I'm Drowning!

Not literally of course - if i was, there would be no way i could get word to you guys via the interweb from underwater.

What i mean is i'm drowning in a sea of washing and its kind of annoying me ( although i can still make time to blog about it... ). Its annoying me because its there, and its annoying me because its making my house look untidy and i want to fold it and put it away.... but its like i cant. I keep looking at it and its frusturating me because i sooooooooo wanna be this SuperHousewife and i'm so motivated to do it - until it actually comes time to fold the damn clothes and then i'm all like " Flynn needs me " or " I need a nap " or " Hey, those cookies are calling my name ". I mean, its so bad - i'm all caught up with washing the clothes so its not like i have a mountain of dirty stuff lying around, its just that the overflowing baskets ( two and bit... ) of clean stuff is making a total brothel of my house. Seriously, when i get off this computer ( Lori, i have a problem.... ) i'm diving straight into the washing.

In other news, this time of the TMI variety - my son is still, ahem, " backed up ". Its been 16 days since he went naturally, without any " prompting " by a doctor, and the worry is starting to do my head in. Sometime he's in real pain and screams for 30 to 40 minutes at a time, and thats kind of stressful. We've tried: plain water, prune juice, pureed fruit, a teaspoon of paraffin oil, massage, warm baths and now we're on a steady diet of carrot/apple juice along with booby milks. And ...nothing. Not even a skiddy. Anyone got any other suggestions?

And finally - its voting time! Head over to Blog This! and vote for me in this weeks challenge!

More of Maine's Abandoned Neighborhoods

I. Saunders cellar hole

Soft, white-and-yellow flowers poked up through last fall’s leaves and contrasted with hard, gray granite. Whoever lived there had been very good with stone, and with flowers. The people who positioned each were long dead. Their house had fallen in and rotted away, but I knew I would have liked them if only for where and how they chose to live. The cellar hole still perched beside the steep dirt road. Holes don’t usually perch but this one did. Through deep woods, I pulled my ATV into what would have been their dooryard on the uphill side. From there, I could oversee what would have been the view from the house when it stood. Hardwoods across the road were bare of leaves and a mountainous horizon was visible to the west. The view would have been unobstructed when the farm operated back in the nineteenth century and sunsets must have been stunning. That was my second indication of how much intelligence and planning went into laying out that farmstead. Getting off my machine, I was careful not to step on more beds of flowers the like of which I’d never seen before. Next, I noticed a dug well covered with an old piece of galvanized steel roofing. Then I walked down to the cellar hole for a closer look. It was impressive. Massive chimney bases told me the house had probably been a cape with large fireplaces on the gable ends. From one uphill corner a galvanized, steel pipe stuck out - a gravity feed from the uphill well still trickled after all these years.

When I got home I pulled out my maps. One old Oxford County map told me that someone named “I. Saunders” lived there in 1858. Another showed him still there in 1880.

It was spring vacation and I’d finally found time to renew one of my favorite pastimes - exploring abandoned neighborhoods. I had focused on Albany Township, Maine. It’s not a municipality anymore, but it was once. Judging from the 1858 map, it had almost as many people as Lovell did, but seems to have lost many more in the post-Civil War outmigration to the west - so many that it ceased being a town and gave over control to the State of Maine. I’d looked it over from my pickup truck over the past ten years when I felt like driving around on Friday-night dates with my wife, and noticed some building going on. Some of the old neighborhoods are being repopulated. I saw homes going up next to or behind two-hundred-year-old cellar holes. People today obviously agree with 19th century pioneers about the best places to site a house.
1858 Map

Nobody built near the Saunders cellar hole though - too steep for them I’d guess. There are ledges on the hillside above and it looks like Mr. I. Saunders pulled some large flat stone down for his house foundation. He used two massive 5X5-foot slabs to form one corner and a few others to form parts of the cellar walls. Don’t know exactly how long they’ve been in place, but they haven’t moved after at least a century-and-a-half of freezing and thawing. As I said, he was good with stone. He might have been assisted by relatives as the 1858 map shows other Saunders farmsteads above and below his. Brothers perhaps? The Saunders farm above had disappeared on the 1880 map. Did that brother seek his fortune in America’s west as so many others from western Maine did?1880 Map

Looking at a 1915 USGS map to be found online on a University of New Hampshire web site, I could see there was still a house there where I. Saunders had built it and quite a few acres were still clear on both sides of the steep dirt road.1915 USGS map

On the 1943 map, some of the land was still clear but the house was gone. The 1963 map shows the forest having overtaken everything.1941 USGS map

As of last week, a few trees left from his apple orchard stood here and there between stone walls, and those delicate, white-and-yellow flowers were still blooming.

Even Artichokes Have Hearts....

Time for this weeks Blog This! challenge. See the bold for details:
What film has inspired you, changed you or the way you think, maybe put you on a new path?

So - for those of you who dont know, i like to consider myself a film buff. I dont have as much time these days as i would like, just to be able to sit and take in a new film. I've kind of slipped a little - in the year 2005 i watched over 200 films that i'd never seen before, now that number might be closer to 20 a year. Poo to that. The point i'm trying to make though is that this challenge was going to be hard for me. I've seen so many films, and had so many touch me in some way, that it was going to be difficult to pick just one. I had a few come to mind : " Hotel Rwanda ", " American History X ", " El Diarios De Motocicleta ", " Benny and Joon ". The one i settled on, however was.... " le Fabuluex Destin D'Amelie Poulain ". Or, just simply ( in English ) - " Amelie ".

I just simply adore this film. I love everything about it - the colour, the music, the whimsy, the beautiful Audrey Tatou. But their are two reasons i chose this film: because it made me believe that no matter how odd or weird or different you think you are, there is someone out there who is right for you and who will love you for the crazy that you are.... and it made me want to say " yes " more often.

See, Amelie is this gorgeous little Parisian women, who has a quirky father, works in a cute little cafe with an strange assortment of oddball characters and likes to pretend things in her head. She sends a garden gnome on a round the world trip, likes creme brulee and, like most women, she dreams about love. I related to her even though we had only half those things in common ( pretending, dreaming and cream brulee ). I liked that she was cute and quirky and kind of lived inside her own head a bit. I liked that she had a wicked sense of humour. And i liked that, when she had the opportunity, she took the bull by the horns and went after that perfect love she had been dreaming about. And she got it and all was right with the world. Amelie found Nino, and all because she was brave enough to say " yes " to life.

And what happened when I was brave enough to say " yes " to the opportunities that came my way, and stopped being so afraid of where " yes " may take me? I met a gorgeous man who is now my fiance and i have a beautiful baby boy. And all is right with the world.....

I Ain't Got No Beiber Fever!

Oh.My.God.... argh! Justin Beiber is in Sydney! I think i'm going to pass out i love him so much!!!!

