Jackass O' Lantern...

Since it's Halloween, I will share my special Halloween encounter with the Jackass O' Lantern. Perhaps you have been lucky enough never to encounter Jackass O'Lantern- sadly, he showed up to my daughter's and her friend's Halloween party this Saturday.

A little background- In the townhouses where we live, we can rent out a club house party space. Allie's friend H. wanted to throw a Halloween party, H. and her Mom, and her cousin would take care of the planning and decor- I would rent the clubhouse and supply cupcakes. H's mom and her cousin also agreed to be the on-site adults for the party. Cool with me. I helped get them settled, and since I didn't want to hurt Allie's cool factor by hanging around the party, complete with strobe lights, music, scary decorations, etc. There were probably 15 kids there. H and her Mom are very nice- H has stayed at our place and Allie has stayed there. H's Mom and adult cousin stayed and supervised. The rule was that the club house had to be cleaned up and locked at 10. I headed up at 9:45 to help with the cleaning and child herding. There were other Moms picking up kids, and kids cleaning up. H's Mom was cleaning. I came back and got our vacuum to clean.

Oddly, there was a fat guy with a buzz cut, a woman staring blankly at the wall and two slack mouth teens sitting on the couches. I assumed they were party guests and said - "We need to pick up and start clearing out..." staring pointedly at the pile of bags, food, and clothing jumbled before them on the table. As other Moms picked up kids and debris around me, they simply ignored my presence. Weird. I helped pile up some trash and herded most of the remaining people out. But, still they sat, liked stunned cattle, having made no move to pick up their things or to even roust themselves from the sofas.

Sensing clearly, that these were not people who responded to hints or even pointed verbalizations and had very limited situational awareness (i.e. the cleaned room and the disappearance of the other party guests) It was 9:57- I stood between the two couches and looked at their pile of crap, undisturbed on the table and said "Hey, its time to get going, we need to close this up." They stared at me as if I had recited the Gettysburg address in Greek. One teen boy stood up glared at me and said "God, lady..." Seeing that at least one of them was making a nascent effort at movement, I turned around to haul out a bag of trash. As I had my back turned to pick up the trash bag, fat-guy-with-the-buzz-cut boomed out in a loud voice "She's just fucking rude! I guess we need to get going!"

I guess I must have been staring in amazement or something, because he, suddenly finding the energy to move practically sprang off the couch charged over at me and screamed in my face "Oh yeah! I said it!" and charged out the door. In addition to being large, he was also tall- I believe he was trying a little physical intimidation move on me.

I asked H's Mom- who in the hell is that person- and what a jerk and she said, "He's my ex-husband, you can see why I divorced him."

He and his entourage who skeddadled off behind him still left a lot of crap piled on the table. Livid with rage, I took the stuff out and dumped on the sidewalk. He was sitting in his car and sent one of the sullen teens out to grab it. Sullen teen passed me and mumbled "bitch"---I walked over to his car, and said "Excuse me, I live here, I'm the one who rented the clubhouse for the party, and you clearly weren't aware that we needed to be out by ten. You have behaved quite rudely, and I believe you owe me an apology..."

He was clearly stunned that his little intimidation move didn't work on me and I was calling him out in front of his dead-eyed, unresponsive wife and his listless, disrespectful teenagers. His face grew puffy and red.

He quickly recovered and said, "You are rude, I don't owe no rude person an apology, if you're waiting for one, you're not getting it."

I just stood there and said, "Wow, you need to leave now." I turned back to the clubhouse and he sat in his car...the Great Halloween Jackass O' Latern...and his jackass ways. He sat there for awhile. I went to the deck of the clubhouse - because there is some part of me that still isn't fully evolved into the peace loving, turn the other cheek kind of lady I want to be...I had to restrain the part that wanted pick up a huge tree branch off the clubhouse deck and smash in his windshield, causing him to jump out and then the joy would be mine to use the big tree limb then to embed some tree bark into his gums with one big cracking smack across his face.

I sat on the clubhouse deck and did some deep breathing and tried to mentally journey to a happy place where my violent urge to beat a dude senseless with a tree branch would disappate.

I opened my eyes- thankfully, the Halloween Jackass O' Lantern was leaving, winding his way down the road in his gold Crown Victoria...

So, there you have it kids, watch out for the Great Halloween Jackass O' Lantern- he is a big fat dude with a buzz cut- he drives a Crown Victoria- his minions are a couple of slacker teens and a dead eyed woman who looks to have taken many tranquilizers. Guard yourselves and your Halloween parties...there is no telling where he might show up and act like the jackass of all time.

Science Bowl

The scene: Standing in line for "Costco dogs" at Costco with Allie

The topic: Allie's first "Science Bowl" quiz competition team meeting

Me: "Were there any cute boys there?"

Allie: rolling eyes, "MOM....NO! no cute boys"

Me: "None?"

Allie: "None of the cute boys want to be known as science geeks, plus they are busy texting all day"

Me: "Hmmm...well are the science boys nice? They must be smart..."

