What I just emailed to Walmart

Let's be clear, I do not expect a response. Walmart has a long history of employee abuses, so why would they react differently to this death due to their inability or unwillingness to provide adequate crowd control for the Black Friday insanity. But after continually reading about the death of this employee, I decided to email Walmart. Here's the content of that email:

After reading multiple stories about the death of a temporary employee at your Long Island store, I am still left asking what you are going to do to help his family. Your company incited shoppers to behave like animals with your "door buster" prices for Black Friday and then failed to provide adequate crowd control to keep employees and other shoppers safe. Now there is a family in Queens who has to face Christmas with one less person at their table. So Walmart, what are you going to do for them? How are you going to ensure that this kind of tragedy NEVER happens again? And are you willing to stop this Black Friday nonsense with the super low prices that encourage this kind of insanity?
All eyes are on you, you need to act like the industry leader that you claim you are and not let this become one more case of employee abuse that you have become known for.

An apology to an old dear frend.

Dear coffee,
As I sit here enjoying my 5th cup of the morning I realized I left you off my thankful list. I'm so sorry. I hope you know that I could not exist without your subtle buzz. There is no finer, nor more delicious substitute for sleep that is both legal and delicious. I am sorry to have neglected to call out your significant contribution to my life an family.
I hope you will forgive this oversight, and continue to serve as my primary crutch. At least until the boys decided that sleeping is actually quite enjoyable.
Sincerely, your greatest devotee,
Laura

Hey, thanks!

So we've finished our Thanksgiving dinner, the dishes are done and we are taking the ever important digestion break before we dig into our pie. As I sit here, I think of all the reasons I am thankful this year. And because everything I do, think or say seems to end up in my blog, I'm going to share with you.

1. I'm thankful for my family. Not just my own little family of Mr. Dog, the kids, and the dogs, but my mom, dad and sister too. More than family, we are friends. I enjoy spending time with them and moving to Seattle to close the distance gap a bit more was one of the best decisions I've ever made.

2. I'm thankful for my fantastic husband. Who else would put up with my eccentricities and love me even when I'm being petulant and moody? Who else would get my insane jokes, and awesome dancing? Who else could know when I wanted advice and when I just needed a hug? Mr. Dog, marrying you was one of the wisest things this very wise woman has ever done.

3. I'm thankful for friendships that will last a lifetime. Stan, Auntie Chihuahua and Maria, you are my rock. As close as blood relatives, I will always look to you for support and know that whenever we get together it will be just like picking up where we left off last time.

4. I'm thankful for my job. And not just because I have one, which most people would say is blessing enough in this economy, but because it is a job I love. My boss has offered me tons of encouragement and support. I get to do things that I care about, for a company that makes great products and employs amazing people. I understand some of them even have wives who are brilliant enough to enjoy my blog. Isn't that awesome?

5. I'm thankful for the health of my friends and family. I've recently heard so many stories about people suffering serious illness or injuries it reminds me just how lucky we are. (knocks wood)

6. I'm thankful for our the outcome of the Presidential election. You all knew who I was rooting for, and I'm so happy the majority of voters felt the same way. I'm hoping his leadership, and his message of hope, inclusion and responsibility will help restore our country to the position we once held in the eyes of the rest of the world.

7. I'm thankful for TiVo. Really. How else does a mother of small boys get to watch Law and Order SVU?

8. I'm thankful for wine. Do I really need to explain? Red wine, you are a delicious friend. And no, I do not have an inappropriate relationship with this buddy. Please don't plan an intervention, it is unnecessary. I do know my limits.

9. I'm thankful for all of you who read this blog. I'm constantly amazed by the fantastic comments you leave, the support when I'm down and the hilarious stories that make my life seem sane and normal. But especially the comments. Damn I love those.

What are you thankful for?

