Yellow Dog/Bleeding Heart

When it comes to schoolwork I have always been a major procrastinator, but last week I did something I have never before done. I asked for extensions on three papers. Now this bothers me a lot because now I am not only procrastinating, but I'm procrastinating with a deficit. So I cleared last night's schedule and planned on catching up. Here's how the night went: 6:18 Arrive home from work. 6:31 Little Dog specifically requests homemade potato soup for dinner. Tell him I have mucho school work to do and suggest that he make himself nachos or a sandwich. He reminds me that is what he has done for the past two days and ups his soup request to fajitas. I glance at his skinny torso and mother guilt sets in, so I give in before he ups the ante to an actual meat and potatoes meal. 6:35 Peel potatoes and dice onions in the kitchen while listening to NPR. 6:50 Put the potatoes on to boil and head upstairs to take a shower, pausing first to load the dryer and start the washer. Op...

Apparently if you have enough money you are allowed to be batshit crazy. ( Like this! ) You can be a proponent for the drinking of blood and then get appointed as a UN ambassador – which then gives you a kind of “Gold Card” status when shopping for cute foreign babies. You can jump on The Oprah’s couch and shoot lasers out of your hands. You can claim parentage to the toupee wearing Asian adopted baby of a fellow actor and even give it a dumbshit name You can also creep around in Spiderman masks and cover your kids with blankets – hell, you can even name them "Blanket" and dangle them from balconies. You can host your own television show, go to jail for committing a felony and still be America’s idea of a perfect hostess But if you want to divorce a man who is addicted to coke and whoring around and who smacked you when you pointed out this was not good behaviour…well, then you need mandatory counseling to end the marriage. If you choose not to continue a pregnancy when you’...

I recently ran into an friend from college. We had engaged in many hearty political debates back in the days of Sysops and bulletin boards. I was always the go-to girl when it came to interpreting the current polls. He asked about my net presence these days and I directed him to this site. A few days later I got an e-mail from him in which he accused me of losing my mind - literally . He says my mind is gone. He accused me of contributing nothing but "fluff" and "musings on banality." Uh.. Okay, I have not held myself out as a political expert since the 2000 election. Why? I. Got. Busy. Yes, that is right, busy. The more mobile and social Little Dog became the less time I had. And let me tell you people: Being politically informed takes A LOT of time. I no longer have the time to be outraged. Or even to be idealistic. I barely have time to keep the laundry done - much less keep up a laundry list of activities on The Hill. I no longer have any idea what bills are in ...

What was I thinking going back to school? Was being a single mom with a full time job and a part time business not enough? Am I a masochist? I really have given up on the whole law school idea. I have accepted that, it 42, it is a little late for a law career. So what? Do I need a Master’s degree? Was my claim to fame as an English major not good enough for me? Apparently not, because after over a decade out of the classroom I have enrolled in 15 hours this semester. This all started when one of our summer clerks asked me what my degree was in. After I explained that my Major was English Literature, my Minor was Sociology and that I also pursued a certificate in “Women’s Studies” it hit me. I had majored in “hippie.” Yup, not a marketable tool in the whole mix there, but I was great at organizing a protest and I can write a kick ass letter. Do npt get me wrong. I am proud of my background in literature and I worked hard in that program. I just recognize the marketplace worth of an Engl...

So I am becoming obsessed with the traffic cams appearing on top of stop lights all over my city. Really obsessed . They actually kind of freak me out. I keep expecting to find wads of pink tickets in my mailbox. See, I have this habit of running lights. Because of these cameras, I have become aware of how often I do this. Now, each time I have to wonder, “Was that appropriate? Did it change after I entered the intersection? Did I get by with it?!” It is the not knowing that kills me I am also becoming obsessed with the Tom Cruise baby theories being floated around. I have no real vested interest in the parentage of baby Suri , but I am riveted nonetheless. I just love it when a good conspiracy theory is presented. And you have to agree, Tom Cruise is one freaky mo' fo '. Mail. People, it is an incredible thing to place a piece of paper in an envelope, write few words on the front and have it magically be PHYSICALLY delivered into the hands if its intended recipient. This magic...

"Mom, I need a cell phone?" "Do you have a thriving medical practice I am unaware of?" "What are you talking about? No." "Well, I just wondered if you "needed" this cell phone because your patients were complaining they couldn't reach you." "Mom," eye roll, "Be serious." "I am being quite serious. You're thirteen. Why on earth do you "need" a cell phone?" "What if you need to get a hold of me?" "Considering that 50% of the time you are WITH ME, 25% of the time you are in school and the other 25% of the time you are asleep I don't foresee a problem." "But what if I am at a friend's and they don't have a phone?" "You have friends in third world countries?!" "Mom! You're not being fair!" "You're right. I'm sorry." "So you're gonna get me a cell phone?" "No, I'm sorry to have raised you ...

Words are worth exactly the thought and the sentiment put into them. I’m not sure if it is because I was an English Major or because etymology is my hobby or even because I think the art of rhetoric is fascinating. I am just not hung up on the individual words themselves. I generally say exactly what I mean and mean exactly what I say. It’s all about context. This is why Chris Rock can call Kanye West a " niggah " but George Bush can't. This is also why I have never had a problem with Little Dog using words which many (or most) consider to be inappropriate. He can say shit, damn, piss, and even fuck. I truly do not care. I do, however, care about words and phrases like: “Shut up!” or “Hate” or “Retarded.” I mean, words can hurt, and the damage can extend further than to just the person you are saying them to. Using certain words can perpetuate stereotypes; dissuade compassion and even waste energy. Have you ever though of the energy it takes to “hate?” Yup. Hate is a mig...