

Talked to another friend today. She said "could that be the reason I get weird emails? Is it because my profile says liberal?!" And I said "yup."

I don't know whatever happened to respecting other peoples' differences. But I do know a friend is someone who makes you feel primary, not secondary - adored, not tolerated - better about yourself, not worse.

One of my last Republican friends jokes and spars while making it clear I'm someone who matters despite our differences. His take? "People are watching too much Fox or too much NBC."

I wrote back "I'm watching Celebrity Rehab because it makes me feel fortunate."

Krappy Karma

I GIVE UP!

I quit Match. Everyone who could be appropriate is either back up north or here hiding like me, watching Scrubs reruns and getting acquainted with The Dog Whisperer. On the bright side, my bitches are finally walking on the leash now! Behind me no less!

I finally get it - THESE are the relationships that matter. They’re loving, cuddly and low maintenance!

Match has been an effing nightmare. Some people assign mystical qualities to computerized matchmaking. Every once in a while I’ll get a hopeful email from some nimrod saying “I was matched to you!”

Well yeah, I have a pulse and I’m in your zip code.

I have met guys who were TWENTY YEARS OLDER than their photos. (I felt so sorry for one old geezer I bought him lunch).

A guy from Pine Island said "I look just like my photo, don't I!" Yeah, except that his hair had gone completely white since it was taken.

One bragged about his tennis and could barely make it off a curb without my hand supporting his elbow.

Another guy posted two photos - in one he looked like the father and the other a son. Yeah, they were both him.

I met an English guy who looked like his photo and was as much fun as I expected; but then - rather than give me a POLITE kiss good-bye - he stuck his dry, round tongue in my mouth.

I am STILL grossed out.

OTHER SLIPS OF THE TONGUE

A few days ago it was coverage of the helicopter pilot who crashed into a pool house in Naples and had to be “excavated” (extricated) from the wreckage.

STAY OFF THE RAIL FOR CHRISSAKES

Our local anchor says it seems like we’re getting more and more of these stories. Another woman “fell” off a cruise ship 70 miles from shore.

They called her a 50-year-old grandmother; based on the photo they flashed, she was a pretty blonde lady who looked like she knew how to party. One shove after multiple cocktails … so much cheaper than a divorce. Or maybe she just got stupid drunk; cruises can do that.

Did we ever find out what happened to Natalie Wood?

RESCUING NATURE’S LEAST POPULAR CRITTERS

Local channels and NPR are covering this one … yesterday five 10-to-12 year old kids were tossing, playing with - and kissing (I don’t make this shit up) - a Brazilian bat on Fort Myers Beach.

I find it encouraging that a good Samaritan stepped forward to rescue the bat. He or she then drove it to CROW - the Center for Rehabilitation of wildlife - on Sanibel.

Apparently CROW sent the bat off for testing and reports came back positive for rabies. Now this town has to track down and rescue the kids who were playing with it. They found two - they need to find the other three. Hopefully it will be local kids and not tourists who may already be thousands of miles away.

Crow is an amazing place, totally dedicated to wildlife. Check it out - http://www.crowclinic.org/.
Last year at the ad agency we rescued a vulture that had been hit by a car while dining on a roadside carcass. He eluded us for two weeks, then finally weakened to the point where our sorry asses had a chance to grab him.

Cast of characters included me, the writer - Rachael the media buyer - Tiana the Account Exec and Anthony, the other Account Exec (and biggest pussy of all). We were running around the concrete and glass office complex trying to corner this giant bird, screaming like six-year-old girls. The people from the other offices are probably still talking about the lunatics at the agency.
So we cornered the vulture in an entryway, got him into a pre-prepared box with holes and stuff (Rachael thinks of everything) and edged the box gently into the back seat of my car.

I knew driving him to CROW was going to make me late for an important meeting, but this feathered soul was more important. And there he was behind me, thrashing and stinking all the way.

I imagined him breaking out of the box and pecking my eyes out; I imagined running off the road and drowning in a slough*.

But I (we) made it. The woman at Crow thanked me and said “not many people are brave enough to capture a vulture.”

Back at the office, the boss wasn't mad at me for what I'd done, he just looked at the four of us like we needed prescriptions for whatever made us this way.

We named the vulture Carl and worried about his welfare.

A few days later I got a call. Carl had eaten a few meals and received good care, but his injury was too severe. Infection set in and he didn’t make it.

Say what you will, vultures are beautiful birds. Their feathers are the color of mink and the wingspan is incredible. They eat our roadkill.