I forgot

Last night Mr. Dog made dinner. It happens sometimes, but I tend to be the default dinner maker in out house. When he does make dinner, it frequently involves meat, something I don't know how to cook. Thing were running a little later than usual, and the boys had eaten a snack before dinner was ready. As he was getting ready to serve the meal, Big Dog asked, "What's for supper?"
"Meatloaf and potatoes," replied Mr. Dog.
"No! No no no no no no no!" howled Big Dog then he paused, "I forgot, what's meatloaf?"
Yeah, we've never fed him meatloaf. He's never had it, doesn't know what it is. So after his lament about Mr. Dog's choice in dinner, he realized he should probalby know what it was.
"It's meat, baked into a loaf," explained Mr. Dog.
"Oh! I like meat, and I like loaves," Big Dog chimed in happily.
And he ate every last bite.

The longest 10 minutes of my life

Sunday we had a busy day, we ran errands and then went to the Zoo. We go there a lot, especially in cold weather. They have a great indoor play area where the boys can burn off a little energy and I don't have to freeze at a park. Perfect. So anyway, we were there on Sunday, but Little Dog was not into it and Big Dog wanted to see some animals. It wasn't that cold, so we decided to take a walk and see some exhibits. After that, Little Dog was done. Really really done. He needed to go home. I told Big Dog we were heading out and we started walking toward the exit.

Big Dog decided he wasn't quite ready to go, or maybe he was just frustrated that Little Dog was slowing down my progress, but he decided to run off ahead. Way ahead. I couldn't see him. I yelled for him and he didn't respond. At first I thought he was probably just at the first exhibit at the end of the path, but he wasn't. And the path became a T. I picked up Little Dog and told him we needed to find his brother. I ran down one side, then the other. Still no Big Dog. Now I was really starting to freak out. Little Dog was asking, "Mama, where is Big Dog?" and I had no idea.

I walked further down the path one direction yelling his name and then I realized if I walked too far down this direction and Big Dog backtracked from the other direction, he might panic if he didn't see me. So I headed back to the T in the path, still yelling and now starting to get teary. Little Dog was helping me yell, for every time I called out for Big Dog, his littler, but still pretty big, yell was like an echo of my call. A very nice family stopped and asked if they could help. Thank you! I gave them a description and they actually split up, mom and daughter heading one direction, son and father going the other, to help me find my boy.

After a few more moments, the daughter ran back and asked if I'd called the police yet. I hadn't, so I pulled out my phone and started to dial. And then I saw him walking back down the path, hand in hand with a woman who was helping him find his mom. Thank you! I ran to him, dropped to my knees and gave him a very tight squeeze. Tears were streaming down my face, I could hardly talk and the kind woman who brought him to me was now trying to calm me.

He'd been up the path by the cafe. This kind woman, and her friend who was just a few steps behind, had seen him standing there alone and asked him where his mommy was. When he replied "She's chasing me!" they knew that wasn't good. The asked him what I looked like and what I was wearing then set out to find me.

I don't think my heart rate has yet returned to normal. Even just thinking about this is making me weepy again. Big Dog and I have had a very serious talk about not running off. And I ordered an ID bracelet with my contact information on it, should we get separated again, but I don't know if that will really help. Though my first instinct was to never leave the house again, or to duct tape my children to my body so we never get separated again, I don't think either of those are realistic solutions. We're going to have to keep on having these talks so he doesn't forget, and I'm going to have to keep remembering that this time, there were kind people ready to help, and that everything turned out ok. But I keep rerunning the what ifs.

Hey uterus, shut up already!

Spent the afternoon with the boys, watching a room full of preschoolers throw themselves around on gym equipment, gorge themselves on cake and stare single-mindedly as their friend opened gifts. In other words, at a birthday party. Big Dog's best friend was celebrating his 5th birthday, and they fully enjoyed the experience. Not at all altered by fact that we very nearly missed the party because I was trying to wrap a newly purchased birthday gift in the car while parked at Target. While the boys played, I got a chance to catch up with some of the other moms and in a stunning turn of events, I found out that one of my friends is pregnant with her third child. I'm thrilled for her, and the prospect of another tiny baby in our circle of acquaintances is always exciting. And then my baby-clock started ticking. Loudly.