Ok, no, not really. I know who is but i'm so NOT in love with him. That song " Baby " drives me absolutely mental and the heartfelt yet super-cheesy lyrics just make me want to gag. The dude is 16, looks 12, and if he grew his hair much longer i could mistake him for a girl.  ( As a side note, have you ever noticed how the most popular members of boy bands are always the girliest looking ? See Nick Carter of the Backstreet Boys and Mark What-his-face of Take That as evidence ). So why am i even talking about the Bieb?

Well, he's doing a press tour through Australia and was due to appear on a morning tv show today. After much spruiking - like 2 weeks of it - that he would be performing live on the show, and after a petition to have him perform live out on the street instead of in the studio.... the gig was cancelled. By police. Because of safety concerns. Apparently thousands of teenage girls had camped overnight in the middle of Sydney so they would be front row for his performance and, even hours before he arrived, some of them had passed out or had been crushed into barricades, and had to be taken away in ambulances. Some of the others wouldnt do as police instructed in regards to moving back from the stage/spreading out a little/quitening down so.... bam! Concert cancelled! Unlucky hysterical teenage girls!

What amuses me - aside from the fact that they braved the cold overnight, camping on concrete, and STILL missed out - is that i totally dont see the appeal of Justin Bieber. He's illicited a reaction like the Beatles and Elvis Presley did, but he is nowhere near - NOT EVEN CLOSE - to being as talented as either of those artists. He doesnt write his own songs, he doesnt play his own instruments and knows only the most basic of dance moves. Sure, he has that whole " nice boy " thing going for him - he's the boy you could take home to meet your mum ( you know, as opposed to, like, Eminem ) - but aside from that, i cannot fathom what made all those girls so completely ga ga.

I guess they just got themselves a bad case of so-called Beiber Fever - and if its contagious as it appeared on tv and i'm unlucky enough to catch it, promise me, dear readers, that one of you will find a way to kill me before it infects everyone i love?

Firing up the Pendolino, Eating out, and the Return of Colleagues.

Giles Coren (food critic), this week spent the best part of £400 on what he described as a mediocre meal at one of Gordon Ramsay’s restaurants in London. I guess the meal may have cost £400 but it is unlikely to have been his money.His review of his experience was scathing and made for riveting reading. I could identify with the poor overall experience of the senses he wrote so eloquently about. Indeed, in the last ten days I have yet again endured some rather strange meals.

Two such offerings came from the University. Regular readers of this blog will know that for a variety of reasons, I no longer eat the food provided by our catering department for lunch time or evening meetings. However, even I was surprised at the lunchtime selection available at a meeting last Friday. It seemed to comprise of various dead animals (cooked) encompassed in a strangely pink wrap, which had the look and texture (I am reliably informed) of a face towel that has seen better days. Things are set to change as we take our Health and Well Being University Theme forward. Hopefully, we will start to have a more healthier range of food available to students and staff.

However, I did enjoy a very good meal with my Head of School colleagues this week. The meal was had at Beluga in Manchester, cost £20 each including as much wine as you could drink! Good selection for vegetarians, but the night we went, the Pizza oven was not working. They also had a wonderful pavement seating area which was ideal for people watching and pre meal conversation.

The other thing food wise, that threw me this week was that some how I had failed to miss that April was Enchilada Month. On Tuesday, I had fired up the Virgin Pendolino, and headed off to London for a series of meetings, one of which, was held over lunch. It was in a famous Mexican restaurant, which whilst normally having a great choice and range of food, on this occasion didn’t. We were expected to pick our food from the totally enchilada based menu. Up to this point in my life, I hadn’t realised that enchiladas had such versatility. It was an interesting lunch, although I didn’t get to eat much.

Equally interesting on that day was that having parked the Pendolino at platform 13, I walked out into the sunshine and bustle of Euston Square to be greeted by a hugely enthusiastic lady, who as is her way, was sporting Sophie Lauren type sunglasses. As usual we hugged each other, air kissed, and promised to catch up sometime soon. This lady was once, a very good staff nurse on a mental health unit I had responsibility for. Today she is an excellent Nurse Consultant for a much bigger range of services that now includes that Unit. We have enjoyed such fleeting glimpses and meetings all over the world.

I was once standing on the Staten Island Ferry waiting to go across when a women approached me, said hello, air kissed and promised to catch up soon. It was her. Four years later, we met in similar circumstances at a Leonard Cohen concert in Birmingham. We have met to do business many times in-between of course. I still find it slightly strange to have had such brief encounters all over the world. Perhaps it is a reflection of the international nature of the community of practitioners that is nursing.

And talking about the world over, the very good news this week is that some of our colleagues at long last able to begin to make their way back to the UK. The last week or so have been a trial for many. It says something that so many colleagues helped each other out in such generous ways. This also included colleagues from other Universities who were stranded in the same place. Back home, colleagues have also unconditionally and very willingly stepped into the breach and taken on extra teaching, attended meetings and been there for the students. It appears that slowly things are getting back to normal. I even had an email form a colleague in Finland that advertised a forthcoming conference by declaring that volcanoes only erupt once in a while, a that Finland is a great place to get stuck in.

Finally, the weekend Times published what surely must be the most surprising supplement they have done for a while. It was entitled the Male Vanity Supplement and was full of tips on how to reclaim that six pack, apply your make up, and yes how to eat well. So maybe a male vanity supplement is not such an oxymoronic idea after all.

Where Is The Young Mummy Love ?

So - i want to talk about the whole mummy sisterhood thing again ( apologies to those readers of mine who arent actually mothers - you're probably sick of hearing about it by now ). Seems like the whole sisterhood doesnt exactly extend past the " Baby Boomer " generation, or at least it hasnt in my experience. Let me explain:

My mothers group gets together on a Thursday morning, around 10am. We go to a cafe ( one that had enough to room to accomodate at least 10 women and, thusly, 10 prams ) and have a bit of a coffee and much conversation. Some of it is trivial - " Did you see such-an-such a movie ? " - but, of course, much of it revolves around our babies and our mothering experiences. Its nice to be able to share with other new mums, women that havent been through it before and have just as little clue as i do. We arent overly raucous however when your in a group of 10 or more sometimes you do have to speak up a little so that you can be heard across, or down, the table. This hasnt been a problem before - at 10am on a Thursday morning most cafes around here are pretty empty ( which is why our prams fit! ) or very quiet at the least. Not yesterday, however - yesterday we got asked to stop talking.

We had two babies having their " half birthday " ( ie. they were 6 months old ) so we had a little cake for them. Their mothers, naturally, were trying to figure out which of the bubs was actually older so started along the lines of " Oh, i went into labour the day before but he didnt arrive until.... ". Now, mind you, we didnt go into intimate, gory details - we may at some point, but thus far the sharing of labour stories hasnt much gone past what drugs we used and how long it all went. So, anyhoo, yesterday we're trying to figure out who was born first..... and one of the mums said " Man, my water broke then wooosh...and it was all on! ". Thats almost word for word mind you - no more, no less. Then, from a table behind us we hear - " Umm, ladies, thats enough ! ". We all look over and this old lady, sitting with another old lady and old man, goes " Really - i've been there and done that and now i'm trying to enjoy my morning tea ". What the?!?