I like bats too. They eat bugs.

NOTE TO PETA ... speaking as a person who lost three years of her life and everything she owned to a tick bite ... someone who NOW walks around with an anaphylactic shock medic alert bracelet on her wrist and liquid Benadryl in her purse in case of bug bite - President Obama was TOTALLY righteous in smashing that fly to kingdom come**.

Peta, you need to lighten the $%& up.

LEXUS’ AGENCY HIRING DISCOUNT TALENT?

Are you as grossed out as I am every time they play the Lexus IS commercial? That’s the one where the guy throws his head back with driving ecstacy, opening his mouth so wide you can see the fillings in his upper teeth.

You’d think this client has enough money for talent with enough money for cosmetic dentistry. Not that I’m in any position to even THINK about a Lexus ever again for the rest of my life.

Or cosmetic dentistry, for that matter.

CARMA

I try to be a good Buddhist. Right now my life is utter SHITTT with THREE Ts so I’m thinking I need to do some selfless things to bring it all back around to GOOD karma. (No, my name is not Earl.)

Two years ago a southern gentleman suitor gave me a vintage white bike. (Never gonna happen … this guy is the cheapest man on the planet.) I used the bike for a while, but you fry after 9 a.m. in this heat and … well, I’ve been staying up half the night and waking up around Ellen.

The white bike has been chained to the rail of my front steps like it’s trying to escape.

Last week someone on Freecycle asked for bikes for kids and I told her she could take the bike. OK, one small chunk of good karma should come back from giving away a bike I might have needed if my piece of shit car ever broke down.

That same week I also went through my closet and started removing things I haven’t worn in a few years. Even stuff I liked a lot. I was going to find a women’s shelter, but I know of a charity that does nice work in Cape Coral.

Today I had to meet a client briefly - and it was out that way - so I put the bags in the car.

It was one of those days where you're proud of doing things you've been putting off. I was giving stuff away, I was organizing my life, I was in the zone - so I decided to do one more thing I didn’t want to do; I called my ex-BF to see how he was.

When I first made the call, I was driving. The man never shuts up. I sat outside CVS for 20 minutes while he told me all about how he was and how his life was and how his business was holding on just fine and never once asked how I was.

I felt like there was something else I wanted to say, but I needed to pee; I told him I'd call him back.

I was in CVS (nice restroom!) when I remembered what I wanted to ask. “Do you think my piece of shit car would be safe enough to drive the 1400 miles up north to see family?” Cool, I'd call him back after I went through the toll booth and dropped the clothes off.

My Saturn SL is 12 years old with about 86,000 miles. It gets GREAT mileage.

It nearly died in the tollbooth. It started screaming, so I turned off the AC. (The heat was about 96 degrees at that point.) Then I noticed the battery light was on.

I made it to Goodwill without incident, but realized I was getting really stressed. There are three expenses I fear most - needing to buy a different used car, needing a new computer, and having the AC in my condo die. All are "about due."

Financially, I am in no position for any of this to happen. Obsessing and oblivious to all around me, I immediately misplaced my purse. It took 10 heart-pounding minutes to find it.

When I got back to my car, it started just fine but it seemed like the steering was suddenly difficult. WTF? My imagination?? Sweat was literally running down my face.

I got my phone wet calling the ex back. He knows cars. He said it was probably the serpentine belt. (?) I told him I was going back to Walmart because the battery light was on and the battery was still under warranty.

Walmart ran a quick check and told me it was the transmission. (I can’t say enough about the guys who work at the auto area at the Fort Myers Walmart at 41 & Gladiolus.)

I asked “how much is a transmission?”

The nice man got a look on his face like “do I really want to wreck her day?” And said “the parts are about $100.” He suggested AAMCO near the Olive Garden.

Ignorance is bliss. I drove away thinking “OK, $100 is doable.” Double-A-beepbeepMCO was closed, so I headed home and stopped at the grocery store “just in case” my car died or something.

Smart move.

Mission accomplished, I pulled up to my condo and turned the car off. Only it didn't turn off. I freaked. The ex-BF was not answering his phone so I called the only smart guy I know down here ... well, the only one I don't work with, the only one who won't call me a dumb blonde, the only one who will be sober at 6:00 on a Friday.

Harry said it was probably the fan and talked me through it. While we waited for "the noise" to stop, I asked how he was. He sounded like different day, different mistakes. His luck is just like mine.

