last days of Rome

Do you think, in the dwindling days of the Roman Empire, that they knew that it was over? That they would never rise so high, or be so great? Would it be like today in America?

We are apparently considering removing some key tenets of the Geneva Convention out of our troop training books. Specifically, we may permit "humiliating and degrading" treatment of prisoners. The same administration that expressed its sorrow (potentially, if any wrong was done, but still) over the massacre at Haditha, thinks its okay to abuse the prisoners in its care. Kind of like the the foul-mouthed parent that wonders where the f*ck their kids learned to talk like that....

Once, we were a great nation. Now we are a shadow of what we were. Hail Caesar!

out of control

Today has been the day from hell. Not because of the number of problems on my desk, but because of what kind. I am staring at several large problems, with large implications, and no way to resolve them, because THEY ARE OUTSIDE MY CONTROL. I have a company that I have to deal with telling me there is no problem, when there is. I can't fire them, I can't change things from here to make it work, I can't do anything but sit and watch it be a problem. I have a web server sitting off in University-land, with a trouble ticket that is a week old, so far. Again, I can't do a damn thing, but send more nagging emails. We have an SMTP error, again, from a relay outside my control. The damn school keeps sending me more last few days events to attend, throwing my schedule out of whack.

I have to learn how to handle this. Someday.

one of us

"...one of us, one of us..." I'm not explaining the quote. If you get it, you get it. I spent the first part of this long beautiful weekend at Balticon 40 at the Hunt Valley Inn. It was wunnerful. A chance to be truly, completely my self in a grand old geek fest. Wear whatever. Say whatever. Have people get my jokes. Understand the words I use. Use the words I want, instead of the dumbed down vocabulary of every day. Feel thin and beautiful, be treated like I'm thin and beautiful. Feel smart. Be treated like I'm smart. Worship at the feet of the masters. God, to sit and listen to Neil Gaiman, Peter Beagle and Gene Wolfe is a privilege. Its also nice to remember that there are people I admire out there in the world.

It's is an amazing thing to feel like you belong. I spend too much time feeling like a misfit, feeling like I have to hide parts of myself in order to get along.

true geek

I am such a geek! The rest of the US is scandalized by the VA losing 26.5 million veteran's records from a stolen laptop. While I am outraged at yet another screw up by our government, I have a more overwhelming concern. I WANT THAT LAPTOP!!! What was it running that it could hold 26.5 million records and do analysis on the records? WOW!!!

quirks of human nature

I am worried about the fate of an injured horse. He's not my horse. I've never even met the beast, and yet I pore over news reports of his health. Maybe I am so fascinated because I saw Barbaro misstep in the Preakness, and so am "involved" in his story. But I got equally involved in the story of the dog that got drop-kicked by a local jogger, and I was nowhere near that event.

Humans respond to stories about animals. We as Americans raise serious money to protect baby seals. My guess is we raise more money for seals than we do for battered women's shelters. Organizations like PETA fight for the "rights" of animals, but ignore what's happening in Darfur.

Kick your dog, and your neighbor will call the SPCA. Smack your spouse, and chances are they will ignore it completely, not wanting to interfere.

Is this biologically hard-wired? Some mis-directed wiring that causes us to protect our animal food source, but views other people as competition? Is it cultural -- the protecting of the weak, the innocent, a higher priority than protecting those that can fend for themselves?

I see it as a hopeful sign that we can care so much for the plight of an animal. It doesn't seem such a huge leap from there to caring for a person.

oven set to pre-heat

According to new federal guidelines - I am pre-pregnant. My oven is apparently set to pre-heat, and I could pop a bun in there without warning. I had NO idea. Here I am, running around blissfully ignorant of my condition.

So, for my protection and that of any future, possible, unborn children, I am to be treated by my physician exactly the same as a woman trying to conceive. The same physician, mind you, who prescribes my birth control pills, and knows damn well I have NO intention of having more children, and am taking responsible measures to ensure this doesn't happen.