Allie: "They are smart, but too full of themselves because they are so, so smart...boys can brag about themselves so much."

Me: "Um, that might not change..."

Allie: "Still, better than the cute boys who text on the cells all day- there's a future in science, there's no future in texting."

Note: the guy behind us in line found this conversation hilarious.

A bit more cheery...

Okay, that last post was depressing. A friend read it and called me, and wanted to pull me "back from the edge."

I will still vote. Its the least I can do. Plus, it was heartening to watch "Meet the Press" and see the future of the Democratic party in the person of the sensible and hopeful Barak Obama.

Plus, Tim's all-white-man panel, were predicting victory for the Dems, the guy from the Wall Street Journal with helmet hair, Cook political report guy with even worse helmet hair and balding David Broder. Hell, even Bob Novak (aka "douche bag of liberty" so named by Jon Stewart) was also predicting a victory for the Democrats.

Don't you think Bob Novak and Dick Cheney both bear a disturbing resemblence to the evil Mr. Potter in Frank Capra's classic "It's a Wonderful Life" ?

The Country I thought I knew...

I'm having a hard time watching the news. My new job has given me a good excuse not to pay attention. No time, no mind space.

But what has really happened to me is I don't know my country anymore. I don't understand it...which is weird. Very weird, because I felt like its a place I've always known and loved.

Those of you who read this and who know me probably know I'm a history geek. A true blue history book person. It all started when I was 9 years old. I picked up my Mom's junior biography of Eleanor Roosevelt. I couldn't put it down. It was a book my mom had when she was a girl and was just sitting on the shelf and I read it and just couldn't put it down. Between that and our nation's bicentennial when I was 8, and I actually enjoyed the Walter Cronkite "Bicentennial Moments" where Walter would intone in his wonderful voice some snippet about the founding of our country. I was hooked- at age 9.

I was a history major in college and I did a year of grad. school thinking I wanted to be an American History professor. My era of study was the progressive era, the founding of modern America- just an incredible time of change and activism, women's sufferage, a very dynamic time.

While it was all very mentally stimulating, and for me fun. There was another piece to it. I fell in love. I fell in love with my country, its constitution, its spirit. I felt for as geeky and retro as it was (who feels like this after Watergate, Vietnam?) proud to be part of the American experience- even with its many shameful points, there was something still to be proud to be a part of.

If you know me, I tend to be pretty passionate about things, when I'm in, I'm in it- heart too. This country I studied and felt I knew so well felt like it belonged to me. Even since the 2000 election, and diminished some after 2004 I hung on, desperately trying to save this love affair.

But the other day, when I saw the president sign that bill and when I see Iraq, I knew it was over. The country I loved I don't know anymore, I don't understand it, it doesn't belong to me.

Someone asked me how I think the mid-terms are going. I can't answer. I don't know this country anymore.

Random data

I don't have a coherent blog post in mind, so I thought I'd post some "random data"

- Today I'm leaving on a business trip with my co-workers for three days. Should be interesting. Though I hate to be away from Allie that long.

-We are looking at a house that we might be able to afford- in the city- with three bedrooms and two baths, 1700 square feet. In half cute, up and coming neighborhood in SE Portland.

-My cat is watching me type. He has decided my stomach is the best place to sleep. I find myself envying his lifestyle. Lavish affection, plenty of sleep, the ability to purr and a gorgeous stripe fur outfit to wear everyday- so lovely and soft there is no need to accessorize.

-Allie is hilarious- her latest is to copy her mother in speculating/making up stories about people. Namely her math teacher- who is incredibly soft-spoken. He was absent last week. Allie says, "What if he has a secret life where he is total party guy and insane, and he couldn't come to school because he was too tired from partying? What if he goes to tons of parties so much so that people get sick of seeing him at parties? He probably says something dorky, like 'I'm like the variable x, I show up a lot.' Oh, well..." I don't know why but when she said this, I found it incredibly hilarious. Especially since she can do a spot-on imitation of her math teacher's voice.

The REAL deal

Yes, I'm adopted. 99.8% I never think about it, and I don't feel bad or weird about it. But there is that .02% of the time when I do. Like this morning, I usually scroll the headlines to get an idea of the news, like how Bush might be royally screwing us in a new and exciting way.

I skimmed past one Washington Post headline that read "Mother wants to 'unadopt' child" - She was a foster mother who didn't know the extent of her "son's" mental issues, and now wants to 'unadopt' him. Upon reading the story, there are a lot of bad circumstances all the way around. Perhaps she should have figured this out before she adopted him? I'm sure his already bad life will now get worse. This is just sad.

Anyway, its the occasional story like this that makes me ponder the whole adoption thing. My parents adopted me as a three day old infant, and I'm of the same ethnic background as my parents- pasty white folks. To look at me next to my parents you would never guess that I share no genetic material with them, except they are tall and I am not. Some people have told me that I have my father's eyes. Yes, we both have blue eyes, like a gazillion other people. Maybe because I didn't look different, it was easier than other adopted kids. Plus, to be honest I never felt adopted. It's odd really, every once in awhile it crosses my mind and internally I go "whoa, yea, that's weird."