The way my luck has been going, I expected the engine would explode and take out my downstairs living area and upstairs bedroom; but Harry was right - the fan went off after about 10 minutes.

I told Harry I had hoped to go to the beach tonight but obviously THAT wasn’t going to happen. He said he could stop by on his motorcycle and take me. I said “cool - we can both die in a fiery wreck.” (See my biker blog about four blogs back.)

Harry joked that without transportation, I’ll have more time to write. Which explains why this is my longest blog ever.

I am carless.

I am VERY upset because I will probably miss yoga tomorrow. It’s so hot I’ll pass out if I try to walk.

I could ride my bike … but I don’t have one.

Fortunately, I chose a condo in a piece of paradise that is WALKING DISTANCE to everything I need.

If I can stay away from the buttery deliciousness of the Marie Callendar all white meat turkey pot pies in my freezer, I’ll be ok.

I don’t have the stamina (or inventory) to become a drunk.

*Slough rhymes with "new". Known as a deep ditch up north, down here a slough has the potential to become a watery grave with snakes and alligators; or not. I am so paranoid sometimes.

**I met a Tibetan Buddhist monk a month or so ago and we talked about this thorny BUG issue. He said he's allergic too. He said some monks are able to achieve a level of oneness where bugs do not bother them. I don't think I'll be achieving that level anytime soon.

How flawed are YOU?

Went to another networking event at the Edison last night. The first had minimum attendance - this second event was well attended.

Of course we were lured by that first free drink, along with meatballs, pasta, spinach dip, etc.

Meatballs are not easy to eat with plastic forks.

Free food and the first drink is free. I don't know how they're making any money on this. Maybe - as announced - they really ARE giving back to the community.

Speaking as a resident of the advertising - marketing community, I am understandably skeptical. I'm thinking they're doing ok with alcohol sales. Since there was no true structure to the event, it took a fair amount of alcohol to fortify the self-promotion machine.

The Edison could count on the fact that many of us would stay to listen and dance to music by David C. Johnson of The Neville Brothers (a personal favorite of mine - he gives great motown!).

During the networking event I hung with the chicks at a big table at the far end of the room. (I imagine the correct term for single women over 50 would be BROADS - "politically correct" ain't for me pal.) One particular southern gentleman sat with us, but he did so at his own risk. He didn't mind that he was with a table full of women; he minded that they were all from New York. (?!) Suddenly "Michigan" wasn't so "Yankee" after all.

He drawled "can't you hear the accents?" I said "I don't even notice any more."

It was all very tedious - as expected. Well, I have the attention span of a gnat.

The others drank several drinks, I didn't dare. I was wearing a long skirt. I've seen women who've had a few too many tuck their hems into their panties before leaving the restroom. I guess that's ok if you have a perfect ass ...

Which leads me to our discussion of self-loathing. That was fascinating. I think it started with somebody commenting on my skin, which I turned into "well, it's one thing I don't hate about myself". Then someone said "I can think of two things I don't like about me." I was like "Oh hell, I can easily think of five."

Those of us who could think of five or more were in the minority. I thought that was really interesting.

Like I told my best friend the other day, Buddhism isn't about being optimistic or pessimistic ... it's about being REALISTIC. It's about loving yourself and others for who you all REALLY are.

We met a few interesting people. Our unofficial social director glommed onto a hunky massage therapist and his eyes lit up like little stars when she brought him back to us. I got a strange vibe. So appropriate - later we were introduced to his associate who specializes in sex toys.

I dunno, the combination diminished his credibility.

I will end this blog (appropriately) with the fact that one of my favorite crazy girlfriends was hit on by her PROCTOLOGIST last week. She's scheduled for her colonoscopy this coming week.

Euuuuw. Maybe he's buying her dinner first ...

A world where women are in charge.

At Lugu Lake in China, Mosuo women call the shots, own the property, freely choose (and discard) sexual partners and keep the faith, which is a blend of Buddhism and Animism.

As in the Jewish tradition, the lineage passes through the mother. Unlike most cultures, in this one from the tender age of 13 the young woman (girl) is able to choose her partner and begin her sequence of "walking marriages". I saw this on National Geographic last night and was so fascinated I can't get it out of my head.

If you have time for a preview of what National Geographic has covered, take a look at this quick video. When you have more time, track down the full program on cable.
http://video.nationalgeographic.com/video/player/news/culture-places-news/china-mosuo-apvin.html

I'm BORROWING from some websites I found. I'll post links at the bottom.