Now, I do understand that it is embarassing on a national level to have such a high infant mortality rate. And no one in their right mind wants more birth defects to occur. But perhaps, perhaps the solution should be education. Perhaps if everyone had the facts of birth control and conception from an early age, we could reduce the unplanned pregnancies that lead to the high rates of infant mortality. Educate people about pregnancy and what happens when you smoke, drink, take drugs. Help people battle addictions.

Treat women as thinking, adult people, and not like brood mares for the next generation. Our bodies are our business.

mirrormask

Mirrormask is not the most usual selection for a family movie night, especially on Mother's Day. In my house, though, Neil Gaiman is like unto a god. He wrote the script, so, we used Comcast Direct to order the movie. We watched about 5 minutes of it, and the sound disappeared. We stopped the movie, and started it up again. Same problem.

It is awful to start to get involved in a movie and then have to stop watching it. So we hopped in the car and drove to Blockbuster, and rented it. Raced home and advanced to our previous stopping point. And were really glad we did.

What an amazing, odd and wonderful movie. I was absolutely mesmerized. I highly, strongly, emphatically recommend the film. But don't watch it if you are too tired, or under the influence of any mind altering substances, as it is rather hallucinogenic all on its own.

food for thought

Food for thought has less calories.

The seven deadly sins:

• Wealth without work
  
• Pleasure without conscience
  
• Knowledge without character
  
• Commerce without morality
  
• Science without humanity
  
• Religion without sacrifice
  
• Politics without principle
  

--Mahatma Gandhi

doubleplusungood

Big Brother is watching. Really. Today's news announced that the NSA is building a database of all phone calls made in and from the United States. Who called who, when, for how long, every single phone call. They say its okay because they aren't eavesdropping on the conversations. Bullshit!!!! It is NOT OKAY.

It is none of the government's business who I talk with on my phone, in my own home. If you think I am doing something wrong, get a f***g subpoena and wiretap me. Until then, I have the expectation of privacy in my home. You can't monitor my mail, my email, take notes of who comes and goes into my house, and damn it, you can't monitor my life.

Bravo to Qwest, which is the only phone company to balk at turning over their records, citing privacy concerns. All the other phone companies have complied with the government's request.

I am an AMERICAN. I have rights, don't I?

really good food

We eat pretty well at my house. I love to cook and try new recipes, and my family is willing to go along for the ride. We have several grocery stores nearby, including that food-mecca, Wegman's. On the weekends, we take advantage of the local farmers markets to get fresh produce and home-made items.

Still and all, there is a real difference between what I churn out in my kitchen, and what I call "really good food". Sunday night we took our parents out to celebrate my dad's birthday and my mother-in-law's birthday. We went to a local restaurant, Petit Louis. It's french food, but as my son says, its not "snooty french".

It was "really good food". No, it was really food porn. I started out with a lovely tart: caramelized onion, morels, grilled asparagus, with slivers of roast duck. The tart was surrounded by a tarragon cream sauce. Unbelievably good. My son had a brochette of shrimp, with red pepper dice and a light lemon sauce. Also wonderful, judging by the 10 seconds it took him to inhale almost a dozen shrimp. He ate a small loaf of bread mopping up the sauce.

For our main dishes, we ordered several and shared tastes. Steak au poivre with a wine and mushroom sauce was meltingly tender and poppingly spicy. I had rabbit with peas, onion and lardons. Lardons are small cubes of salt pork (bacon) that are cooked until crispy and used as a flavoring agent. The rabbit was meltingly tender and the accompanying sauce was so good I almost repeated my son's feat with another loaf of bread. My husband had roast duck with beets and walnuts. Very good -- even the beets. My son had another brochette (keeping to a theme of food on a stick!), this time chicken breast, peppers and onions, with a vegetable saute. This also disappeared, though he had to have some help with the sauteed vegetables.

Of course, we also made room for dessert. Dark chocolate pot de creme for me [think a big dish of truffle], profiterols with vanilla ice cream and chocolate ganache, a flight of 3 homemade ice creams, fresh berries with mint and fresh whipped cream.

