Spewing Anger Over The Oil Spill

This morning, I saw some DISGUSTING video on Fox News. It was a live shot of the oil that is hemorrhaging from the leaky oil well in the Gulf of Mexico. It is beyond my comprehension that so much of that oily, smelly, noxious, chokingly thick petroleum has been gushing into our beautiful ocean for nearly two months now. How can anyone responsible for this disaster lay their head down on a pillow at night and sleep soundly for 6-8 hours while hundreds of thousands more gallons of killer goo pollute our oceans overnight?

My heart ACHES for all the sea life that has suffocated in that blanket of black death. Last I heard, they were sucking oil out of the lungs of sea turtles.

I love animals and have reverence for the life that is breathed into them, but I have always kept a respectful distance between me and whatever swims out there in the ocean. However, this oil spill has touched a very primal part of my soul, one that wants to take action and hop on the next plane and run down to the scene of the crime to help save these poor sea creatures. Similar to how I would make a mad dash outside brandishing a box of Band-Aids whenever my kids fell off their bikes . . . but on a more global level.

Even the sharks I have pity for, because they never saw this coming. You should at least give your enemies some fair warning before you attack. Remember Pearl Harbor?

I can understand the nature of this accident. But I’m mad as HELL that the problem hasn’t been fixed by now. Every hour that goes by that the oil continues to spew into the ocean, more sea life dies. More turtles choke to death. More dead dolphins wash ashore. More birds from the coastal preserves can’t fly because their wings are encased in petroleum.

This oil spill is their Armageddon, and we at the top of the food chain, the higher intelligence of all species, the ones in charge who have been given the charge to take care of these delicate and sacred creatures and preserve the life around them, WE have failed them miserably.

 

My Favorite Mother's Day Video

Stuff It, Walmart!

Everybody's going "green" these days. It's the new "black" of the marketing world. Hey, I'm all for conservation and sustainability and waste reduction and all that. I am a Native American, after all. But recently, the green movement has collided with my world. In case you haven't heard, Walmart is on a mission to reduce plastic bag use . . . how? By getting rid of them, altogether. That means that customers must either remember to bring their OWN bags to the store or . . . for 15 cents, buy Walmart's blue-clothy, politically correct recyclable bags.

It never fails, every time I go to Walmart, I always forget to bring my own bags. Mostly because my decision to shop there is usually SPONTANEOUS (a key word) and I don't make it a practice to drive around with a stash of empty grocery bags in my car. Do you?

So today I stop by Walmart to pick up a a few odds and ends. And that part is important. Odds and ends, meaning I bought a lot of loose stuff. I get to the checkout and DARN! -- I realized I forgot my bags again. Now, I REFUSE to pay 15 cents apiece for their recyclable bags because I think this whole "going green" thing is a scam by Walmart. I think they got rid of their plastic bags at a huge inconvenience to customers to force us to buy these recyclable bags and thereby create another stream of revenue for the company . . . all in the name of "conservation."

Sure, 15 cents doesn't sound like much, but when you multiply that by, say, five bags -- on the average -- per customer, TIMES the million or so customers that come through that place on a weekly basis, well, that's a helluva new revenue stream, Mr. Sam Walton.

So I told the clerk to wait on the next customer, and I ran out in the rain to my car to fetch the only thing I could think of that would hold these odds and ends that I bought -- a winter blanket, the one thing that I DO drive around with at all times. I ran back into the store, soaking wet by now, laid out the blanket in my cart, threw all my items into it, and then wrapped it up and twisted it like a giant piece of oragami -- praying the whole time that I didn't squoosh the bread.

The really fun part is when you get back to your car and you have to toss all these loose items into your trunk, pretty sure that they're going to roll around in every direction the entire ride home. Good thing I didn't buy any soda, which would have shot fizz into the air when I opened it and which probably would have rolled all over the bread, anyway.

I know everyone is applauding Walmart for "doing the right thing." Some companies are even following suit and have decided to deprive their customers of a means by which to carry their cherished purchases to the car, too. But I want you to know, Mr. Walton, that you have created a great inconvenience to many of your customers. Especially the ones who shop in your hallowed halls spontaneously.

You know, moms, like me, who make the spur-of-the-moment purchases that have made you the very rich man that you are today.

“Sex,” 52 times!

Have you seen the new teen drama on ABC called “The Secret Life of the American Teenager”? It’s attracting quite a throng of teenaged fans – my 16-year-old daughter, included. “Critics are raving about it!” screams the 20-second promo. My teenager makes sure she DVRs it every Monday night, just in case she has too much homework to watch it live.

I had never seen “Secret Life,” but assumed it was about all the normal teen-angst stuff: boys, school, bitchy girls, fashion trends, anxiety over college, that kind of thing. So one night after my daughters were in bed, I decided to watch one of the DVR’d shows.

OH. MY. GAWD!!!