Seriously - nothing more shocking then " my water broke... " and this old bird was asking us, politely, to shut up. How freaking rude! We have every right to gather and discuss that type of thing, and we have every right to en joy that type of discussion with OUR morning tea. Lord, nobody mentioned vaginas, or stitches, or dialation or anything vaguely " rude".... just water breaking and what time contractions started. I'd hate to see what her reaction would have been had one of us had to pop a boob out to feed our child - she might have had a bloody fit! Just because she wouldnt have had the same kind of group for support and advice in her day, or had the chance to discuss birth stories or bodily changes with anyone ( not even her mother and/or sister ) doesnt mean we shouldnt be able to. She should be proud, and happy, that women of the generation she would have raised worked hard to allow us the f reedom to break taboos. But no - she just wanted us to stop our conversation so she could enjoy a cup of tea.

So boo hoo to you, you old bag! Perhaps next time when you see a gathering of young women with babies and prams you'll be smart enough to figure out its a mothers group - and you can bugger off somewhere else for your precious morning tea!

Obama's Nuclear Policy

“President Obama has announced a new policy on America’s use of nuclear weapons,” I told the class. “He won’t be the first to use them in a conflict with another nation, he said. And, he won’t retaliate with nuclear weapons if we’re attacked by a country which is using other WMD, or ‘Weapons of Mass Destruction,’ such as chemical or biological weapons against us.”

I waited for that to sink in.

After a pause, a boy raised his hand and asked, “What would be the point of that?”

“Yeah,” said another boy. “Why have them if we’re not going to use them?”

“President Obama says America won’t retaliate with nuclear weapons against a country that has signed the Nuclear Non-proliferation Treaty - countries that have pledged not to make nuclear weapons. I think he’s trying to encourage more countries to sign it and that’s a big reason for his new policy,” I suggested.

“Who agrees with Obama’s new policy?” I asked.

A couple of girls didn’t stick their hands up, but turned their palms around to me while their elbows stayed on the desk. They smiled meekly.

“Who disagrees?”

Most of the students raised their hands. We had been studying WMD and the arms race following World War II. Students had seen “Hiroshima,” a made-for-TV docudrama focusing on President Truman’s decision to drop the bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and Japanese Emperor Hirohito’s decision to surrender. They learned what a nuclear weapon can do - how it kills with a blast, with heat, and with radiation. They learned about kilotons and megatons. They learned what countries have nuclear weapons and when each obtained them between 1945 and today. They knew that North Korea has tested one and that Iran is trying to develop one. They knew that Iran is threatening to “wipe Israel off the map.”

A couple of days later I said to the class: “Sarah Palin criticized President Obama’s new nuclear policy saying, ‘It's kinda like getting out there on a playground, a bunch of kids, getting ready to fight, and one of the kids saying, “Go ahead, punch me in the face and I'm not going to retaliate. Go ahead and do what you want to with me,”’”

“Good for her,” said a boy. “Is she going to run for president?”

“Maybe,” I said. “I’m sure she’s thinking about it. Who agrees with Sarah Palin on this?” I asked.

A scattering of hands.

“Who disagrees?”

Another scattering. Most did not to have an opinion one way or the other.

The next day, I told the class that President Obama responded to Sarah Palin’s criticism. “He said, ‘Last I checked, Sarah Palin's not much of an expert on nuclear issues.’” I paused and let them chew on that.

“And he is?” suggested a girl skeptically.

“Well, he does have experts advising him,” I said, “and he would have access to much more information than you or me or Sarah Palin would. He also said, ‘[I]f the Secretary of Defense and the Chairman of the Joints Chiefs of Staff are comfortable with it, I'm probably going to take my advice from them and not from Sarah Palin.’”

“But he hasn’t been president very long and he wasn’t an expert before that,” she said.

“Okay,” I answered.

The next day, I told them, “Sarah Palin has another response to President Obama. She mocked his criticism saying, ‘all the vast nuclear experience that he acquired as a community organizer . . .’ The president was a community organizer in Chicago for fifteen years or so before becoming a state senator and a US senator. Today, he’s in Prague, Czech Republic signing a treaty declaring that the United States would further reduce the number of nuclear weapons we have. He made a speech there last year saying he wants a world without nuclear weapons.”

“Can we do that?” asked a boy. “Can we get rid of our nuclear weapons? What would we do with them”

“We can disassemble them down to the enriched uranium or plutonium that is turned into energy according to the equation E=mc2, but we cannot unmake that material. We can only store it somewhere and guard it. Also, directions for constructing a nuclear weapon can be downloaded from the internet, so a world without nuclear weapons doesn’t seem like a real possibility.”

“How many weapons would it take to destroy the whole world?” asked another boy.

“Nobody knows for sure,” I said, “and I hope we never find out. Some speculate that it would be around 3000 or so.”

“And how many are we going to get down to?”

“Around 1600 in our arsenal, I think, assuming the Senate ratifies this treaty.”

“Hmm,” he said.

An Un-Mushy Update

This one is a little TMI, unless your a mumma, in which case its just a normal thing for you.

As i previously posted, my little Flynn started on " solids " last week. However, we've backed off the mush for a few days because, ahem, the little dude is " backed up". If you know what i mean. And if you dont - it means he hasnt pooped in over 6 days now. I knew that introducing solids messes with their little digestive systems for a while, and i was expected a little break in poop proceedings - but 6 days ? Holy schmoly! I've taken him to the doctor and he's been on little baby laxative drops and prune juice for 3 days but still nothing. I feel bad because i'm the one who's fed him the stuff thats blocked him up - my only consolation is he doesnt really seem to be in any pain, except after a feed. After a feed when his tummy is full he goes all red in the face and has a big. old, screaming cry. Mama doesnt like listening to that. It makes me feel bad. He had his 4 month vaccination needles today and i asked the nurse about his " problem " and she said its completely normal, just keep up the drops and the juice, and he has to pooh eventually.

We all do, right?

( Oh, and on an unrelated note, if you havent voted for me yet, head to Blog This! and vote for me in this week challenge.... voting ends tonight! )

From One Befuddled Brain To Another

Blog This! challenge time again:
This week we'd like all of blog this members to seek out another. One you've never visited, one you don't follow. One you admire, find interest in. Write about it on your blog and 'review' it, gush about it, or re-post one of their articles with your commentary. Be nice! Leave a comment and a link for them to know you've done so.

