Road Kill Of Another Kind

Speaking of road kill . . . I have discovered that I am living under martial law in my new town. Cops are EVERYWHERE! Especially everywhere where you don't want them to be, like parked surreptitiously behind trees in the morning when you're driving your kids to school and need to break a few rules of the road to get them to class on time.

I fired off this picture last week. When I first saw this traffic cop, I was in the right lane, coming from the other direction, and when I made the turn, he startled me because there he was all of a sudden, off his bike and hiding behind a tree with his radar gun.

Isn't that entrapment or something?

What I'm ticked about is that these cops are going after moms in mini vans who are maybe driving a few miles over the speed limit. Big whoop! It's not like anyone is really speeding because there are so many cars going to the same place, the same school, there's no room to go very fast. Simple physics.

About a month ago, I was ticketed on this very street for driving only five miles over the limit. FIVE MILES! Down in Orange County, you were driving too SLOWLY if you were driving only five miles over the speed limit.

This highly patrolled, small town is going to take some getting used to for this former Southern Californian who was used to breaking traffic laws and getting away with it.

Here's another shot of the Enforcer. Looks like he's going to fire on me with a real gun for taking this picture, doesn't it?

Another Stressful Day In Southern California

This past weekend, I took a very long drive down to my old stomping ground in Southern California. My daughters had a scheduled visitation with their father and I had some business to take care of. At the top of my "To Do" list was getting my hair done.

Yeah, I know. Seems like a long way to go for a few highlights. But you have to understand . . . I have been going to my stylist for more than 20 years! I’m having a very hard time giving him up for somebody local. He’s like a brother to me, or maybe more like a sister because he’s gay. He’s been with me through my single years, and all those crazy perms and experiments with reds. He did my hair for my wedding. He talked me into getting my first bob. And he made me look good through two pregnancies and one divorce. He's worth the drive.

The whole point of this blog is to share with you a certain perspective I acquired from this 400-plus-mile trip. And that is this: Southern California is a meat grinder! Yeah, yeah, yeah, it’s the entertainment capital of the world. But it was only after I left it and returned for a short weekend did I also discover that it is the STRESS CAPITAL of the world, too.

The minute I came down off the Grapevine and got into the Mulholland Pass, I noticed a distinct physiological change in me. I gripped the steering wheel tighter and I could feel my blood pressure rise. Or maybe it was bile. Most noticeably, I became angry. Really angry. (How did I live like this for so long?) This asshole behind me who was driving a convertible BMW with a pristine-white leather interior was tailgating me so closely, we were practically spooning. I could see him in my rearview mirror gesticulating wildly and pounding his steering wheel as though that would intimidate me into speeding up.

I could hear him thinking, “Hey, You, the Nobody in the Honda! Move the hell over for me, a very important Hollywood type in a fancy car who just had an illicit nooner with my production intern and now I have to make up the time on the freeway to get to the charity auction that my trophy wife is hosting.”

(I lost track of how many stereotypes I just used.)

So I did the only thing a Northern California girl could do . . . . I slowed down. Just slightly. Ha! Take that, Mr. Prematurely Balding.

Once my wheels hit the 405 Freeway, my daughters noticed the change in me immediately. They had just told me days earlier that since we moved up north, I seemed calmer, more happy. My teen even told me that she thought I had become “less strict.” But once I entered the crazy, frantic gravitational pull of Southern California, I became my old self again. And it didn’t make me happy.

Maybe that’s why people in Southern California seem so self-absorbed half the time. It’s not that they really are, it’s just that they are entirely focused on rushing from one place to the next. There’s no time for niceties and common courtesies, because God forbid you should slow down and get trampled by the angry mob.

And if you do slow down it's usually because you're STUCK on a freeway somewhere. They should post road signs that say, "Welcome to Southern Calfiornia. Now turn off your engines because you're not going anywhere!"

Another interesting observation . . . we noticed the thick smog for the first time. When you live down in SoCal as long as we did, it’s not smog. It’s “morning haze.” Well, I can tell you after living up in a smog-free town that boasts fresh air and bright-blue skies, that stuff they’re trying to pass off in SoCal as “haze” is really disgusting, choking air pollution. Don’t be fooled by the lure of the beaches.

