As an organization, you are sucking the suck right now. You have called my house every night this week. Being perfectly able to read the words “political call” on my caller ID, I didn’t answer until tonight. Thus the calls got later and later until tonight’s came at 8:30 p.m. on a Friday night. So I picked it up just to stop the hounding. I didn’t actually say “Hello?” though. I waited to see if you would say anything. Your computer system is pretty good; it didn’t put a person through to me until I actually said something, to which your witty response was “Uh huh!”

Me: “Who’s calling, please?”

Female drone: “May I please speak to Anwyn?”

Me: “Speaking.”

Female drone: “Mrs. Anwyn, I’m calling on behalf of the Republican Party. Generally speaking, do you consider yourself a Republican or a Democrat?”

Me: “I’m a Republican.”

Her: “Mrs. Anwyn, I’m very glad to hear that. This is a critical time right now for the blah blah blah Obama blah blah health care–”

Me: “I’m sorry–” This would have been followed by “but are you with the national Republican organization or the local one?” had you not HUNG UP the second the words “I’m sorry” were out of my mouth.

That’s right. YOU called ME and then HUNG UP when I wouldn’t go along with your script. You are not interested in me beyond my money. That’s just reality, but at least learn how to disguise it.

Republican Party, quit relying on idiots to represent you. Stop sucking the suck.

1) Allow her to attend functions at a church you yourself do not seem particularly involved in.

2) Allow her to make her own commitments to that church, such as, for example, participation in an especially codependent music group.

3) Plan a surprise slumber party for her birthday on a Saturday night, before a big performance at church the next morning; suddenly realize, on the night of the party, that your daughter’s commitment to the previously mentioned music group will, GASP, ensure that there are three or four teenagers not of your own family lying around your house on Sunday morning without your daughter to keep charge of them, and phone the director of said music group to imply that her expectation that your daughter appear at both dress rehearsal (at a moderately early hour on Sunday morning) AND the performance (an hour after the rehearsal due to competition for rehearsal time in the sanctuary) is a bit extreme and inform her that she “may or may not see” your daughter at rehearsal, though she will be at the performance, because you don’t want to let the music group down “one hundred percent.” Only fifty percent; that’s acceptable, since of course this is YOUR convenience we’re talking about, and never mind giving your sixteen-year-old daughter the option of keeping or breaking her own commitments by the lights of HER priorities and good judgment.

And some people wonder why the director has bad dreams.

I have a voice in this too, you know. You are not Darth Vader–you can’t say “I’m altering the deal” with total impunity. You know what I’m talking about. Don’t pretend innocence. I can’t stand it in a guy and I won’t tolerate it in my state, either. We had a deal. Don’t act like your total control over the weather gives you the right to alter the provisions at any time.

Listen up: The deal was that you will provide me with warm, sometimes hot, dry summers that, while increasingly bad for my skin, are terrific for my hair. Not muggy, wet summers, either warm or cool. Consistent humidity, great for my skin and lousy for my hair, I could have in any of my more homelike states back east. You want to make it that much easier for me to depart for one of them? Keep this up.

Oh, you want to make nice now? Don’t want me taking my diversity-enhancing Republican self out of your left-wing-infested evergreen woods? You can start by NOT raining when my friend’s son is getting married outdoors tonight. From there, we’ll see.

I have a sick child and plenty of other family/friend life issues occurring, so blogging is at a low. But I do want to know one thing, spoiler-free, please: With approximately five characters I care about still left identified “human” or at least non-Cylon (Adama, Starbuck, Apollo, Gaeta, and Roslin), why in the world should I bother watching last season and this current, final season of Battlestar Galactica? Come on, my TV peeps, help me out. I suspect disappointment is in my future and would rather not court it by watching.

But this one might have some … resonance.

I dreamed that Obama had been elected merely president of my undergraduate university rather than president of the United States. As an “inaugural” stunt, he was behind a counter dealing with a line of students who needed to make financial arrangements for room and board. There were two options: Pay your room and board bills as they became due, or take a “mortgage” on your dorm room–i.e. you could pay after graduation in installments, but with a large interest payment tacked on. My sensible parents, with me in line, told me not to mortgage for the higher interest but said we’d manage to make the payments at their due date.

I also dreamed that when in the room itself, a voice kept telling me to shut the blinds or somebody would shoot me through the open windows, but that every time I turned around, whichever blind I had just shut was open again.

Wonder what that means?