I've mentioned before that I would really like to have another baby. Yeah, for those of you who know me, I know, you think I'm nuts. Still, something about another baby keeps stabbing around in the back of my mind. Sometimes it even makes it to the very front. I mean, I know I don't want one right now, but maybe sometime. But Mr. Dog says no, and I have to respect that.

Maybe if I keep thinking of all the reasons it would be a terrible terrible idea, I can effectively kill that little part of my heart that longs for one more. Or at least string my desire along until I'm no longer able to procreate, I mean hell, I'm no spring chicken by most people's standards. Maybe if I focus on the fact we already are chronically sleep deprived, or that we live in a giant unfinished falling down house, or that I suck at being pregnant, or that breastfeeding really wasn't easy, or that babies are expensive, or that three kids might actually do me in...yeah, not working.

But I'm going to keep on trying. Hard.

A letter to my Passat Wagon. (yeah, a letter to my car, wanna make something of it?)

Dear Passat Wagon,
As you probably know, next month marks the 5th anniversary of car and owner relationship. And while I understand that you feel an anniversary of that magnitude deserves a gift to commemorate the day, I take objection to you shopping for your own gift. Personally, I think it is best for the gift giver to select the token of appreciation instead of having the gift recipient thrust their choice upon them.

In the five years we have been together, I think you can agree, I have taken care of your every mechanical need. I have provided you with routine maintenance and care by dealership mechanics. I've strictly complied with all prescribed tune-ups and oil changes. Sure, you may point out that I rarely if ever wash you, and that your interior is frequently soaked with chocolate milk and coated in food crumbs, but isn’t that part of being a station wagon?

I write this because I was recently shocked when I was presented with your demanded list of anniversary presents. Really, at 5 years and just over 55,000 miles, we are on the moderate range of use, and I have been committed to keeping you in shape. And still, at your most recent service I was presented with more than $2,200 worth of required repairs. I think this is beyond acceptable. Between the new rear brakes, the belts, the CV boots (not entirely sure what the hell that even is) and the oil seepage you have really splashed out in expenses. I’m left wondering if our relationship is really worth this. Seriously, you are still young and lively but you now make the demands of a MUCH older car. Had I neglected you or ignored your needs I might be more sympathetic. But let me be clear, I have not. I have been a good owner and a reasonable driver. The bulk of your work comes from daily trips to preschool, work and home. Occasionally I demand a longer trip down to Portland, but that is less than 380 miles round trip.

To your credit, you have been a reliable vehicle, your gas mileage is above average for a car of your size and you are much more fun to drive than I would have expected from a station wagon. But let’s not forget your diet of the highest cost gas, Premium, and your need for special synthetic motor oil. I’d also like to point out that your predecessor, my 2000 New Beetle, was subject to much harsher treatment and never once demanded this level of service. In the 4 short years I drove that car I piled on more than 113,000 miles, was in a major collision and many nights parked on the street in San Francisco.

So my dear Passat Wagon, I am asking you to shape up and put into this relationship at very least the same level of service and care that you have received. I am not likely to put up with this kind of frivolity in spending again. Should it come to this in the future, I’d be seriously tempted to replace your fancy German ass with a more appreciative model. Keep in mind, with the Big 3 in financial turmoil, there are probably plenty of good deals to be had. Consider this your notice.

Sincerely,
Laura

The Girl is Fine!

After a panicky and stressed out night, I got the call from the vet today. Everything looks good. The blood tests show her kidney function is smack in the middle of the normal range, there is no sign of Cushing's Disease and no real understanding of why her urine might have been dilute. The vet wants me to finish the course of antibiotics then bring in a first morning urine catch just to make sure there is no more problem with her ability to concentrate urine. I have never been more excited to hear my dog has a UTI. Really, it was the best news ever.