So i read this weeks challenge with interest - go out and find myself some new blogs to read huh ? Search the members list and discover great new blogs to read and love and comment on ? Yea, ok, i can do that. Piece of cake i thought. But, to be honest with you, it wasnt all that easy. I thought i would just click on five random blogs ( scroll down the page with my eyes shut and click on which ever link the cursor rested on ... ) and i would have a hard time choosing the best of them to write my post about. But i tried that and i didnt fall under the spell of any of that first five. I tried it again - i didnt melt for any of the second five either. Its not to say that those 10 blogs that i perused were " bad " - just that the blog subject or the writing style didnt jump out and grab me. I'm a bit fussy with my blog reading i think - your style of writing really has to read well, really needs to jump out at me, other wise i'm gonna be bored. I'm a self confessed Yoga Nazi, so maybe i'm a Blog Nazi too, i dont know. What i'm saying is there is a whole bunch of good Blog This!-ers out there, some of them just dont necessarily speak to me. However, after much blog surfing, i stumbled upon ...

Brea's Befuddled Brain.

No, i did not trip over and ACTUAL brain, thats the name of Brea's blog. What is funny is that when i saw the picture of Brea on her blog i thought she looked familiar... and then i realised she was a follower of MY blog and i'd never had a look at hers. Bad, bad, blog manners Amy! What is also funny is that the most recent post when i first went to her blog ( i have been back subsequently ) was regarding the Ultimate Blog Party 2010 and she'd actually written a little introduction/welcome to her blog .... which made my job so much easier! And i like the way the lady writes - seems she shares my slightly sarcastic, kinda kooky sense of humour - which makes me wanna stick around on her blog. Hell, i even pressed the follow button and contributed to her goal of achieving 100 followers by her next birthday. Ambitious.Witness this passage, direct from Brea's post:
There's been a Party happening right under my nose for the past week and I've stubbornly resisted attending.

It's not because I'm shy or anything, nothing as glamorous as that. Truthfully? It's because I can't be bothered shaving my legs.
Also:
* We both have pierced belly buttons and tattoos
* We're both mumma's
* She just recently dyed her hair a burgundy/red colour and i'm tossing up doing the same
* She's uses the word " befuddled " which, frankly, i think is waaaaay under-used.
* She said ( above ) that she didnt attend the Ultimate Blog Party 2010 because " I can't be bothered shaving my legs ". Tongue in cheek of course because the Blog Party was an online event, but it made me cack because i'm one of these chickies that will wear long pants on a warm day because i couldnt be arsed getting the razor out ( like today, for example ).

And so, by taking part in this weeks challenge, i've reached out and virtually shook hands with Brea. Maybe you could too - pop over and do her a favour, press her Follow button and help her reach her goal!

Obscured by clouds, Sanbiki No Saru, and Mother Nature’s Lesson

Obscured by Couds is the instrumental first track on the album of the same name released in 1972 by the super group Pink Floyd which regular readers of this blog will know are one of my all time favorite groups. 1972 was also a good year for me as well.

The fact this album came to mind this week results from a number of issues coming to the fore in my mind. The first being the ever increasing problems resulting from the cloud of volcanic smoke and steam hanging over Iceland. This still growing and dangerous cloud is the aftermath of the second eruption of the Eyjafjallajokull volcano this month. The cloud has caused all kinds of chaos with the closure of European airports. Eight European countries closed their airspace last week and many Europe-bound flights have not been able to leave Australia and Asia. There does not seem to be any resolution to this in sight. The situation is fast moving from a humorous inconvenience to something more concerning. Rightly perhaps, the news reports have also grown exponentially to reflect these concerns.

The second story to use up news paper space, and TV time was the first live election debate held in Manchester this week. I am not sure what we gained from the experience and I was reminded of the three monkeys depicted in the old Japanese proverb principle to ‘see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil’. However, the coverage was immense and frankly quickly became tedious. Perhaps the programme producers, politicians and reporters have forgotten that the Japanese proverb sometimes also includes a forth monkey - symbolising the principle of ‘do no evil’. I won’t even comment on the media clamour that has accompanied the return to our screens of Britain’s got Talent.

The huge amount of time and commentary devoted to these stories nearly completely obscured the other dreadful natural occurrence, the earthquake in Western China. This powerful earthquake registered 6.9 and has destroyed the town of Gyegu in the county of Yushu. At the time of writing the loss of life involved has reached over 800 people. Providing aid and help has been made more difficult by the terrain and isolation of the town and the inaccessibility caused by lack of infrastructure and equipment.

Amidst the reports of such devastation were images of startling power and humility. As if in a Zhang Yimou film, photos of 100’s of Tibetan Buddhist monks clad in crimson cloaks and jackets illustrated the way in which they had flocked to join the rescue effort undertaken by soldiers and rescue teams.

Finally, for those of you who don’t know whilst the album Obscured by Clouds is a brilliant collection of music in its own right, it was also the soundtrack for the film La Vallee. This film tells the story of the wife of the French Consul resident in Australia, who joins a group of explorers in search of a mysterious hidden valley in the forests of New Guinea the world’s second largest island.

She hopes to find the feathers of an extremely rare exotic bird. As they make their way through the dense jungles of Papua New Guniea they come across the Magupa tribe, one of the most isolated groups of human beings on earth. This is a tribe who are completely in-tune with nature, the seasons, and have explanations for the unpredictable as well as the predictable. It is this encounter that allows and inspires them to explore their own humanity, unfettered by their own subjective ideas of ‘civilization’. It seems to me that as dreadful as the volcanic eruption and earthquake might be, it maybe Mother Natures way of allowing us to take a step back from the brink and reconsider what we understand our own civilization to mean.

" It's In Fashion " Is NOT An Excuse

Oh yea, i'm up on my fashion soapbox again. Lets face it - i'm no style icon - but i know what i like and i know what is not flattering. Which is, unfortunately, not the case with everybody else. Some people know what they like but what they like is bleh; some people think that just because something is in fashion means they should wear it, regardless of what it actually looks like on them; and some people have no clue, dont want one, and wear whatever they feel like, regardless of current fashions and/or flattering-ness ( which isnt a word, but who cares ? ).

I'm all for individuality, so if you're one of these totally awesome people that can shop at flea markets and op-shops and throw together the most gorgeous, vintage, rocking ensemble without the slightest hint of effort, than good for you. What i'm not for is slavery to fashion, and heinous crimes against said fashion - you shouldnt pander at the fashion alter, but nor should you ignore it so much that what you pass as an " outfit " could burn someone elses retinas. I'm also " anti " some apparently fashionable things, or fashion trends. My biggest bug bare? Leggings.

I've said it once, i'll say it again, as loud as the blog medium will let me: LEGGINGS ARE NOT PANTS. Leggings ( or tights, whichever you prefer ) are not acceptable as an alternative to pants. They are not interchangeable. I'm ok with wearing leggings are under skirts and dresses - hell, i'm even alright with leggings under shorts ( although its not entirely flattering ) - but what i am not ok with is leggings, on their ownsome, worn as one would wear a pair of pants. Witness:

Stolen from www.domestica.typepad.com

You will  notice that these are leggings - NOT pants. I can see every contour of this girls body - hell, she's naked enough to be able to rest the support pole between her butt cheeks. Pants would contain hardy fabric which would make this little disappearing trick a little, well, trickier. Also - notice that poor old Pop there does not know where to look. Probably because if he looks down he will not only be able to count the individual dimples on this girls thighs, but he'll also be able to tell how good a job her waxer does. Seriously, a little mystery would be so much more attractive. AS WOULD SOME PANTS!!