What, you say? You want me to say something NICE about my weekend in Orange County? OK . . . the hotel where I stayed was awesome. The Quality Suites at John Wayne Airport. Nothing fancy, just a nice, clean, roomy room at the right price. For $71 a night (which included a Triple A discount), I got a living room with a TV and a separate bedroom with another TV and a king bed. PLUS, a free, cooked-to-order breakfast every morning. Fresh eggs, hot pancakes, coffee, juice, you get the picture.

The only complaint is that on Sunday morning, the line for breakfast snaked way out the door, as everyone had the same idea: to sleep in on Sunday and rush down to breakfast 10 minutes before they closed.

A stressful start to another crazy day in overpopulated – but beautiful! -- Southern California.

The Thriller Is Gone

This morning, some very inconsiderate early-riser jarred me out of my sleep. This person was parked right outside my open window and had the car radio cranked up pretty high. My first reaction after the initial shock of being stunned awake was anger. The sun had just risen and you want to hear birds chirping at that hour, not music blaring from car speakers.

But then I listened, and my anger turned to grief. Then understanding.

The song blasting through my window was “I’ll Be There” by the late Michael Jackson. (My favorite song of his!) Sounds surreal to be saying that, doesn’t it? Yesterday he was alive. Today, Michael Jackson is dead.

The early-morning offender was simply paying his respects. He gets a pass on this one.

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Octomom Gets A Tattoo

Did you hear the EXCITING news?? Nadya Suleman (a.ka. "Octomom") got a tattoo to pay tribute to her eight brand-spanking-new babies.

Forget the Swine Flu outbreak. This is, by far, so much more newsworthy!

I just have one question: While "Mom of the Year" was spending hours at a tattoo parlor, exposing her flesh in a tight shirt and pursing those collagen-infused, sausage lips for the cameras, who was watching her 14 children???? And after a few hours, wouldn't they be pretty damn hungry, ready and waiting for the milk wagon to pull up?

Does it get any more white-trash than this? Someone should call Child Protective Services. Watch the video for yourself here.

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Pay Your Damn Child Support!

In Family Court last week (I was in the area and thought I'd drop by!)

-- a place I have dubbed "The Unhappiest Place On Earth" -- I witnessed a case that disgusted me. This poor woman, who was representing herself because she couldn't afford a lawyer, was begging the judge to give her children back to her. She has a 17-year-old son and a 14-year-old daughter.

Apparently, she was the primary custodial parent all along and is a good, devoted mother. But because her ex-husband, who makes over $200,000/year, hasn't paid her any child support in quite some time, she was evicted from her home and had to move in with her mother. The deadbeat ex-husband then took her to court and got custody of the children because this poor woman didn't have a place of her own where they could all live.

She proved to the judge that she is working two jobs to save up for a down payment on a rental. but still, that wasn't enough to sway him. The judge said that until she could afford a place of her own, the children would remain with the ex-husband and his new wife.

How can this even be considered fair or legal? She is thousands of dollars in debt because her asshole ex-husband hasn't paid court-ordered child support -- mandated by law! -- and because of that, she was evicted and subsequently lost custody of her children. Where is the justice in all this?

She ran out of the courtroom in tears. And the asshole ex-husband followed her out with a smirk on his face. I wanted to shoot him, but they confiscated my firearm down at check-in.

So all I can do is blog about it and send a message out to all the deadbeat dads in the world who are dodging their child support: You may think you're getting away with it now, but it will catch up to you in one way or another. You'll either get your license revoked, your tax check intercepted or if you owe more than $10,000, you could be doing some time in jail, where I hear they really love assholes!

The worst penalty, however, will be the day you have to face your children when they're old enough to know the truth and explain to them why they weren't important enough for you to take care of them.

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Justice Responds!

I sent a complaint to the CEO of Justice (you'll need to read the previous blog to understand this post). It didn't get past the Customer Relations Department, but at least they took the time to acknowledge my complaint and respond. The ball has been smacked back into my court. Here's what they said:


Thank you for contacting Justice in regards to your recent experience. On behalf of Justice, I sincerely apologize for any frustration or inconvenience you may have experienced in this situation. Open communication such as yours encourages us to improve the quality of our business. It is important that your concerns are addressed.