The isolation of the Mosuo people, who have lived in the remote lower reaches of the Tibetan plateau for more than 1,500 years, have enabled them to preserve a way of life once common in Tibet. Most of the rest of China believes that "it is better to have a dog than a daughter" and women are treated, at best, as second class citizens.

The Mosuo women, however, are free from such attitudes. Indeed, male and female roles are almost reversed: women run the households, hold the purse strings and - to the fascination of their Chinese neighbours - choose their nightly sexual partners.

Relationships among the Mosuo can last for a night, a decade or a lifetime. From the age of 18 women court the local men. After a coming-of-age ceremony, the woman moves from sleeping near the hearth at the front of the house to her own room at the back where she may receive her lovers.

After a time the women settle down, sleeping regularly with the same man, although they do not necessarily stick with him forever.

Each Mosuo household is headed by a woman who lives with her brothers, sons, daughters and grandchildren. In the evening the adult men leave to visit their partners and the fathers of the children of the house come calling. Such arrangements are known as "walking marriages".

In the Mosuo language there are no words for father, illegitimacy, single mother, widow, jealousy, virgin, or monogamy. The explanation is simple: these concepts do not exist.

Men, who have accepted their passive role, hang around waiting to be picked as a mate or to be told to haul fish from the deep, clear waters of Lake Lugu. It is an arrangement that suits one of the fishermen, Ai Le Shan Ma, 38, very well. Sitting by a smoky fire with his "brother-in-law", Shan Ma claimed that walking marriages take the stress out of a relationship.
He said: "Our 'marriage' is better because it is for love only. I come over at night because I want to. If we didn't get on, if we fought all the time, we would split and find other partners."

Though Mosuo men live with their mother, and are not responsible for rearing their own children, they have the duty to help bring up the children of their sisters. In a Mosuo family, uncles are the decision makers on external affairs. They have an adage, "The biggest flying thing in the sky is eagle, the biggest walking thing on the earth is uncle." When they get old, their nieces and nephews attend upon them until their death.

The dominant role of women in Mosuo society is a unique remnant of a life that was once common in this part of China. As ancient wars took away the men, women assumed control.

The tradition has survived only on the shores of Lake Lugu. Perched at an altitude of 9,000ft, the area first came to Western attention in the 1920s through the writings of Joseph Rock, National Geographic's reporter in China, whose work inspired James Hilton's classic novel Lost Horizon.

This chunk is from a great blog I found from a writer who moved from China to Boston:
http://www.insideoutchina.com/2009/01/mosuo-walking-marriage-on-lugu-lake-2.html
All relationships are based on love. A big matriarchal family with tens of members is filled with joy and peace. Children are loved by multiple mothers. Elders calmly enjoy their final years with a loving family. In another thousand years, will we Han evolve to such an ideal state? But the vanguard Mosuo people already began the heavenly life 1500 years ago.

One morning I was photographing a sunrise at the lakeside, and ran into a bunch of tourists waiting for a bus to return to Lijiang. A fifty-ish northern woman was talking volubly. She said, "Yesterday I asked the young man rowing the boat, 'You sing and laugh all day, do you ever have an unhappy moment?' But he asked me back, 'What is "unhappy"?'

I wasn't convinced and again asked a girl who was washing her hands in the lake, 'Are there times that you feel unhappy?' She replied, 'Unhappy? Why unhappy?'"At this point the northern woman got very excited and raised her voice, "Look! They don't even know what unhappy means! They are always happy!"

Her companion replied that nobody can always be happy. The woman argued, "They don't suffer extramarital affairs or property disputes like in our Han families, why shouldn't they be always happy?"Her friend teased, "Sounds like heaven, then why don't you stay here?"

The woman said seriously, "I really wish I were a Mosuo woman!"

That was the moment I understood why my friend has lived here contentedly for ten years.

Links to sources I "borrowed" from:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/asia/china/1327927/Chinese-men-threaten-lake-of-free-love-where-women-rule.html

http://www.insideoutchina.com/2009/01/mosuo-walking-marriage-on-lugu-lake-2.html

The Secret of a Good Relationship?

Once you have lured the object of your desire into your lair, chain him/her to a hook near your bed.

WHO HAS A HOOK NEAR THEIR BED??

Who has a lair, for that matter?

I heard this on the BBC this morning while driving in to work and laughed out loud. You have to look at the link - Boy George isn't the twinkly fairy we knew and tolerated back in the 70s(?).

Now he looks like The Penguin.

http://omg.yahoo.com/news/boy-george-guilty-of-false-imprisonment/16170

Well, The Penguin probably WOULD have a hook near his bed.