If you need more evidence that I am nearing insanity, I'm going to give you one more tidbit. This morning, before the vet called, I made Nikita go outside and used a pie tin to catch some of her pee just to make sure it was not pale. After watching Mao decline, I know what dilute urine looks like, and I just needed to convince myself she was going to be ok. So here I was, chasing my poor dog around the yard trying to slip a pie tin under her bum as she relieved herself. I must say she looked a little surprised by the whole exercise. That pee was bright yellow for the record. And yes, I should probably be seeking some kind of help for my insanity.

A special note to all of those who took time to comment yesterday. Thank you. I cannot express in words how much your kindness meant to me.

Woo Hoo, check me out!

A couple of weeks ago Mamikaze contacted me about working for her. Doing what, you ask? Let me tell you, no, better yet, let me show you.

Why I Love Being An Urban Mom

That's right, I'm going to be doing some work over at Type A Mom, as an Urban Mom editor. Once a week I'm going to be contributing some kind of witty, endearing article and I hope you'll be making it part of your regular reading.

Please not again, I'm not strong enough

Lately our house has had more than a few doggy accidents. Not great. Really smelly and gross, but we deal. But given the frequency and the fact that both dogs are really house-trained, I decided it may merit a trip to the vet. Doggies peeing in the house can be a symptom of many things.

So I bravely took my pup into see the vet. The did a urine catch (which I must say impresses me, how do you manage to slip a little tray under a squatting do in time to get some of that pee?) and then we got to see the vet.

Let me remind you that I lost my puppy-baby Mao last year. I am still raw from the experience. And as I stood in the waiting room, someone came out of the consultation room after having their dog put to sleep. It was a very old dog, very sick dog, but the pure pain and grief flowing from that dog daddy brought me back to last year. I immediately burst into tears of my own.

So when we were in the exam room, and the vet mentioned that Nikita's urine looked diluted, I lost it. This was one of the first symptoms of Mao's kidney failure. I can't help but worry that I'm going to lose this girl next. After talking with the vet a bit more, she said there was also blood in the urine, which usually signifies an infection, but I can't shake the worry. They did lab work which will be back in the morning. I'll find out if she has Cushing's Disease, or if there is even more serious kidney failure, or if she simply has an infection. I don't know how I'm going to be able to keep on going until I know. And it really needs to be an infection. Please don't make me face the loss of another furry baby. Please.

Things I don't have time or energy for

Want to know what gets on my nerves? Really? Cool, I've just whipped up this little list. In general I'm too tired to deal with the following annoyances:

1. Standing in line behind people who have complex requests for the cashier that are so complicate they cannot be clearly communicated, and require the requester to interrupt the cashier multiple times. Yeah lady at Starbucks, I'm talking about you!

2. Online forms that can be filled in online, but then must be printed and mailed in. You are missing the f'ing point of filling shit in online!

3. Mail in rebates. If you want to give me the rebate, just give it to me, I will very rarely retain my receipt, fill in your form, mail it back to you with the required piece of box. But you know that, don't you, marketing monkeys!

4. Spelling my last name for you on the phone more than once. And seriously, if you ask me to spell it, and you will, please have a pen ready so you don't have to stop me and ask me to start again.

5. Opening all of that packaging on DVDs and CDs. Seriously, why must they be hermetically sealed? I had to bite through the stickers holding Kung Fu Panda closed in the box. I'm lucky I didn't break a tooth. I'm not alone in this. NE doesn't bother with removing the stickers on her CDs she unhooks the hinge and uses the holding power of the security label as the new hinge. She's a genius in her own nutty way.

6. Buttons that fall off clothes. You heard me Old Navy, the Gap and Banana Republic! Please have your factories sew them on correctly in the first place. I can't find needles and thread in my house, hell, I'm lucky to be able to locate my own children most days. And don't pretend this isn't something you're aware of, I used to work at Banana Republic many years ago and we knew about it way back then. Fix it. Come on already.