Me, in front seat, speaking of something completely unconnected: “…and that’s how decent people should behave!”

A little, thoughtful voice from the back seat: “Are you a decent girl?”

***

Happy New Year, everybody.

What a week. Stories for another time. Snowbound in Portland, Oregon–a concept so far removed from reality that it never occurred to me it could happen. People stranded in the airport for four days or possibly more. A trip to church so the Bean could do his reading (which he actually recited from memory and for which he received a spontaneous round of applause in the middle of church) worse than any driving I ever did in Indiana. Friends who own a truck over for Christmas Eve dinner. And today–4:30 and I’m in my pajamas, eating leftovers and playing with the Bean’s toys. Aaahhh.

Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah to you and all of yours. Much love to my friends and family. And safety and warmth to everybody. The Bean’s passage, from the Contemporary English translation of the Bible, Isaiah 9:2-3, 6-7:

2 Those who walked in the dark
have seen a bright light.
And it shines upon everyone
who lives in the land
of darkest shadows.
3 Our LORD, you have made
your nation stronger. [b] Because of you, its people
are glad and celebrate
like workers at harvest time …

6 A child has been born for us.
We have been given a son
who will be our ruler.
His names will be
Wonderful Advisor
and Mighty God,
Eternal Father
and Prince of Peace.
7 His power will never end;
peace will last forever.
He will rule David’s kingdom
and make it grow strong.
He will always rule
with honesty and justice.
The LORD All-Powerful
will make certain
that all of this is done.

I love the snow in Portland; it’s like winter at home in the midwest, but the downside is pretty big: Oregonians absolutely cannot drive in the stuff even two days after it’s fallen.

Son: I like that stained-glass window.

Me: Yeah, me too.

Son: What’s it of?

Me: Well, there’s a cross in the middle there.

Son: I think it’s God’s eye.

What, did it die? Well, yeah, at least in my family. When I was a kid we drove from Washington, the state, to North Carolina and Kentucky every summer to see my grandparents and aunts, uncles, and cousins. Five days in the car or else in our full-size Dodge cargo van. We also sometimes drove to Wyoming to see yet more aunts and uncles. That van was the It Vehicle for us kids. There was one bench seat in the back with no seatbelts, and that was it. We could and did spread out blankets, lie down at full length in the floor, play cards, play games, read, sleep as long as we liked, awaken to see one of our parents getting a speeding ticket, usually somewhere in the Plains.

It’s not just the affordability of air travel that has killed this tradition before my son ever participated in it; it’s also the carseat laws and even the seatbelt laws. I know this doesn’t stop other families with children The Bean’s age (five), but I simply haven’t been able bring myself to coop him up in his rigid plastic carseat for several days on end. While I still greatly enjoy the concept of the long road trip, it’s just too depressing to think about him trapped in that seat, unable even to lie down in the back seat should he want to sleep (and as he gets bigger, the carseat is a less and less comfortable place to sleep). So the long trip remains a pipe dream. We’ve done a few two-day stints (about six hours per day) and one experimental trip of sixteen hours in one day, with multiple 30-minute breaks. He broke down only once, at about six in the evening, but at midnight, 10 minutes from our destination, he thoughtfully remarked, “I like airplanes the best.” I can’t say I blame him. If you’re a) not driving and b) can hardly move, a road trip is not the fun I remember from my own childhood.

He just graduated to a backless booster that uses the “adult seatbelt,” a fact of which he’s very proud. We’ll see if this plus the advent of the portable DVD player encourages me to get back out on the road.

The Bean: “I was born on a Tuesday. That means I’m full of grace.”

M: “Yep, very good, that’s correct.”

The Bean: “What day were you born?”

Me: “Friday.”

The Bean: “What are you full of?”

The Bean’s paternal grandmother has passed on, following her husband by about five months. I’ll be absent(er).

Just very busy.

No, seriously, where are you, because I’m about to drop you from my bookmarks.

A birthday for the Bean, a big family visit, there’s a lot going on. I’ll be back.

C’mon, I’m just emulating Xrlq by going for a one-to-one ratio of weeks to posts.

Actually, Xrlq’s been posting several times per day.

Well, see, then? He’s picking up my slack. And hey, I have made one crucial blog decision–I’m no longer going to code links that automatically open a new browser window. I figure you people are smart enough to right-click and pick “open in new window (or tab)” all by yourselves.

Well, thanks for that, the extra windows were driving me nuts.

You’re welcome.