So who is this in the photo? Our resident Jamaican Model didn't know ... our Head Designer guessed Dolly Parton ... it is Tina Turner. She is getting slammed for this concert getup.

Despite the fact she's not nearly as attractive as a blonde, Tina is STILL my hero.

It's nice to be this shallow after months of pre-election stress. Of course this morning we all woke up to the crippled auto, mortgage and housing industries. They're throwing around words like "DEEP recession."

All ya can do is work harder, spend less and poke through the scary bullshit for sparkling bits of humor.

And that jackass who is attempting to sue the courts saying Obama is not qualified to be President because he is not American Born??? (Born in Hawaii to an American mom and African dad) ... omigod, that putz can just kiss my liberal ass.

The country has spoken.

The Last Debate; Complacency is the Enemy

The debate Wednesday at the Metro in Fort Myers was very nice ... but it was a fraction of the people who attended the second debate.

I asked my friends why; they thought maybe other Obama-ites feel we have it "in the bag".

No, we can't rest until this thing is DONE.

Anyhoo, after McCain's third "performance" (and behaviors since) I actually feel sorry for him.

Wink News was there at the Metro ... if interviewed afterwards I would have said "McCain is history. Obama will MAKE history." I don't mean McCain "is history" in that he's toast; which is not to say that he isn't. I mean that he has a true place in it.

But Obama will go on to greater things. He has the youth, vision and ability. With him as president, we will regain the world's respect. Maybe we will respect ourselves again.

Speaking of which - there McCain goes, digging himself in deeper every day. The "Arab" remark - something like "no ma'am, he is not an Arab. He's an upstanding family man." As if Arabs aren't. Holy crap fella. One of the most important people in my life was Arab - he was an incredible family man who just about adopted me and acted for many years as a father figure.

And then McCain referenced Hoover. As Grandma would say, "Criminy!"

These days, when people hear "Hoover" they think "vacuum".

On the personal side, there's a lot to be said for keeping a dream diary; they're better than shrinks for telling us what hasn't healed yet.

Last night I was half awake half the night from nightmares of past wounds. I rarely have nightmares; these so intense there was no need to write them down. I was reliving the worst events of the last three years.

I remember some years back I went to lunch with my mother, aunt and Gram; my aunt looked at me and said "you've had a really hard life."

Hell, that was YEARS before it got hard.

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

For seven years I told the exBF he needed to get on the internet.

On a good day I would tell him he was perfect for technology - smart and logical, he would be able to finesse his way through the nooks and crannies of cyberspace as deftly as he wields dual remotes in his quest to conquer Comcast programming.

On a bad day I told him he was a fucking dinosaur.

So about eight months since my last packin' we're talking (on the phone) again and I notice his reactions have changed. Like he knows stuff I don't know he knows.

As if he had somehow managed to go online and find this blog and everything I ever wrote online. And damned if that isn't exactly what he did.

He didn't listen to me for the past three years, but apparently he has read every word of my online rants and heart-dumps as I poured my angst out into the great unknown.

Tonight he said I'm coming off as ... can't remember the word ... as a maniac, obviously new to the world at large and politics in particular and fairly venomous when it comes to McSame and Saracuda.

And he's right. And I apologize for being every bit as obnoxious as the Republican candidates.

I was at Publix the night of the debate. I had just come from yoga ... not pleased with yoga, our instructor du-jour ... du-evening ... had us TOUCHING strangers.

I remember the first time we were told to lie on our backs with arms extended and grab a stranger's ankles; as the stranger slowly inched back. It was SO creepy.

But wow, what a nice stretch.

Well, the other night it was a back and lungs manipulation wherein we were feeling up the shoulder blades of total strangers, pressing and separating. We were arranged by height. My partner was even poofier than me and I couldn't find hers. So I had to fake it, using bra-strap indentations as guides.

I walked away creeped out. And in a little pain from resting my back on a wood block during one of the poses.

So I'm at Publix afterwards and I'm in the checkout - buying all healthy stuff - and get to talking to the checkout lady. She said she was going away and I said where and she said Michigan and I said OOH, where - I'm from there. And she tells me Grosse Pointe and Armada and we are OFF, yacking, and she forgets to give me my $20 in cash back and I had forgotten to put all my stuff onto the turny thing. So after a manager checked her tray to make sure I wasn't doing a scam on the cash, I paid her the cash for the stuff I hadn't paid for.

And we never stopped talking.