My other pet fashion hate the moment ? Boys in tight jeans. Tight jeans are awesome for legendary 80's rockstars ( see, please Bon Jovi, Jon and Micheals, Brett ). They are not so awesome for every pimply, teenage skate rat i see skulking around the mall. Especially when  the tight pants are accompanied by a visible underwear waistband. I dont wanna know what brand of underwear your mum buys you, and i dont want to get the  hint of your adolscent plumbers cleavage. I feel like a grandma but.... for God's sake, pull your bloody pants up!

Ok, rant over. I just had to get that off my chest before i go through my wardrobe and figure what still fits my post-pregnancy body ( baby boobs are an issue... ) and therefore prepare myself for what fashions may confront me at Tar-jay and Big W ( oh yea, unpaid maternity leave is also a wardrobe issue ... ).

You Gotta Be In It To Win It

The lottery that is. And i'm not usually - i might buy a lottery ticket once or twice a year, so its highly doubtful that i'll ever win the big bucks but, for the sake of a blog post, lets just pretend that i did win big. Say $50 million dollars big. What would i do with it ? ( NOTE: i totally stole this very simple idea from Erin @ Motherhood Y'all ).

#1: Umm, boring - i'd pay off my debts. Which, for me, means my mortgage, my car loan and a couple of hundred dollars on a credit card. I'd also pay Mickey J's debt and our immediate families. Way to get in the good books right ?

#2: Pay for my wedding and honeymoon - we still havent set an official date yet but Mick and I plan on getting married sometime around September or October next year. My parents have a bit of money set aside to pay for it all but i'd much rather pay for it myself. Either way, whether we had $1000, $10 000 or $1 million dollars, it wont be an extravagant affair. We're just not that kind of people. Beautiful dress ? Yep. Pretty location? Yep. Good food? Yep. Should it cost the price of a new car ? Umm - nup.

#3: Buy a new house - for my little family ( we currently live in a two bedroom duplex that i - or the bank - own ) and one for each of our immediate family members. That way, after having already paid off their debts, they could have a new home to live in and one as an investment property to earn them money. Tricky....

#4: Set some aside for my children - well, i only have one at the moment but i will have more in the future ( i'm like 99% sure ). So i'd set aside a big lump sum as a trust fund, say one that couldnt be touched til they were 25. I would hope by then that they'd figured out their priorities in life and then they could put the money to good use. You know, instead of blowing $50 000 on booze and parties and sexual liasions. Which is all fun, just not what me as Mum would want the money spent.

#5: Investment - i dont really know how the investment market works so i'd have to get some help with that, but i wouldnt wanna blow all my moolah on junk. I'd be smart enough to put some into stocks, or into the property market ( or, you know, whatever ) so that i could make money off of my money. I don't mean for that to sound greedy, but you'd do that too right?

#6: Give to charity - maybe a $100 000 or so. I'd give to a few different causes : Westmead Childrens Hospital in Sydney, Careflight, The Jane McGrath Foundation.... things like that. I might give some to a foreign aid charity, but only after i'd fixed up some Australian interests first. I'm not against foreign aid ( i've sponsored a child through World Vision for 9 years... ) i just would like to give to a charity this is going to help in my community first, thats all.

#7: ( Lucky last ) Living allowance - i'd quit my job so i could be a SAHM for a while ( until Flynn and any subsequent children were at school ) so i'd need to allot some money to the day to day running of our house. Maybe $80 000 a year? Thats more than what we live off now but its not flashy - enough to cover bills and neccessities but with a little extra for luxuries and holidays. Yep, that sounds about right.

So how about you guys? Where would your Lotto winnings go ? ( Oooh, and speaking of winning things, head over to Blog This! and vote for me in this weeks poll. Please!?! )

Taxing Situation

My wife is ticked off. She finished preparing her taxes and I haven’t. Our dining room table has been covered with my papers for weeks. The printing calculator sits in the midst of slips and invoices for deductible things I paid for in 2009 and I’ve been working on it all when I can find a few hours between jobs. I’ve always hated paperwork, but it’s particularly hard to motivate myself with government paperwork. She did all that for her private counseling practice weeks ago, but I’m still at it for my writing and property-management business and she can’t file until I’m ready.

“Make sure you tell the accountant it’s your fault and not mine,” she said. I filed for an extension and wrote checks for the amount we paid last year - about $11,000 for state and and federal taxes. That’s in addition to what is taken out of my teacher salary for which I claim zero deductions - and I have them take out an additional $150 per pay period. The tax code is much too complicated to figure out, so we pay $3-4 hundred each year to have a CPA do help us with it. Sometime over the next six months, we’ll sit down with her and hope she can show us ways to avoid paying so much.

Half of all Americans, however, do not go through this because they pay no federal income tax. And, according to Derek Thompson at The Atlantic, because of college tuition credits, child credits, and something called the “Earned Income Tax Credit,” rather than write a check to the government, government writes them a check! These are not refunds I’m talking about here. They get more back from the government than was ever deducted from their paychecks - assuming they actually work. They don’t dread April 15th like I do. They look forward to it because it’s a payday. This time every year, money goes out of my account and into theirs.

During the first few years of my 35-year teaching career, government had me under the poverty line because I made less than $10,000 per year with a wife and four children. I cut firewood. We grew a garden, raised animals, drove clunkers, shopped at Goodwill, and ate a lot of soup. We got by and we even look back on those times as among our happiest. The kids are grown now and my wife works. I’m still a teacher but with a little business on the side, so now we’re “rich.” The left moans that “The rich get richer and the poor get poorer,” but I don’t think that’s necessarily the case. Maybe it’s time to coin another phrase, such as “The ‘poor’ are getting richer while the ‘rich’ are getting poorer” because of the confiscatory power of government.
The Earned Income Tax Credit alone costs $50 billion a year. For months, I’ve been hearing radio ads in which a Spanish-accented woman tells us how fulfilling it is to work for the United Way telling more and more people about the EITC so they can get money from government too. In his latest column, Mark Steyn cited Congressman Paul Ryan’s claim that 20% of US households get about 75% or their income from the federal government. Another 20% get 40% of their income from federal programs. That’s four out of ten households. Throw in another 11% who are guilt-ridden, trust-funded, limousine liberals and you have a solid voting majority in any national election.