The lead actress is this 16-year-old girl-next-door (with a WEIRD sister) who had a baby with a guy at her school, who happens to now be in love with some other girl who hates the baby momma and creates all kinds of drama.

It's like “Juno” meets “Dallas.”

Then you have all these subplots involving other teenagers who are all trying to get laid in one form or another. It’s a stupid and ridiculous storyline, if you ask me.

Which has me wondering . . . are the writers in Hollywood on strike again? Because I think they replaced REAL writers -- you know, people with an imagination and a gifted facility for words -- with unimaginative idiots who know only three words: sex, condoms and masturbation. Because that’s really all these teen stars ever talk about.

It’s an hour-long show, and when you subtract commercials, there’s probably about 45 minutes of the actual program. Just for grins, I thought I’d count the number of times the word “sex” came up.

Ready for this? I kid you not, the word “sex” was mentioned 52 times in 45 minutes! For all you math dunces, like me, it means that more than once every minute, someone on that show squeezes sex into the conversation somehow.

I mean, really! Is that even remotely realistic? I wonder, when my teenaged daughter is watching this, does she think this is NORMAL? How many times do YOU use the word "sex" in a normal conversation on any given day? Yeah, I know. "Sex sells!" But this is overkill. And believe me, it makes for a VERY BORING hour.

Let me tell you, if this is even the slightest bit representative of what is really going out there in Teen Land, I think we parents should give some serious consideration to sending our teens off to that nice little resort where Tiger Woods has been spending much of his time lately, trying to recover from his own addiction to . . . . SEX!!

There. I said it. Seven times.

Christmas Blues? Think Again.

I wrote this piece a few years ago, but the sentiment has stood the test of time. It's worth another reminder:

This will be the first Christmas EVER without my daughters. When you get divorced and your children are split in two, you know this dreaded day will come eventually. It’s like April 15th in December. Looking back, I’ve been blessed with 12 wonder-filled Christmas mornings, over a decade of giddy dawns. It’s been magical. I’ve had a good run. But this year, it’s my ex’s turn to experience all that.

I’ll miss the little things: The frosted cookies on a plate with a note to Santa; the frenzied, last-minute gift-wrapping; getting up before dawn to wait by the lighted tree, hot tea in hand, camera at the ready; and then that Kodak moment, the look of pure joy, mouths forming perfect ‘O’s’ as my sleepy children get their first look at Santa’s handiwork.

Yes, I’ll be alone on Christmas morning. But woe is NOT me, for I have been given the gift of perspective; an epiphany that, like the symbolism of Christmas itself, has come in the form of a newborn baby. Her name is Emilie. She’s sweet and beautiful…and lying in the intensive care unit at Children’s Hospital of Orange County, tubes as long as she is coming out of her in every direction. Emilie was born with a defect that prompted surgery three days into her fragile life. Her parents – my neighbors – are, understandably, on pins and needles. While the prognosis is good, and there’s every reason to believe that Emilie will wake up Christmas morning in her own home, still . . . I worry. I pray. And I count my blessings.

Certainly, I’ll miss my kids on Christmas morning. But there are much bigger heartaches, one being played out just a few houses over. As divorced parents, we need to look at the overall picture. It really doesn’t matter which custodial parent’s home your children wake up in on December 25. What’s most important is that they are alive, in good health and loved year-round.

So what do I plan to do, all alone, on that calendar day we call “Christmas?” Something I don’t do often enough: RELAX. I’ll sleep in, enjoy a long, uninterrupted cup of tea (what is THAT?) while watching the twinkling lights of my tree and start a new book. I can hardly wait.

About mid-morning, when I know my kids have ripped into all those gifts at their dad’s house, I’ll call to say “Merry Christmas” and let them know a similar scenario awaits their return.

And more than a few times, I will glance through the window, toward my neighbors’ house and try to imagine the joy unfolding as Emilie celebrates her very first Christmas with a family so grateful to have her home.

Christmas is about celebrating the life of children. And thanks to one precious baby, I’ll be singing a different tune this year… “Four calling birds, three French hens, two healthy children and a heart filled with love and gratitude for my bounty year-round.”


Can anyone recommend a good book for Lynn Armitage to read on Christmas morning?

Taco Bell Burritos Shrunk!

Image via Wikipedia

Now that the Tiger Woods scandal is pretty much old news, let's talk about another cheater: Taco Bell! Yep, I bring you another installment of "The Incredible Shrinking Bread Loaf," only this time, we're talking burritos.

Drove through Taco Bell today to feed me and my teen. Lunch in a pinch. Ordered my usual bean burrito, and while it tasted the same -- hot, gooey and delicious -- it looked different, somehow. Upon further examination, I realized that the burrito I have loved for three decades is now SMALLER!

It has shrunk in both length and girth, and I am one unhappy senorita. The beauty of Mexican food is that it is so cheap to make. We're talking tortillas, refried beans and cheese configured a zillion different ways. It's a cheap, winning formula -- for everyone! But I guess someone at corporate headquarters (in Irvine, California, if I'm not mistaken) saw an opportunity to make even more millions by cheating consumers -- their bread and butter all these many years.