"really good food" is food you actually remember eating, whose tastes you can recall days or weeks or months later.

moving in the grown-up lane

The last week has been odd at my house. My husband and I have been called upon to play grown-ups in some public venues. On Monday, we went to the local improvement association meeting. Lots of very sincere people discussing issues with roads, and signage, improving neighborliness, handling graffiti, etc. Earnest and adult conversation. I still wore my skull and crossbones sneakers, but I did leave on the rest of my work duds, so I looked mature and responsible. Sort of.

On Tuesday, we went to a charity benefit for Baltimore Lab School. In "cocktail attire". It is a measure of my current lifestyle that I had to google it to find out what that meant. So it turns out this means a dark suit and tie for gentlemen, and a cocktail dress for me. I had to buy pantyhose, since I wasn't sure I actually had any. I bought some cute heels too. And wore makeup.

When we got there, we even chit-chatted with other guests for a few minutes before making a bee-line for the open bar. See, I can be civilized. Then we admired the spectacular view from the Center Club Harbor Room [you could see all of the Inner Harbor's waterfront], chit-chatted some more. A man in a tux actually hit a portable gong to call us into dinner -- very very bizarre. We found our table, and managed to make small talk with our tablemates, eat dinner, listen politely to speeches, and not make ANY faux pas. Astounding.

Still both events felt a little like playacting to me. I enjoyed both in different ways, but I felt -- constrained. I can't say what pops into my head, and I can't joke the way I would normally, and I can't wear what makes me comfortable. So I can enjoy myself, but with limits.

new addictions

New addictions: CocoVia blueberry almond dark chocolate bars, smoked chicken, gouda and granny smith apple sandwiches at Neopol, baked Lays potato chips, tonic water and pomegranate juice with a squeeze of lime, watching the foxes in the back yard, blogging, reading really bad vampire novels, shuffle play on my iPod, and Comcast on Demand.

I really didn't need a whole list of new bad habits, since I already had a slew of old bad habits. I keep hoping I'll get addicted to: saving money, working overtime, exercise, sprouts, skim milk, 4 hours of sleep a night. But it never happens.

Its the weekend!!!

I have not outgrown that surging soaring feeling that I got when I was a little kid and the confined world of school would go away. The weekend is here!!! The world is full of possibility for two WHOLE days. I can spend my time the way I like, on my schedule, at my own pace. I can sleep late if I want. I can stay up late if I want. Stretch out on the sofa and nap if I want. Family! Friends! Movies! Music! Food! Outside!

Do retired people feel this? or is it a product of "confinement"? If I didn't spend a large chunk of my waking life under someone else's control, would I feel so great on Friday afternoons?

Time will tell.

closing a door

We have been struggling for the last few months with the Baltimore City school system. We had hoped to get the City to take over tuition payments for our son's special education schooling. He currently attends Baltimore Lab, a special education, arts-based school for bright kids with moderate to severe learning disabilities. It is a wonderful school, and he is thriving there. But the expense is very difficult for us to manage.

We had researched the issue. ADA covers learning disabilities. Under the law, our son is entitled to FAPE (a free and appropriate public education) that must consider physical and other disabilities. So we gathered our various test results, medical results, etc and began the public school process.

We met with a team of specialists. They quickly decided our test results were too old to accept, and that they would have to conduct their own tests. Then they went back on that slightly and said they would accept his IQ results, and his medical results. Because he has ADHD, and Optic Nerve Atrophy, they had no trouble classifying him as disabled and eligible for services.

We were very excited, since we thought this would mean an easy process for getting tuition. But it didn't work out that way at all. The test results came back and I attended a very uncomfortable meeting with the specialist team. They decided he did in fact need OT services. They would provide us the maximum allowed --which turned out to be 1 hour per month! I don't think there is ANY therapy in the world that would be productive on that schedule. They decided he would not be eligible for speech language services, despite his dysgraphia. This is because in Baltimore City, speech language does not cover written language disorders.