To keep this gravy train on the tracks, government goes further into debt by $1.5 trillion each year. We’re $12 trillion in the hole now, but with Obamacare, we’re frantically digging deeper. The McClatchey Newspapers write that since it passed, “Questions . . . have flooded insurance companies, doctors' offices, human resources departments and business groups. ‘They're saying, “Where do we get the free Obama care, and how do I sign up for that?” ’ said Carrie McLean, a licensed agent for eHealthInsurance.com.”

During the week before election day in 2008, a supporter at one of Obama’s rallies named Peggy Joseph said, “[When he’s elected] I won’t have to worry about putting gas in my car. I won’t have to worry about paying my mortgage.”
The top 25% of earners pay 85% of federal income taxes, while the bottom 50% pay only 3% - and that’s after those tax cuts for the “rich” they whine about so much. No wonder they vote for Democrats.

Next on the Democrat agenda is amnesty for about 20 million illegal aliens. That will make voters who don’t pay income tax an even more solid majority. Mark Steyn asks: “If 51 percent can vote themselves government lollipops from the other 49 percent, soon 60 percent will be shaking down the remaining 40 percent, and then 70 percent will be sticking it to the remaining 30 percent. How low can it go?”

Good question.

Adventures in Mush and Toothy-Pegs

So.... i've started my little Flynn on rice cereal. He is almost 16 weeks and will be 4 months old going off birthdate on the 27th of this month. Which means that yes, i have started him on "solids " just shy of 4 months of age, which is the youngest age they should be ( at a minimum ) according to health recommendations. So anyone who wants to use the comments to tell me that " you cant start solids before 4 months! Midwives reckon you should wait til 6 months! " or something to that effect, feel free. I welcome debate in the comments section ( see my post entitled " I'm No Mummy Hater... " - mummy-debate galore! ). Basically it came down to this - my baby boy is getting increasingly hungry and by our second-to-last and last feeds of the night my booby juice is starting to almost run dry, which means Flynn is pulling himself off, after 40 minutes between boobies, and he's crying 'cause he's still hungry. I figured it was either top him up with formula and get him addicted - thus rejecting mummies milk and making her sad - or just starting him on one rice cereal feed a day, a week or two earlier than recommended. A boy has to eat right ?

Right. And so we've started ourselves on rice cereal. Mmm.... looks like mush and i'm pretty sure it probably tastes like soggy cardboard, but Flynny has taken to it pretty well. We've only had two nights on it so far - the first night i'm pretty sure most of it ended up on his bib and he thought the spoon was a bit weird, but last night he settled into it a bit better. In fact, when everything was gone out of the bowl and i popped the bowl up on the table ( he sits in his bouncer and i sit on the floor ), he turned his little head and kept staring at the bowl, as if magically trying to will it back. Clever little fella - only two nights of proper mush and he's already figured out mush comes from the bowl and the purple spoony thingo.

Also - i think my little dude is teething. He's pretty much the King of the Dribble-Guts anyway, but he's been extra dribbly, extra rosy-cheeked and extra snuggly the last few days. I'm loving the snuggles but i'm not enjoying the huge screams every now and then, especially when he's finished feeding ( apparently all that sucking makes the gums swell, or something, making them more sensitive ). I cant see any tell-tale lumps popping up yet but when i give him something to bite on or rub his gums for him he settles a bit. I gave him some baby Panadol last night to calm him down but i'm thinking i should get some gel or something when i'm next at the shops. I know my little man is in some kind of pain, but honestly - i'm just excited to see a tooth pop up!

Ah - my little man is growing so quickly! ( Cliche yes, but i have to acknowledge its truth - i want him to be a chubby cheeked bubba forever! )

Letters, Chewing Gum and Communication

Gordon Brown sent me a letter this week. I wondered why he chose me to communicate with. We have never met, we hold fundamentally different political views and beliefs, and Kirkcaldy and Cowdenbeath is to be found on the opposite side the part of the Scotland I love to visit. In the interest of fairness and equal opportunities I expect I will also receive a letter from David and Nick – it is of course Election time again. Whilst I have voted at every opportunity there has been since I came of age, my interest, has since May 1997, being rather perfunctory. Since the 6th April this year I have become fed up with the wall to wall media coverage of an event that like the Olympics, the World Cup, and who wins Big Brother, frankly doesn’t do anything for me at all.

Clearly the Legacy Projects post Olympics are worthwhile, and the competition itself provides an opportunity for personal achievement, team working and at times an almost jingoistic level of support for competitors. Likewise I was able to see the huge developments and improvements to many areas of the fabric of the South African infrastructure as they prepared for the World Cup. As for Big Brother, the TV reality show named after George Orwell’s dystopian book 1984, and which some would say provides a new opportunity for sociological study, the incessant media hype that has usually accompanied the show turns me off Big Time.

Possibly it is TV as a form of communication media that I find is the rub. Of course, like everyone else, I have the ubiquitous flat screen TVs scattered throughout my house. I like watching the news, and indeed start my day at 5am watching the BBC News, and I try and do so wherever I am in the world. I am immensely interested in the human condition and the relationships that make up our everyday worlds. But I wouldn’t watch Coronation Street, EastEnders or Emmerdale to feed this interest, in fact I wouldn’t watch them at all. Whereas I would go out of my way to watch and or record Outnumbered which I think brilliantly captures and observes everyday family life, and of course who could miss Have I got News For You or Top Gear, both of which connect with my sense of humour. So in many respects I am no different from others, perhaps just have different tastes.

As I observed last week, respecting difference is important. Thanks to those of you who took the time to make a comment. I waited until this post to respond to the question raised in one of these comments. This was around a concern that Blogs as a form of communication were being discouraged by the University.

I don’t know if our University is becoming less keen for colleagues and or students to write blogs. I would hope not. Blog's, as a form of communication can be very effective. Of course there will be boundaries that get set, challenged and re-set from time to time. I have noted in previous blog’s the tensions I experience from time to time in feeling able to present issues that others might feel bring my organisational position or professional standing into disrepute. In response to the other part of your question, I am a nurse and proud to be known as one. I understand the responsibilities to the profession that come from making such an assertion. However, as noted above, I also have views about a whole range of issues, concerns and phenomena that often have nothing directly to do with nursing. I have been fortunate to find many avenues to get my ideas and thoughts into the public domain and have benefited from the resultant discussion as other agree or disagree with what I have said.

Personally, I would suggest that anyone thinking about undertaking a degree which would lead to a professional career such as nursing, medicine, law and so on, should be more wary about their use of more main stream social networks such as Facebook, than writing blogs. Arguably such social networking sites may unintentionally provide a record of personal experiences that would perhaps best be kept private and personal and not given an airing in the public domain. It also seems to me to be a rather sad enterprise that is masquerading as communication. It was Frank Lloyd Wright who once remarked that television is chewing gum for the eyes. This was modification of Karl Marx’s observation that religion was the opiate of the people. Perhaps we need to find a new metaphor for social networking. And finally, I note that Gordon, David and Nick have said they would be happy to make video responses to questions sent via Facebook and UTube about their polices and plans for the future. So perhaps Gordon does know me after all, and hence the letter he sent me on Friday.