I finally told her I had to hurry home for the debates. She said she was recording it. And she leaned forward and whispered "who are you for?" And I said OBAMA. And she sqwoonched her face. And I'm getting gentler lately, a little more sensitive. I told her I think I could POSSIBLY tolerate that old fuck (I didn't say that) if it weren't for Palin. (I did say that.)

She was shocked I don't like Palin. (Don't like is an understatement.) And before she could ask why I said "I'm sort of an animal rights person." And she understood immediately. She said "well, I like you anyway. " And I said "oh ditto!"

And it was fun and I remember her name and it will be good to see her again. We live fairly close to each other in South Fort Myers. I suspect she's a little older than me, working two jobs - teacher by day, checkout lady by night.

Man, does life suck. She said "65 hours a week is what it takes to get by in these days." Between work and creating cheap websites, I'm about there. It is exhausting.

ONE BAG OF GROCERIES WAS THIRTY EIGHT DOLLARS. Where was I when the price of groceries DOUBLED? I don't eat meat ... we're talking soup and veggies. Holy crap.

OK, yeah, one really big bottle of wine.

The exBF is complaining his retirement fund is down 30%. I told him a lot of us don't have ANYTHING to anticipate beyond becoming a burden to our kids.

This week I told a guy friend what "the girls" talked about at brunch a few Sundays ago. We're all 50s & 60s. Wow, that sounds so old. So weird to be suddenly old. Well, I'm not going to take that for an excuse to start being mature now.

We talked about the type of woman who would go to CinCin and find a rich old guy to hook up with. And we talked about what a great deal it is for the rich old guy - so much cheaper than assisted living or a nursing home.

My friend Judy said "wives have always been cheap help."

I was telling this single guy friend about it. He couldn't relate from either end of the scenario, from the woman who would allow herself to be married help or the man who would need the help. ?? Anyone who acknowledges their mortality wonders who WILL take care of them. I told him at this age you're either going to be a burden for someone else or they will be your burden. Better to go alone gently into this sweet night. (I'm sure I butchered that.)

I was looking up great quotes today at work and found one by Virginia Woolf. I didn't know enough about her, so I looked her up. She committed suicide by filling her pockets with pebbles and walking into the river to drown herself. She didn't want to be a burden. She left a love note to her husband that he would be better off without her.

I think in Catholocism you are doomed to hell or purgatory or something if you off yourself. In Buddhism you're going to be reincarnated, so what's the point.

If you're a redneck, you may experience reintarnation. Which brings me to Mike Scott, Fort Myers (or Lee County) Sheriff who introduced Barack as "Barack HUSSEIN Obama".
http://www.cbsnews.com/blogs/2008/10/06/politics/fromtheroad/entry4504484.shtml

Great way to get us in the national news. Aren't we proud.

I thought he was sort of hot until I read that. He would be totally hot if he had eyebrows and a conscience.

Intellectually he's the same as sumo thong cop, the exBF's detective buddy whose obnoxious behaviors hastened my departure.

I read the article about Scott referring to Barack as Barack HUSSEIN and got fired up. The response list was growing in leaps and bounds as I posted "He is guilty of INNUENDO; he's a smart man who knows he will influence the thoughts of actions of those who are less intelligent."

Then I went back to read the responses to date. They were so juvenile, so many typos, rebel flags, bigotry ... I went back and wrote "Do you people realize that the nation - no, the WORLD is reading this? Do we REALLY want to come off like a bunch of hairy shouldered knuckle dragging rednecks?"

No, I didn't post it - I deleted it because I'm afraid one of them will track me down and beat the shit out of me. Or Scott's cop buddies will start targeting distracted blondes with small dogs and Obama stickers. Who sleep with the TV on.

This morning I woke to stories of parents dropping TEENAGERS off at a hospital that had been accepting "children" without questions so BABIES wouldn't get dropped in dumpsters. My mother has told stories of my great aunt leaving her only son at foster homes during times like these.

They're not even calling this a RECESSION yet?

At work we had a meeting and clearly we still have plenty of clients counting on us. We were "brainstorming" (on the cusp of yelling and hammering on the table) when a particularly lame concept was presented. I leaned over to my favorite account exec and whispered "that's the equivalent of a marketing reach-around".

She snorted with laughter.

Everyone is tense. Laughter is a precious commodity. One of our guys was outside looking particularly depressed. I said if business falls apart "there are worse things than helping take care of your parents as they age and your grandchildren as they grow."