7. Grocery related math. If you are a grocery store and on the shelf tag you are going to "help" me comparison shop by listing a comparison price, please make sure they are calculated to the same type of unit. For example, if I'm looking at Organic Katsup and one is 32 oz for $3.29 and the other is 28 oz for $2.99, but the comparison price is listed on the first as .1028/oz and the second is listed as $2.99/each, it is useless. More than useless, it is annoying. My math skills are poorly exercised, and this kind of stuff seems really mean-spirited. I like to imagine you are sitting in the back room laughing as you watch me get all frustrated trying to figure out which one is the better deal on your closed circuit TVs. (Ok, maybe I'm a little paranoid).

8. Online stores that have such fantastic prices they don't list them until you put them in your cart. Even worse, online stores that require you to email them for a quote instead of letting me just shop like a normal person. Still worse, online stores that make me send you a contact number so you can call me back for the amazing price quote. In my experience, it just isn't worth talking to you for the extra ten bucks I save.

9. Offices that close at lunchtime. Where do I start. I do most of my calling for appointments and such at lunch. I also try for most of my appointments at lunchtime so I don't have to miss work. If you are in a situation in which you provide services, please don't do this to me. It just pisses me off. I also hate those of you who are closed on Fridays. Come on, it is my least busy day at work. I guess it is for you too, now that I come to think of it.

10. This recent trend of putting bacon in everything. I mean, I get it on some level. I have myself made some seemingly bacon-inappropriate foods (ice cream, vodka), but I don't feel the need to make bacon a 3-meals-a-day type of essential. Especially keep it off my non-meaty foods. I'm what they cleverly call a "pescatarian" and I don't want to have to ask before every food order, "Is there bacon in that?"

11. People who don't laugh at my jokes, because let's face it, I'm hilarious. If you aren't laughing, there is probably something wrong with you. Seriously wrong, dangerously wrong. Please seek help.

What's on your list?

The Wisdom of Our Elders

I'm beginning to understand why the Victorians were so comfortable dosing their babies with laudanum to get some rest. I mean, I'd never do it, but I can understand the motivation. Don't be too quick to judge me. Really, I have two little boys who seem to only require sleep on an occasional basis, and seem to think that going to bed at night is about as fun as slipping into an acid bath. I need to be clear here. I am not looking for advice. I'm just using my blog as a space to complain. If you have helpful advice, feel free to...um, keep it to yourself.

So last night, Mr. Dog had to go back to the lab to finish up an experiment leaving me to put the boys to bed solo. Usually this isn't a big deal, but Little Dog decided to sleep in yesterday. He slept until 11am like some kind of high school student on summer vacation, then just didn't feel tired until far too late. (This will not be happening again. NE has been instructed to roust the little slacker out of bed every morning at a more sane hour.) Once I finally made the boys jammie up, and got them into their room, I thought I'd made the first moves toward slumber. Ha. Two hours of struggle later, I'd successfully ushered Big Dog off to sleepland, but Little Dog was still pulling out all of his best stalling tactics.

"Mama, I need milk!" "Mama, I need rocks" (they'd been playing rocks scissors paper, in case you were wondering.) "Mama, I need to go upstairs!"

I broke. I told him to get into his bed and go to bed. Since he obviously didn't need me, I was going to bed. Goodnight. And I walked out, leaving a very stunned 2.5 year old in my wake.

Mr. Dog came home about that time and managed to wrangle the little monster angel into bed. He finally got him to fall asleep sometime around midnight. Yeah, I did say midnight.

Maybe now you'll understand why I'm beginning to think the Victorians were onto something. Sigh.

I'm calling it quits.