In order to address this situation, I would like to share your feedback with our Regional Sales Office. Please reply with the name of the location in which you were shopping so that I may forward your feedback and concerns to the appropriate area.

Again, thank you for contacting us. I hope that you will be able to shop with us in the future and enjoy future experiences. I look forward to any additional information you can provide.

Sincerely,

Richelle Farmer
Justice Customer Relations

Another Swipe At TPing

Image via Wikipedia
A woman named Emptynester, who responded to my last blog, said she was TP'd and doesn't have children. (So much for my daughter's theory!) She thought the attack on her home was outright malicious vandalism. So it got me thinking: Does the law consider TPing someone's house an act of vandalism?

I went straight to the source and called the local police department. According to the desk sergeant, TPing is "technically not vandalism because it does not damage property." It is merely a disturbance, he says. Egging a house, on the other hand, IS vandalism because it usually forces homeowners to paint a shutter or an outside part of the home where the egg has dried and has to be scraped off.

Not to worry, Homeowners . . . that doesn't mean the little vandals can get away with causing all that mischief. If caught in the act by the police, or if the homeowner knows with 100% certainty who did it, the kids can be cited for a curfew violation (most attacks happen very late at night, well past curfews) and forced to clean the mess up on the spot, so says the same officer in question. Or the homeowner can take it a step further and press charges for trespassing, which could result in a civil suit and the parents getting "wiped out" by a hefty fine.

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Proud Of Pop

Something's been nagging at me all day. It's Veteran's Day, as you all know, and I really didn't pay enough tribute to the veteran in my life -- my own father.

I told you in the previous post that he fought in the Vietnam and Korean Wars. I was a tween then, and going off to war was just my father's job. It's what he did. Some people's fathers work in construction, some are lawyers, some fight fires. My father fought other men. It was his job, and I never understood the importance -- and magnitude -- of it, really. But I do now, all these years later.

This past summer, my daughters and I went to Wisconsin to see our first pow-wow. My father had the privilege of carrying the American flag for our tribe because he is the highest decorated Air Force officer in the Oneida nation. (That's a BIG deal!) He carried the flag stoically, pridefully, and I could see how much he was respected by other veterans. (That's him in the photo.) For the first time ever, I understood that soldiering wasn't just my father's job, it was, and is, his identity. It is the centerpiece of his life. It is his heart.

My father and I don't always see eye to eye. Who am I kidding . . . we fight a lot! I know I don't say this often enough, but I am proud of you, Dad. And I hope you got all the respect you deserved today on your day, Veteran's Day.

Take A Moment

Image by J.H.Gray via Flickr Today is Veteran’s Day. For most parents, this means a day off of work, no school for our kids and for the lucky ones, the tail end of a four-day weekend. Before you motor over to the park with your children or meet a friend for a matinee, give some thought to why you are able to enjoy these wonderful freedoms that we Americans have. Freedoms that look so tantalizing from outside our borders, that more than 20 million illegal immigrants have crossed over them to relish the American way of life, too.

Veteran’s Day is the day to commemorate all those brave soldiers – living and dead -- who have put themselves in the line of fire for us, in every war in America’s history. I come from a long line of warriors, a bloodline which really came in handy during my tumultuous 10-year marriage. (I can laugh about that now!) My great grandfather, an Oneida Indian, fought as a conscript in the Civil War and returned home crippled.

My paternal grandfather is one of the last surviving members of the Lost Battalion, a group of about 547 soldiers who were trapped in the Argonne Forest by German forces and were being slaughtered. When the US forces finally arrived, less than 200 men were left of the 77th division. My grandfather was one of them. He was eventually awarded a purple heart and when he died a natural death many years later, he was buried in Arlington National Cemetery, not too far from the gravesite of President Kennedy.

My own father was an Air Force pilot and navigator who fought in the Korean and Vietnam wars. He flew 18 tours of duty, which included 663 missions. He was awarded three Distinguished Flying Crosses and 18 air medals.

We were lucky – my relatives returned from their wars alive. And I am so grateful for that. Yet so many of our soldiers die on the battlefield, their families never to see them again, just so people they didn’t even know can sleep peacefully at night under the banner of freedom.

Today, take a moment to say “Thank you” to all the sons and daughters who have willingly fought for our country. We owe them our lives.