Every day I wonder where will I go if/when I lose my job. Will I be able to stay here? Will I have enough webwork to survive? Research shows websites will be even more important to those of us who will have to shift into survival mode.

I could move up north to live with family except that I can't take the cold - and heat is costing my parents FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS A MONTH. That's more than half my mortgage. In Florida I can nearly turn off the air for most of the year and I used my heat exactly once last winter.

Let me end this with what I'm thankful for.

I am thankful for ...

Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert
My job
Where I live
That my family is good - those who need jobs have them, those who are retired are well set
The lunatics I work with
Being in touch with the exBF again
The two friends who told me they want me to live with them if I ever need a place to go
The gorgeous woodland storks that are showing up in South Fort Myers again
And the big white SUV that stopped next to me on Summerlin to block traffic and save a LARGE turtle. (The woman's daughter hopped out and carried it back to the slough.) She said he was really heavy.

I was going to block traffic until he made it all the way across all six lanes. God, I am an idiot sometimes. Maybe one of Sheriff Scott's cops would have caught me and ...

Well that poor turtle had his head and legs tucked into his shell hoping for the best in oncoming traffic.

Don't we all know THAT feeling.

Hopefully the universe holds more big white SUVs and people who care.

Listening Past the "Hot"

This is the Cottage Bar on Fort Myers Beach.

I was dragged out of my condo Saturday by a single girlfriend and we went on one of her marathon tours of beach bars in search of cool guys - no easy task at our age. She made me stop at Parrot Key first, saying she had run into some guys and they were supposed to be there. She said they were "older guys."

I asked "how old". She said "not so old that they wouldn't be fun to dance with."

I said NO!!!!!!

But she whined and got me there anyway. Parrot Key is a wonderful place and they had a dj that night. We found them at a table and the one immediately got up, put her purse on the table and whisked her off to the dance floor. I was left with the drooly loose-lipped guy who had had the stroke.

I remember meeting him at the Estero Singles Dance we refer to as God's Waiting Room. This time I danced one dance ... remembering the horror at Cin Cin just last week with the Beetlegeuse Guy. One dance is polite. More than one is leading them on and personally horrific. He tried to dance couples to fast music and I said I don't do that.

Nobody touches me.

My friend asked if I wanted to stay. NO!! This is a word I am not accustomed to using with such force. I am 57, my friend is 60 - we are both very young for our age, in good health. People in our age group now range from fit and fun to nursing home appropriate.

She asked again. NO!!! I wanted out!!!

My New Years resolution was that I would not suffer idiots. I will also not put myself out and ruin MY evening by being TOO DAMNED NICE.

She dragged me to the Yucatan. It just opened, it's beautiful and has adjacent free parking. If you're not a local, it's not easy knowing where to park. Some pretty young drunk thing with giant fake hooters was singing karaoke -"Baby Got Back". Shaking it.

The fake ones don't shake all that well - they're more hard boiled than over easy. I used to not like mine, but at least they're original equipment. I finally accept them after all these years. Although in this searing heat it's like having four armpits.

We know the woman who runs the karaoke and she looked very unhappy. Apparently Fake Tits was not willing to vacate the stage so someone else could sing. The table of locals behind us was grumbling. It's not easy being local color putting up with drunk tourists.

Finally the local was grudgingly granted space on the stage and the first words out of his mouth were "Baby Got Front Too!" Everyone laughed.

Not me. It wasn't a nice crowd, I couldn't wait to get out.

Lighthouse Tiki Bar was sort of dead. Handcuff Larry was DJ for the night. My friend asked if I wanted to stay and I said NO.

New Kings were blasting rock from the Barking Shark; we walked in and there were two stools at the bar - very rare, precious as diamonds. I wanted to stay. Really hard, loud rock. I love it.

She said NO.

So we went off to the Cottage. This was all getting very old very fast. However - there was a great entertainer at the Cottage! And people at the bar! And two cute single guys our age! One was deeply tanned with blue eyes and a white baseball cap. The other had a shaved head, nice eyes, tasteful tropical shirt and khaki shorts.

I liked the latter. They're from Chicago, were staying at an area hotel and could walk back to their rooms. We joked about one room or two - straight or gay.

The one I liked said he hates faggots. Dealbreaker.

However, he WAS sober. He attempted to soften his remark but it rang in my ears and I focused attentions elsewhere.

My friend went for the other one. I was at the other end of this four-person interaction, being leaned on by a guy (also our age) to my left who was out on a date with a classy younger woman. This guy was HILARIOUS. She looked like she was being patient. I noticed she was drinking water.