You Want Freaky?

Time again for another Blog This! challenge. This week i have to:
Tell your readers about a weird co-incidence, freaky story or a six-or-less degrees of separation moment! I'm going to cheat a little on this one by re-posting a story i have told before. So if you've been reading my blog for a while now you needn't bother reading this time. If you have no idea what i'm talking about, then brace yourself - this one is an epic!!

For those of you who are not up on your geography or world heritage sites, that is Machu Picchu, an ancient Inca city built into the Andes mountains. You may recognise it from Lonely PLanet guidebooks, National Geographic calendars or any of the 1001 travel shows being broadcast around the globe. It is, undeniably, a popular tourist destination - and the best way to get there ? On foot. Yes - foot: a four day trek through the Andes, starting at an outpost known as KM88 and finishing at Machu Picchu ( hopefully at either sunrise or sunset, if you time it right ... ). So that's we're i'll start my story - on the Inca Trail, on the 2nd day of the trek.

I'm not going to lie - the Inca Trail is no easy slog. Its not like i was some kind of ultra-fit, athletic superwoman . I was a slightly-larger-than-I-am-now trekking novice who'd never done anything at altitude before. But it promised to be the adventure of a lifetime, and who was i to turn that down ( even if it did feel like my lungs were going to explode ) ? Just making it into camp on the first day - accompanied by my all-male encouragement troupe, 3 guys i'd only known a few days before who insisted that singing " Eye of the Tiger " would motivate us up the mountain - was a Godsend. Day two promised to be harder. By mid mornng we would be ( slowly, painfully ) making our way to Warminwayusca, or Dead Womans Pass. This pass is 4500m above sea level and, as the highest point on the trek, is considered the toughest part of the journey. With the whole group having reached the summit, we stopped for a snack and a photo opportunity. It was from here that everything went downhill- both literally and figuratively.

My boys, after the trek - i believe they had moved onto Spice Girls songs by then

When our guide said it was time to pack ourselves up and get on the move, i tired sitting up but i felt all lightheaded and lethargic - it was like all the energy had been completely drained out of my body. I took a minute and tired to gather myself together but, when i looked a little wobbly on my feet, my guide and one of the other guys volunteered to walk at the back with me. Within a half an our, not only was i wobbly on my feet but i could barely seem to lift my arms - rather than walking with my walking sick, i was dragging it behind me in the dirt. My trekking buddy, Lachlan, said he'd carry my pack for me and my guide Jugo supported me on one side. I'd been drinking water and we'd only just eaten, so i should have all the energy in the world, but within another half hour, my vision had gone blurry and i was now being supported on both sides. I wasnt so much as walking, as being slowly dragged up the mountain side by an ex-Army recruit and a small Incan man. Mind you, all the guides are trained in first aid and a nurse in our group mentioned she thought i might be dehydrated or could possibly have altitude sickness.

And so we stopped. Jugo radioed ahead for one of the porters to come back with some blankets and he sat me down on a very comfy rock on the side of the trail. He gave me me water and put me on an oxygen tank for 20 minutes. He also made me inhale some foul smelling yuck, which apprently alleviates the symptoms of altitude sickness. All of that and - nada. I could barely breath, by this time could barely see, and felt like both my arms and legs were being weighed down by concrete. To be quite honest, i wuld have been perfectly happy to curl up on that there rock and die. Obviously, leaving me to die on a barren hillside isnt wasnt exactly part of Jugo's job description so... they carried me. Yes, you read that right - Jugo, Lachlan and Alejandro, the young guide who came back with the blankets, carried me. On their backs, They tied me on with the blankets, just like Peruvian women do with their babies.Hell, they even ran! Lachlan was a big guy, but Jugo and Alejandro were typically short, small, Incan men, and they ran with my whole 60kg/150lb of weight on their backs. I was slipping in and out of conscious - the only thing i do clealy remember is catching up to the rest of our group and Jugo telling them they had to get me immediately to camp.

Which is where i woke up. I woke up with Jugo leaning over me, stroking my head, telling me i was going to be okay, not to worry, he was sending someone into see me. Yep, no worries - zzzzzzzzz. Next thing i know there is a " Hola, senorita ? Hola ? " at the opening to my tent and in comes this really old guy. Here comes the cool part - he props my head up and starts muttering, kind of chanting, in the local Incan language. I was already almost completely out of it, too far gone to make any objection to what he was doing anyway. So the old guy keeps up the muttering and then he lights up something a bowl until it starts smoking. Once he had his smoke going, he blew it all over me: directly into my face, over the top of my head, down the front of my shirt, everywhere. He rubbed whatever he'd crushed up in his bowl over my face and arms, finished up with his chanting, said " Buenos noches, senorita ", and disappeared. Two of my female trekking companions them came in and helped me put on more clothing layers and then - blackness. I passed out or fell asleep for a while and then rested very fitfully ( i;d say slept, but i dont think i really did ) for the rest of the night.

Morning comes and .... i feel awesome. I wake up feeling great, go out and eat breakfast with everyone - albeit while copping some very strange looks from my trek buddies. Everyone wants to know how i feel and Jugo takes me aside to make sure i'm feeling okay. And that was it, we set off for the day. No-one rally talks much about the day before, except to say that i looked terrible, all limp like a rag doll and one of our older members thought i might have been dead. No-one bothers to tell me what may or may not have been wrong with me, but it didnt really matter because i was doing fine. It wasnt until our first snack break that anyone decided to let me in on what went on the previous night. So, take a deep breath people, here it comes : I WAS POSSESSED. Don't re-red that to see if it makes more sense, it wont. Apparently, whilst i had been laid up in my tent, delirious, Jugo had taken everyone else aside and told them what was going to happen, because he didnt want them to think i was being taken advantage of or anything. He, and the other porters - all Peruvian indian men - thought i had been taken over by a mountain spirit, spirits that the Incan people believed kept guard over their trail. The elderly gentleman, who turned out to be one of our porters, was also a kind of Incan medecine man, was going to go in an perform some kind of exorcism ritual, and expel whatever spirit it was that had taken me over.

And there you have it - when all the scientific medecines didnt work, when i only continued to get worse, it was decided that i must have been possessed and only pagan magic could save me. And you know what ? It did. The oxygen, the foul smelling inhalant, the water and pills, none of that worked but the chanting and the smoke blowing had me feeling as fresh as a daisy. Not only did i not struggle with the rest of the trek, but i was the second person to make it to the gateway to Machu Pichhu. It was like i'd been suddenly blessed or something. When we had finished our tek and met back up in town with our other tour guide, Jonathon, he told me in full what had gone on. He said he had only heard of two other women in 15 years of leading tours who had got so sick, so suddenly, and in the same spot on the trek ( straight after Dead Womans Pass ), and the same smoke blowing, chanting, praying-whatever worked on them too. You can believe what you want but, having lived the experience and being of a hippie-dippie spiritual mind anyway, i'm like 95% sure something otherworldly happened to me up there.
Either way, it sure beats the hell out of most peoples vacation stories....