I have to admit defeat. There is no way my NaNoWriMo novel is going to get done this month. I’m wiped out. I have new stuff on my plate at work, holidays to prepare for and just too much life going on around me to sit down and put more words on paper (or in a computer if you’re stickler for accuracy here). Sorry literary world, you’re going to have to wait to be taken by storm. Phew. I actually feel a bit of weight off my shoulders just putting this out there. Don’t get me wrong. I’ll finish this book eventually. When I give it time, I have a good time writing it, but I just don’t have time. I’m thinking I’ll try to complete it by January 30th, at least the first draft. We’ll see how that goes.

I'm going to pass on the potatoes, thanks.

Little dog has been resisting having his diaper changed. He's a busy guy. He'll clearly have a poopy diaper and yet, when asked, he'll deny it. What's more, he'll make up other less direct situations when he is ready to request help.
Little dog: Mama, I have a potato in my diaper!
Me: A potato? I don't think so.
Little dog: Yeah, a potato in my diaper!
Me: Are you poopy?
Little dog: No, I got a potato.
Me: You have a potato in your diaper?
Little dog: No. Not a potato.
Me: Really? No potato?
Little dog: No, I think I have poop in my diaper.
Me: Now that I believe. Want me to change your diaper?
Little dog: Yeah, there's poop in there.
Me: I got that. Let me get a diaper.
Little dog: There's no potato, just poop. (as though making sure I wouldn't be disappointed)

Funny.

These kids of mine, they're funny. Even when they don't mean to be funny, they just are. Need examples? Well here you go. Three examples from this weekend in Portland with my parents.

1. Big Dog came into the room while my sister was showing me her belly dance instructor's debut performance on a DVD.
"What's this?" he asked.
"It's belly dancing," we answered.
"Oh, they call it belly dance because we can see her belly?"

2. At one point in the weekend, my mom brought out a big jar of change and a piggy bank for the boys to play with. After putting the coins in and out of the piggy bank, Little Dog started throwing handfuls of coins up in the air. Out of concern for things being pelted with flying change, I asked him to stop. He didn't, so picked him up and asked him again. His response?
"But mama, it's just a money party!" in an entirely earnest voice.

3. Auntie Kathleen was getting ready to leave, and said goodbye to Big Dog. "Bye bye," he says, "Do you want one of my kisses?"

And there you go, solid evidence of my offspring's cuteness.

I need a little help

I'm tired, a little bit sick and just plain spent. What does this have to do with you? Nothing really. Just a lame attempt to explain why my rapid-fire updates on this blog have slowed down. I'm working on my NaNoWriMo novel, which is also stalled mostly due to lack of effort, and I'm having a really hard time coming up with things to blog about.

What I'm asking is that if you have any suggestions for topics, questions you want answered (and no, they don't have to relate to this blog, I'll wing it) or anything you think I could put up here to keep you all happy until my brain starts working well again, please let me know. I'll do my damnedest to oblige. And, I'm going to up the ante, if you give me a winner, I'll send you a present. No, I don't know what it is, but I promise I'll pick something you'll like.

So, there is my offer. Are you going to take me up on it? Leave me suggestions in the comments. If your profile doesn't have an email associated, or if you just want to email me instead of leaving a comment (though keep in mind, I lurve comments!) you can email me at mommy@mommyneedsalatte.com

Wordless Wednesday! Dress Up Time.

Oh these words of love.

"Mama, do you know that I love you?" Big Dog says sweetly.
"Aw, thanks! I love you too," I reply, my heart swelling with motherly love
"I know!"
"That's such a nice thing to say to someone," I say, hoping to reinforce his kindness.
"Yeah," he says, "To someone I know." he says, making sure I understand the distinction.
Can't say he isn't a smart kid. Or at very least a smart ass.
I love that kid.

Call me ambitious. Or crazy. Your pick.

So this month is going to be a biggie for me. In addition to regularly updating this blog, working full time,trying my damnedest to keep my children healthy alive and nurtured and trying to get back to the gym occasionally, I've decided to take on a new challenge.