I know what it's like to be the patient one drinking the water. Charming and funny when a relationship is new it gets VERY old after some years.

It was a great time. A major hunk directly across from me was flirting and wanted me to come to his side. He was my son's age.

Another guy who I almost had a date with showed up and I felt him behind us waiting for his turn at the bartender. I poked my friend and whispered "the guy behind us is the one I ditched because he got on my nerves."

Weeks ago I explained that I met him at 7 at Lighthouse Tiki Bar and he was hammered and pawing. He violated my personal space. I reminded him I was a local and I have my reputation to think of. He didn't stop.

And he was looming behind me. A giant of a guy. He must have moved into the area, this is like the third sighting.

He whispered "sorry, I'm just trying to get a drink" and I turned around and looked him in the eye. He said OMIGOD ... I am SO SORRY!!! Just on an on. And he said he was leaving but kept coming back. My friend pointed out he was dancing with every skank at the bar and I said "I guess he's showing ME!" She laughed.

At one point he RESTED HIS CHIN ON MY SHOULDER.

This was very annoying. He asked if he was bothering me and I said YES. Just like last time you IDIOT! (I only thought that part.)

At any rate, the hunky bald guy finally leaned over across empty barstools (as our mutual friends danced) and asked what my story was.

He had really nice eyes. He said he had an incredible ability to read people. Arrogance ... red flag.

I told him about moving from Michigan, about the almost seven year relationship that turned abusive, etc., etc. He asked what about me made me choose abusive men. Which pissed me off. And yeah, I explained that I am attracted to incredibly intelligent, complicated men and sometimes that can backfire.

What am I doing explaining myself to strangers??!

When I asked him about himself he was oddly silent. I said "I can feel your walls" and he said "I don't have walls" and I said "yes you do." Then he explained everyone from Chicago needs walls.

Are you married, are you going with somebody? None of the above.

I said "you're Italian." He said yeah and looked a little surprised. We talked some more. The chemistry was there from the start but we finally started clicking mentally.

I haven't had sex in six months. I haven't had good sex in four years. My libido is in a battle with my head, which is what got me into this emotional mess in the first place.

He said I needed to open up and be myself. Another red flag. My book on emotional abuse says to listen to your body when you meet people. I could feel my entire right side tense up. But other parts ...

I said "I'm Finnish - I'm a better listener than a talker." I am who I am and I'm not changing for anybody. I will adapt to a degree that is comfortable, but I will not change.

They asked us back to their hotel. I said I had to go home and let my dogs out. Bald guy said "oh, the dogs are more important." YEAH, THEY ARE MORE IMPORTANT.

How many red flags does a person need.

I can handle going to a hotel with guys - I can have a drink and conversation and go home. But I don't believe in being even a little buzzed and getting behind a wheel. Besides which, I was getting tired and when I get tired, that IS driving impaired.

I suggested we walk down to the Barking Shark. They had heard New Kings and really liked them. It was a nice compromise.

We walked beachside instead of sidewalk. What a gorgeous night ... it had cooled off, the sky was black with a near-full moon behind a haze. There were slight shimmers of silver marking the edge of the water.

He offered his arm for me to put my arm through as we walked. It was very nice. And we held hands. Even though he annoyed me it was super nice.

But New Kings were closing down. The four of us were walking towards Lighthouse Tiki (and their hotel beyond ... I assumed my friend was going with them) when I counted the flags and told myself I'm not even going to BEGIN thinking about anything like that again.

I said I have to go home, I'm tired.

Bald guy was unhappy; I gave him a hug and a kiss.

Ben Stein about Valentine's Day on "Sunday Morning"

We know him as the voice of reason.

This morning he talked about his wife carrying their old dalmatian downstairs so she could go outside and do her business. The dog was sick. He said the dog peed all over his wife mid-way, but she really didn't miss a beat. She took the dog outside. Came back in, carried the dog back upstairs, changed into clean clothes and laid down by the ailing dog.

The dalmatian died the next day.

He said they have something like six cats and three dogs. His wife has no sense of smell ... he figures it has something to do with her trusting nature. He said he loves her.

"We're not young any more." He said one Valentine's Day one of them will be alone. He can't imagine the pain of it. He talked about how his father suffered after the death of his mother ... photos of his dad were in the background. The loss was palpable.

He asks us to remember people who have lost their partners this Valentine's Day.

It brought me to tears. It has been a long time since I saw anything on TV that was so open and honest.