Then we got to the crux of the biscuit. He is not eligible for special education because he is performing above grade level in almost everything. Because his current school is so effective, he is now reading at beyond a 12th grade level. Even his math tested at 7th grade (he is in 6th grade). So no services.

If we choose to enroll him in our neighborhood public middle school, they will provide an IEP for accomodations for his vision, his ADHD and his dysgraphia, but that's all. No help, just accomodations.

We decided to end the process. We realize that we could take the city to court, and that if we were persistent enough, they would probably fork over money to make us go away. But we both feel that it would be unethical to sue an already financially depleted system, one that can only come up with 1 hour a month for Occupational Therapy for even its neediest students, so that our son can get the optimal education we want for him.

The whole thing has really made me sad. I feel so bad for the kids trapped by lack of means in a system that can't help them, and probably hinders them. I feel bad that the education my son is receiving is not available to everyone. The progress he is making currently shows me that these kids can be taught, and can succeed, if the right methods are applied.

changing AGAIN

changejunkie wouldn't be changejunkie if I wasn't into it. My latest jump -- I am GOING BACK TO SCHOOL. Yup, got the paperwork sitting in front of me. I will be pursuing a Master of Liberal Arts at Johns Hopkins University, assuming they accept me into the program. I of course am going the slacker's route, i.e. very very part time. I figure my tuition remission will cover 1 course per semester, plus one each summer so a whopping 3 per year. But the degree only requires 10 courses, and 1 or 2 of them are the Capstone paper (30-50 pages, fiction, non-fiction, drawings, slide show, movie, whatever...) or a Thesis (120 pages of original research). I don't have to specialize, so I can take art, history, literature, philosophy, whatever. And no overarching theme is required, so I can follow my eclectic tastes to my heart's content. On SOMEONE ELSE'S DIME.

I have always had to pay my own way for school. But as a loyal employee of this fine fine institution, I am entitled to $5600 per year in tuition benefits. So, while I am still entitled, I thought I would take advantage of it. The problem has been that well, you can only use the benefit at Hopkins, and their admission standards, are well, VERY VERY DEMANDING. For example, the IT masters program requires 2 full years of higher order math (calculus or beyond) at the college level for admission. Some programs require a 3.5 or above GPA, outstanding GREs and documented community service.

And then I found the Liberal Arts program. No GREs, just a resume, a reference (which can come from your employer), a 3.0 in your last two years of college, and an essay. Hopefully I can manage this.

Who knew how much fun it would be to go back to school?

home sings me of sweet of things

with apologies to Karla Bonoff. Last night was picture perfect. Beautiful blue skies. Crisp clear light. Wonderfully deliciously warm. My husband and I walked to a local restaurant for dinner. It still amazes me that I can walk from my home to a restaurant meal. We had a delightful Vietnamese dinner and then went for a walk around the block before going home. We ran into some friends from the neighborhood and stopped to chat for a bit, before continuing home.

Once we got home, and checked that our son had not burned down the house while making his supper [yes, he decided to stay home and make his OWN dinner!!!], I sat for an hour or so on the front porch and read the newspaper while soaking up some early evening sun. The breeze would shift, and I would smell lilacs from my neighbors yard. Then it would shift again, and I was treated to the smell of new mown grass. The birds were singing, and for a brief while, everything in the universe was perfect.

This morning, my husband called me out to the back porch at 6am. I am NOT a morning person, but I am so so glad I made the exception this morning. We were treated to an amazing nature show, right in our back yard. A fox was ambling through our back yard. We watched her for a few minutes, and then I went to wake up our son. I told him he had missed a fox, and he was pretty disappointed.

I went out onto the porch a few minutes later, and the fox was back. This time we ALL got to see her, as she hunted and killed a squirrel. Eventually she carried it off, out of our yard. But a little later she was back. She curled up under one of our trees and proceeded to groom herself, roll around on her back in our grass, and generally relax. Amazing!