I'm No Mummy-Hater......

Ok - so i know we're supposed to have a mummy-sisterhood, and we shouldnt pass judgement on other mummies for what they do or dont do. But i'm gonna, right here, right now, because its been bugging me all week.

I know two lovely women who were both blessed with brand new bubbas this week just gone - one on April 1st and one on April 2nd. Their precious little bundles couldnt be more different - one a boy, almost 9lb, the other a girl, only 3 ounces over 5lb - and neither could the mummas, but they've both done something in the first few days of their babies lives that has had me shaking my head and mumbling " Wha? ". Annoyance #1: the first woman had a baby that took straight to the boob. Her breastfeeding chart in hospital was full of rankings of 4 and 5's ( attached and feeding really well ). Within two days of going home however she had taken him off the breast and put him on to formula, saying that her breasts were too small for him to get milk out off. Which could be true, except the hospital chart would say otherwise, and those who know her best think she's decided to go onto formula because she's too lazy to get up in the night and breastfeed. What?!? That may or not be true, but it if it is i find it greatly annoying ( and i'd be a trifle disgusted in it ). My Flynn found it difficult to attach in the first week or so - in fact we stayed in hospital an extra day and a half just so i was confident that i'd be able to feed him something - and we still feed with the aid of a nipple shield. It hasnt been a nightmare, but nor has been an easy ride ( or entirely convenient ). But i do it because its the best thing for him, and i love him enough to be slightly inconvenienced and tired. And Lady#1 gives up within two days, on a bubba who was a natural to the boob, because she's too lazy? And not only that but straight onto the formula and feeding a 3 day old 60ml at each feed - without consulting a doctor, a midwife, and LAC, not even a chemist. I'm no expert, but that just doesnt seem right. And that lack of loving attention and wanting to do whats best just got up my nose.

Annoyance #2: i know there is HUUUUUUGE debate about SAHM vs working mums. Frankly i would love to not have to go back to work in October but i dont think our finances will allow for it. Working mums are awesome and i have no beef with them. However, i draw the line at returning to work before your baby is a week old. Especially when she is so tiny ( smaller than a Cabbage Patch doll, wearing 000 000 sized clothes ). And especially when you own the business so there is no narky old boss pressuring you to return. Surely someone els can do the spreadsheet for the wages, answer the phone and help a handful of clients for a week or two? She is taking the bubba to work with her ( and her 2 year old son ) but how she expects to get work done and be able to give appropriate attention to the kids is beyond me.

And so - rant over. I know i'm a first time mum and my son is only 3 and half months old so i'm by no means an expert .... but thats just how i feel. You can call me out for ignoring the sacred bonds of motherhood if you want, but we all have our opinions. Of course, its not my place to share these opinons with either of these ladies so i had to get it off my chest somewhere.....

Government of Anointed Intellectuals

The more government tries to fix something, the worse it gets. New England yankees used to say, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” Government, however, goes by the aphorism “If it ain’t broke, we’ll keep on fixing it ’til it is.”

In his most recent book Intellectuals and Society, economist Thomas Sowell dichotomizes Americans into those who view the world with a “tragic vision” and those who look at it with the “vision of the anointed.” The former believe the world will always be less than perfect, but people have the liberty to pursue happiness - and whether they succeed or fail is up to them. The “anointed,” though, believe they have superior wisdom, and with it, they can perfect the world if people will just do what they say. They would use government to impose their vision on everyone else, like it or not.Thomas Sowell

Those of us with a tragic vision see the Constitution as limiting government, which is a necessary evil. The anointed see the Constitution as something to get around so they can use government to “fix” everything. They see human nature as evolving and perfectible. They see no limit to what legislation can accomplish, and see nothing as immutable because they are anointed with superior wisdom. They believe, for example, that the law of supply and demand can be repealed if they will it. But the supply and demand dynamic isn’t the result of legislation; it just exists - always has and always will - independent of the anointed’s ability to discover it or define it. Government can outlaw drugs, prostitution or child pornography, but if there’s a demand, a supply will emerge. In spite of massive expenditures of money and manpower, the best government can do is reduce the supply somewhat and drive up prices. We learned that between the 18th and 21st Amendments to the Constitution, which were monuments to government overreach. The anointed thought they could ban alcohol and found out they couldn’t. Government could outlaw it, but if people wanted it, and they did, they’d find a way to get it. Smugglers got rich supplying it whether they were moonshiners or mafioso.

Maine’s government can increase taxes on cigarettes, but as local merchants try to tell them over and over, people will  continue to smoke and buy their cigarettes in New Hampshire or elsewhere. Government won’t get more revenue from the increased tax, but less. The same is true of income taxes and mandatory workmen’s compensation insurance. Make them too high and people will find a way to get around them. The underground economy will grow, not government coffers.

Our Founding Fathers rule of thumb was: “That government is best that governs least.” This kernel of wisdom is variously attributed to Thomas Jefferson and Henry David Thoreau and, until progressives started  using government to “fix” things in the 20th century, it was the American way. It’s the polar opposite of the anointed progressive mantra, which is: “That government is best that governs most.” In the early days of the century, anointed progressives at least had the decency to abide by the Constitution. To expand government power, they passed four amendments. Two were okay, including the 17th - allowing the direct election of US Senators, and the 19th - giving women the vote. The other two, however, were disastrous. The 16th created the income tax, and the 18th prohibited alcohol. Prohibition was repealed after sixteen years by the 21st Amendment and should have been a lesson on the limits of government for all time, but it wasn’t of course.

Progressives lost power in the 1920s. Then, when faced with economic slowdown, conseervative presidents Harding and Coolidge cut taxes and shrunk government. As a result, the economy thrived. Progressives regained control in the thirties however, and tried to “fix” another economic slowdown by creating a huge government bureaucracy. As a result, they prolonged it and turned it into The Great Depression. It might have gone on even longer if World War II hadn’t started. Nonetheless, progressives were able to give us our first major, unsustainable entitlement - social security - which is now bankrupt.

After an 8-year respite under Eisenhower, progressives came back with Johnson’s Great Society which gave us another major, unsustainable, bankrupt entitlement: Medicare. If conservatives hadn’t taken over Congress in 1994, progressives in the Clinton Administration would have given us still another major, unsustainable entitlement: socialized medicine for everyone. Now, in spite of a $12 trillion federal debt and a projected $100 trillion deficit in Social Security and Medicare entitlements, government is about to “fix” a medical system which is the envy of the world. How long will it take before it resembles the department of motor vehicles and the public schools?

Naturally, the president and the anointed progressives in Congress who imposed this upon the rest of us, have exempted themselves.