Ebony And Ivory

Image via Wikipedia

OK, OK, so Obama won the election. Convincingly, I suppose. OK, OK, so it was a slaughter! Whatever, Dad! Clearly, this country is demanding a change, although, as a Republican, it feels more like a revolution today. I am willing to give him a chance. What choice do I have? Who knows? He could be great. He’s young enough, he’s smart enough and he has a phenomenal speech writer. Let’s just pray he surrounds himself with the right people. Rather, the right LEFT people.

I was devastated when the electoral college tally put him over the 270-vote target. But I have to tell you, what did soften my granite heart a bit was when I saw Obama’s family and Biden’s family on stage together after the President-elect’s acceptance speech. White Biden relatives hugging and kissing black Obama relatives. Forty years after the Civil Rights movement, the symbolism was hopeful and uplifting. Blacks and whites visibly uniting, centerstage, to move our country forward.

Whatever comes out of Obama’s presidency, good or bad, having a black President should go a long way in repairing race relations in this country. Hey, it’s a start, anyway. And as a mother, I like knowing that my children will be growing up in a more racially tolerant country.

Oh, if I can just be a little petty for a moment . . . what was up with that black and red disaster of a dress that Michelle Obama was wearing? She may want to borrow some of Sarah Palin's designer suits.

Get out and vote, you McCainiacs!

Image by It's Our City via Flickr
My father is an extremely annoying man. He stirs up controversy and trouble wherever he goes because all he ever talks about is politics. Today, my annoying father will be at the top of his game. He has been waiting, rabidly, for this day all year because he is convinced that there will be a dramatic and righteous change of the guard, that Obama will be victorious and that the radical, right-wing extremists will no longer be in charge. His words, not mine. Simply put, my father hates Republicans. It’s a blind, all-encompassing hatred and needless to say, I am a huge disappointment to him.

I want McCain to win, not because I think he’s the right man for the job. There really is no “right man” this time. But because we don’t know enough about Obama, this junior Senator, this inexperienced politician who came out of left field. And I blame the media for this. They are the target of my rage today.

The media did not do their jobs during this election process, they didn’t ask the right questions of a man who has questionable associations with radicals, they did not dig deep enough into some troubling facts about a man who is poised to be the most powerful figure in the world. Probably because they spent too much of their time publicly eviscerating Sarah Palin, who isn’t even running for the presidency! They criticized her mothering, said she cheated on her husband, claimed she abused her authority as governor of Alaska, minimized her political popularity, devalued her executive experience and demeaned her intelligence. Nothing was safe with Sarah, not even the designer clothes on her back. And why the hell didn’t the media give equal time to bringing Biden down? He really stayed under the radar, didn’t he?

Back to my father. I really don’t want Obama to win today mostly because I will have to listen to dear old dad gloating for the next four years. God Bless Caller I.D.

Taco Bella

Image via Wikipedia I promised that this blog wouldn't be one big rant against society and what's happening to our kids. In keeping with that promise . . . yesterday was a beautiful day. A bella day (I don't really know Italian, but I think that's the right word for "beautiful.") Yes, times are tough. Layoffs are all around us. The stock market is on a frightening downturn. Retirement accounts have been ransacked by trusted financial institutions. The price of laundry detergent is through the roof, which is why my daughters are looking a bit grubby these days. BUT, there was a silver lining yesterday. A ray of hope for four afternoon hours.

Not sure you even knew this, but between 2-6 p.m. yesterday, Taco Bell gave away FREE beef tacos to anybody and everybody who came to one of their zillion locations all over the U.S.! I guess the taco giant was delivering on its promise to give away free tacos if either a Philly or a Blue Ray stole a base in the World Series. (http://mlb.mlb.com/mlb/fan_forum/tacobell/)

So thanks to some big-league stealing, we little-leaguers got to do a little stealing of our own, too. And I hope you cashed in on it! You were limited to one taco per person. But there was no limit to how many Taco Bells you could . . . what was the word I used earlier? . . . ransack. So I hit three of them with my teenager in less than an hour. Call it greed, call it gluttony. I know I was guilty of two of the 7 Deadliest sins. But damnit! It felt good to be getting something for nothing for once!

Yesterday, the world wasn't looking so badly, after all. For one small window in time, We, The People, got free tacos and for once, felt like big enchiladas.