I really didn't expect to love living in the city so much. And I never expected the diversity of experience, from the sophisticated to the wild, that make it our home.

immigrant song

The recent press about immigration resonates with me on a deeply personal level. I am a first generation American; my parents immigrated from Europe. I was a US citizen before my mother was. While many people say we are a nation of immigrants, I really believe it. Still, I am not 100% behind the immigrant cause.

I do think we have to offer illegal immigrants a chance at citizenship. But it shouldn't be open ended -- I don't think immigrants should be allowed to remain here indefinitely while remaining citizens of their home countries. I resent the "commuters" -- people who want American jobs, and American income, but don't have any plans to commit to staying here as citizens. You don't live here, work here, raise your children here, but remain El Salvadoran, or Nigerian, or whatever. I want to see immigrants waving American flags, not Mexican flags.

America has been strengthened by its immigrants. The true believers in the American dream are those folks that came here to pursue it. The drive to succeed, to sacrifice for future success is stronger in those that fight to come here, and fight to stay here, than in those who view success as our birthright, just for being American. I think the country needs these people.

everything fades

Old age is scaring me. Not my age, thanks very much, but my parents. This weekend my mom went mall-walking at Arundel Mills. She does this every weekend with my father, because the mall is very well laid out, like a track. They have measured the loop with a pedometer, so they know how many circuits equals a mile. Mom slipped this time, and fell. Her wrist was hurting so she and Dad cut their walk short and went home. The next day, her wrist was worse, so she went to the doctor. She broke it in 4 places and is in a hard cast. Mom is only 74 years old. When I went to visit her yesterday, she looked old, and suddenly frail. I am so not ready for the change in my parents, and even less ready to acknowledge that I am on the same path. I too will be 74, fates willing, and watch my body betray me in hundreds of little ways. Will I look in the mirror and see 74, or will I, through the deceptive power of the mind, see 32? Or 22? Do you notice the lines? do you understand that you are forgetting more than you remember? Do you feel your bones lose their strength?

Everything ends. I can handle that. I am struggling with the thought that everything fades.

playground wars, chapter two

Parenthood is weird. It has a way of throwing your own childhood back at you, with all the insecurities and difficulties that went with it. As my child's social life expands, it gets more complex -- for me. Sometimes I don't like a kid my child likes. On this one, I am pretty sure how to handle it. I keep a watchful eye, but that's it. I know enough to know to never never ever tell a child not to hang out with someone. It makes that person the most attractive person in the universe to them.

I'm on rougher ground with parents of friends. Sometimes I really really like them, which is great. Because then you can hang out with the parents, and the kids can hang together and everybody's happy. Sometimes, I can't stand the parents, but have to make nice, in the interest of making sure my child has a decent social life.

My current dilemma is a tough one. I really really like this kid's parents. And the kid really really likes my son. And my son, well he thinks the kid is kind of a jerk. So the parents call to arrange get-togethers for the kids. And I know I should say something. "I enjoy your company, but my son doesn't really click with your kid", but somehow those words just won't come out of my mouth.

I feel exactly like I felt when I was nine, when this kid I couldn't stand wanted to be my best friend. And I kept ducking her. But once in a while I would feel sorry for her and hang out with her. But I never could tell her that I just didn't want to be her buddy.

AAARRRGGGGHHHH!!! This sucked back then, and it doesn't suck any less when its once removed. I hate being a grown up.

eating the mammoth

I am testing out a theory. I believe we are biologically programmed to have periods of feast and famine. Our early ancestors would get lean and hungry. They would kill a mammoth, and everyone would gorge themselves until the mammoth was gone. And then it would be famine again, until they could kill another mammoth.

Last week, I went on vacation, and I "ate a mammoth". Lots of wonderful restaurant meals, large breakfasts, desserts, vodka, beer, more beer. That was phase I of my experiment. On Sunday, when I came home, I weighed in. I had gained 5 pounds in my week of excess.

Now I am in Phase II -- famine. I am eating a very lean, very healthy diet of 1100-1200 calories a day. I lost a pound and a half on Monday alone. If I am back to my normal weight in 7 days, I will feel my theory holds water.

Once in a while you have to eat the mammoth.