I don't mind if something gets smaller, as long as the price shrinks right along with it. That seems fair. But that's not the case, here. The price is still the same, but now we get less burrito.
I'll admit that if it weren't for Taco Bell, a lot of people would go hungry. But while it's still an affordable food choice, it's likely that we won't be as sated with the downsized portion as we were in the good ol' days, which means we may have to buy two burritos, instead of one.

Oh . . . I get it now.

Are Men Capable Of Monogamy?

First off, a BIG thanks to Jouda Mann for his guest post about the Tiger Woods mess. Very interesting take on it, Jouda. You understand men all too well, and I am about to respond to you in my own special way.

Here goes . . . OK, Jouda, and all you other menfolk, I know I'm making a massive generalization here, but guys . . . why can't you be faithful to just ONE woman? Yeah, I know there are women who cheat, too. But if it's such an equal playing field, why aren't they making the headlines right along with you?

This Tiger Woods debacle is just the most recent scandal. Earlier this year, there was Governor Mark Sanford, who admitted to an affair with his Argentinian "soulmate;" and let's not forget David Letterman's very public indiscretions with some of his female staff; in recent years, basketball star Kobe Bryant went to court to defend his philandering ways and presidential contender Jon Edwards cheated on his wife when she had cancer, the creep!; and then there's Sheriff Mike Carona from Orange County, former President Bill Clinton, and on and on. I've lost track of all the rich and famous athletes, entertainers and politicians who have FABULOUS wives and lives, but who have been caught with their pants down, haven't you?

I heard an interesting statistic this morning on FOX News: One in 4.6 men cheat in America. Then the expert wisecracked, "The rest cheat in Europe!" That got the news crew on the set laughing. Funny, but oh-so-TRUE!

What I don't understand is, what EXACTLY do you want from us women, guys? We give you our hearts, our bodies, our trust and our youth; some of us even allow doctors to slice into us to make our boobs bigger and our thighs thinner for you; we build our nests together, share our intelligence and humor and merge our lives with yours; we sometimes put aside our own dreams to help buoy yours; we nourish you, and comfort you and boost your egos and even clean your dirty underwear; and the most bonding and sacred thing of all is that we create LIFE together!

Is that not enough for you?

I understand how men lose all sensibility over beautiful, sexy women. Women get weak in the knees over handsome men, too. But even when men are lucky enough to get beautiful women to marry them -- in Tiger's case, a SUPERMODEL, which is like winning the marital lottery for men -- they eventually seem to lose interest in these goddesses, too.

So it doesn’t seem to be beauty or sexiness you’re after. At least not long-term, which should be a huge relief for all the women out there who are spending wads of cash and undergoing risky surgeries to attract your attention and keep you in their beds. Don’t do it, ladies! You’ll get cheated on eventually, too, especially if you’ve committed yourself to some superficial jerk who places great value in having a sexy bosom by his side.

Personally, I have some serious doubts about whether some men are capable of monogamy. And I'm not alone in my thinking, either. (Read here.) Be honest now, guys. When you stand up at that altar and make a promise to forsake all others and love and cherish only one woman, do you REALLY mean it? Or are you just playing the role that society expects of you?

Perhaps you start out with the best of intentions. Then real life takes over, years go by, stress and responsibilities creep in, passion subsides, you get older, boredom sets in. You miss the great sex. I totally get that. We miss it, too. But I think the difference between men and women is that we believe (perhaps mistakenly) that the emotional and intimate bonds, the life histories, that we have created with our men are stronger than their sexual urges for other partners. They usually are for us women, anyway.

Hey, this is a GIGANTIC topic to discuss and I can’t possibly cover every angle. But I need to know something before I wrap this up. For all you guys who cheat on your wives and significant others, I have an important question for you:

Do you do it for the thrill of the chase or for the chase of the thrill? Think about that for a minute.

Whatever your reason, please do us ALL a favor. If you know in your hearts that you can’t be faithful to one woman, only, FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, don’t marry us! Don’t have babies with us! Instead of saying, “I do,” be honest and say, “I’m sorry. I just can’t. There are too many other women I want to experience.” Think of all the time and heartache and airtime you’ll save everyone.

Or, here’s a more radical idea . . . instead of marrying a woman because she is GORGEOUS (at least in the beginning, until familiarity sets in), how about if you marry for LOVE?? Not lust, but real, true-blue, until-death-do-us-part love? And ladies, the same goes for you. Don’t marry a guy for what he makes, financially (golddigging being a big part of the problem in many cases); marry him for what he is made OF, instead.

I think if more couples married for love and scrutinized their mates for good character -- I mean if they were patient enough to wait to get married until they found partners who, in their eyes, were beautiful on the inside, as well as on the outside -- there would be far fewer public scandals, scorned women and rambling blog posts like this one.

So what do YOU think: Are men capable of monogamy?

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