November is National Novel Writing Month, as you may or may not know. Some insane writing genius came up with the idea about 10 years ago to catapult would be writers into to becoming writers. Wait, there are no actual catapults involved, just a writing deadline. The challenge is to complete a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. I know, crazy for a full-time full-timer to take on, but I'm going for it. So far I haven't dedicated enough time to it, and I've already scrapped the first idea in favor of my second. And I personally think I have the makings for fun novel project. That said, I'm making my commitment public because I need to keep the pressure on, or I'll end up just dropping it. And that would be bad. If you are interested in getting more information on the project, or donating to NaNoWriMo (who puts that money to use in schools encouraging creative writing), go check out www.NaNoWriMo.com. If I finish, and if I think it is at all worth sharing, I might just do that. But I firmly reserve the right to weasel out of that if I think it is crap.

My Open Letter to America

Dear Fellow Citizens,
First let me say, WOW, great work! I'm truly impressed by your commitment to getting out and voting. And voting with hope and passion, not just letting the politics of old keep on coming. I admit, when the states were called and Obama passed the 270 mark, I cried. Which was quite confusing to the boys. They can't seem to get their heads around the idea that I'm crying because I'm happy. Little Dog even said, "but that doesn't make any sense." And he's right.

For those that made this historic event possible, those Obama voters, organizers and believers, I hate to say it, but our work has just begun. Now that the ballots are counted, we need to make sure we can live up to the hype. And that isn't something we can just sit back and assume will happen on its own. Today I'm calling my representatives and senators and telling them I expect action and what's more I expect cooperation and inclusion. I am committing to be even more vocal in my political involvement and you can bet they'll be hearing from me if they're dicking around.

For those who feel that they lost yesterday, you didn't. Go ahead, take a few days and lick your wounds, feel grumpy and frustrated and then you need to get over it. The message of the Obama campaign was inclusion, and really, I think he means it. But that takes work from you too. Instead of encouraging your elected officials to become more entrenched and obstructive, why not call them and encourage them to play nice and make things work together. Not good enough? Well look around, the past 8 years have landed us here and from where I'm sitting, it kind of sucks for the majority of Americans. Even if you don't like Obama, do you think he could do worse? Be honest.

The future of our country is in our hands. We can make long lasting changes that will create opportunities for our children (and hopefully even their children). We can stop living in a world based on fear and threats, and start moving America back to being a global role model. As a citizen, a worker, a mother, and a woman I can't help but imagine what this can mean.

I'm excited, I'm anxious and I can't wait for January. And for the first time in quite a while I am truly proud to be an American. Way to go.

Sincerely,
Laura

P.S. Wait, I still have a bone to pick with some of you. Prop 8, at this time appears to have passed. If you voted "yes" on institutionalizing your bigotry, you should be ashamed of yourself. Asshats.

The waiting game.

I'm officially a giant bundle of nerves. My stomach is queasy, I'm high strung, shaky and I can't concentrate. I'm pretty sure it isn't the flu. I've done what I can to make things better. I dropped my ballot in the drop box this morning on the way to work, and for good measure I honked a few supportive honks at people on the side of the road with Obama and Gregiore signs. Now I just have to sit back and wait. Not that it will be a passive activity. I'm sure I'll be obsessively checking the polling information on the web. I'll be pacing and biting my nails too, for all the good that does.

In addition to the presidential race, I'll be keeping tabs on California's Proposition 8, a hideous piece of legislation that would make California the first state to overturn a State Supreme Court decision allowing same sex marriage. I'm hoping it fails because I'd hate to see the state I love cling on to this vestige of bigotry.

Tonight, I'm hoping they'll be calling the election early, because I don't know how much of this stress I can take. I'm already exhausted. If you haven't done so already, please go vote. I'd like to be able to say I don't care who you vote for as long as you vote, but this time we have too much to loose. So vote wisely. Vote Obama. Vote No on 8.

Because I can't help myself.