My parents handled it correctly- they told me when I was about 4. They were honest about it, but never made a big deal about it. In their minds and in my mind, I was their daughter. I've met other adoptees whose parents kept it a secret and then it would spill out in some awful, emotionally traumatizing way. My Grandma was convinced that my adoption was God's will and divine intervention- and HE, the big guy, personally planned for me to be her granddaughter, so I could never feel bad or weird about it, after all, I wouldn't want to question God's divine plan. Plus, I was treated like everyone else. Sometimes it felt like a cool secret.

The only time I feel uncomfortable about it is the fact that I find so many people really incredibly rude and insensitive about it. The question I hate the most is: "Don't you want to meet your REAL parents?" To which I reply, "I know my REAL parents. They raised me, they are great people, I've known them all of my life."

I find this question extremely insulting to my parents. They raised me, loved me, put my goopey finger paintings on the refridgerator, changed my diapers, hugged me when I cried, came to my concerts, basketball games, and graduation. Were they perfect? No, but I don't believe there are any perfect parents. They are REAL parents.

Also, the media. When President Reagan died they listed his three biological kids, and then they said "and his adopted son, Michael Reagan"- I think that's rude. When you adopt kids, they are your kids- they aren't seperated in any category. I feel fairly certain my Dad wouldn't want me listed as his "adopted" daughter (He has two biological daughters- my sisters, yes, they are my REAL sisters)

Or, occasionally, on sitcoms the punchline would be "you're really adopted" to some character who seems bumbling or somehow not fitting in. And, that's the laugh line. I guess I fail to see the humor in that.

My husband says I'm reading a little too much into questions like "meeting your REAL parents" or sitcom lines, or adoptees being singled out of their families. He says people don't mean to offend. I'm sure they don't, but I'm sure if they thought about it a little more or put themselves into an adopted person's shoes, they probably would be a little more sensitive about it. I've met some people who have asked "Do you want to meet your biological parents?" which is a perfectly fine, normal question to me.

Here's the answer: Yes, I've been curious about them, but I haven't put any effort into tracking them down. My curiousity actually increased after I had my daughter, realizing what a big deal pregnancy is-- I'm curious to know what they look like, and hey, to be perfectly honest, what other crappy health situation I can expect (I already have two genetic conditions that affect my health, but only mildly) and do they have my nose and now Allie's nose? Also, just to make sure they are okay and fine with their decision. I hope they aren't upset, sad or fearful that they didn't do the right thing. I haven't contacted them, because I don't feel the need to- most of the time I'm only vaguely aware I am adopted, plus my family is big and complicated enough- I don't need more people. Plus, I don't want to intrude on their life, and I don't want them to intrude on mine.

My daughter is the only person I know that I share genetic material with- fortunately, so no one will ask me "Don't you want to meet your REAL daughter?"

The enduring, terrifying allure of Hasselhof

Admit it- you can't look away. Like a car crash, a surreal dream, or a scary movie...you are alternately horrified and pulled in like a tractor beam. You know the visual will be seared into your memory like a cattle brand.

You may be driving to the store, waiting on line at the Starbucks for your latte, and Bam! The horrifying Hof image glides across your brain, and there you are momentarily stricken. A shudder passes through your body as you will the image away. Maybe its not this particular image, although this is indeed one of the most frightenting. It could be the slow-mo run down the beach in the "Baywatch" opening seqence, or Hof inserting himself into one of history's important moments- singing at the destruction of the Berlin wall in a light-up flashy skinny tie, and thousands of adoring Germans cheer him on.

I saw this picture on another blog awhile ago, and yes, it became seared in my psyche, and it did indeed pop into my head, causing me to literally shake it off. (Did others notice? I don't know, perhaps they thought I had an unfortunate tic, or turret's syndrome. But no, I was suffering from post traumatic stress disorder.)

Why did I seek out and save this particular image? Well, I got a story and Hof images from my friend G., who I believe also finds Hof alternately horrifying yet fascinating in an unintentionally hilarious way. I had to send her that picture. I found it easily, I believe it was part of a Hasselhof calendar. Ah, yes, a year with Hof.

I also had a flashback, er, reminder when my daughter was watching "America's Got Talent" an American Idol rip off where Hof is one of the judges. Its truly a piece of crap. Really bad. As my husband would say, 'steaming pile of poo'- or as Allie would say "Lame-i-stan" And, as anything is associated with Hof, has that freaky Hof mojo- its somewhat bizarre, surreal, a side show quality. Perhaps that's Hof's allure- the pure cheesetasticity of the man. He takes something that is normally of interest- hey girls in bathing suits!- and takes it to a new overly done, cheezy level. Hey, everyone loves puppies! Let me lay them all over my nude body, and adopt a sexy pose and come hither look. The result is....horrifying.