Championable | Love, parenting, politics.

There are few people in this world who, by applying a fraction of their mental powers, could turn me into a cinder. From a distance. Any distance. Tracy Lynn is one of those people. So, having been tagged with a meme, I can do nothing but comply.

1) What were you doing 10 years ago?
I was two years into owning my own company. It was the dot.com era, and things were hoppin’. I was also hiding pints of vodka in my desk at work and my drawers at home. I was smoking two packs a day. I lived in Brooklyn, NY. Carter was alive. I only had one child.

2) What are five tings on my to-do list for today?
- Call IKEA to have them move the delivery for my new office furniture from 7-11 to 9-1.
- Try and recruit some excellent NYC actionscript coders
- Watch tasteful lesbian pornography
- Secure general liability insurance for the new office.
- Visit the pharmacologist about changing ADHD meds, ’cause Focalin sucks ass.

3) Snacks I enjoy.
Cheese. Oranges. Ice cream sundaes. Raw vegetables. Maggie.

4) Things I would do if I were a billionaire:
First, I’d call my AA Sponsor. Then… I’d add one bedroom and one bathroom to our house. I’d buy a Miata. I’d buy an apartment for my brother-in-law, and pay for my nephew’s college. (My brother is rich enough to pay for my nieces’ college, and even if here wasn’t, he’s too much of a dick to accept the help.) I’d buy a house in Vermont on 5 acres or more of land. I’d buy an apartment in NYC, right on Central Park. Then, I’d sit down really carefully and think about how I can best do good in the world. Oh. I’d also get my own radio show somehow.

5) Three of my bad habits.
- I have a really messy desk.
- I tend to make whatever joke I think of (unless kids are around).
- I sometimes bite my nails. Ick.

6) 5 Places I have lived.
- Highland Park, NJ
- Chappaqua, NY
- New Bunsick, NJ
- Bridgewater, NJ
- Brooklyn, NY

7) 5 jobs I have had.
- Busboy
- Waiter
- Relocation Liaison for AT&T
- Mickey Mouse
- Serial Entrepreneur

5 Bloggers that I want to know more about.
As much as I hate to risk the wrath of Tracy Lynn, I’m gonna stick to my guns and not tag anyone. PLEASE DON’T HURT ME.

Love to all. Even you, the ever-so-tempting mom I ran into.

Maggie and my oldest have been in Vermont since Friday, and are coming back tomorrow. I’m home with my two youngest. I haven’t had any time to post, and barely any time to read my fave blogs.

Single parents, how the hell you do it day after day after day? You’re AMAZING.

Love to all. Even you, the Mom in the pew who wouldn’t let her kid talk before Mass.

I’ve only sent flowers to a client on one occasion. The following is the IM transcript of the explanation for, and result of, that action. I am on the right. My recruiter is on the left.

Love to all. Even you, the kid who ended five consecutive sentences with the word “yo.”

With my brand new, cheaper-because-it’s-not-the-current-model Canon Digital Rebel XT, I discover THIS:

Just what the hell has been going on in my daughter’s dollhouse?

Love to all. Even you, the battling ladies of baggery.

Sometimes, people call my company and say that they are on our website and want to use our services. Then they ask us what we do. It’s a little strange. Also, people use odd constructions like “I found your site on the internet.” As opposed to… finding our site on the street? Normally, this is part of the course of things. Sometimes, though, we get hit with multiple consecutive or concurrent queries of this nature. It can be frustrating and time consuming.

My recruiter came up with an idea, to which I added an extra feature. I am on the right.

Love to all. Even you, the person who faked me out with a pretend CV.

I found this picture last week. Haven’t seen it for a while. It was her first soccer game. And my first as head coach. She was in kindergarten. Her birthday, and my 1st sober anniversary two days later, were both about a week away.

Thank you, God.

Love to all. Even you, the woman who doesn’t want to be here.

I recently had a somewhat strange conversation.

Ostensibly, it was about the 1st amendment and the concept of Separation of church and state (which, although not stated in the amendment, is derived therefrom).  After a while, though, I realized that this person was somehow arguing for a separation between state and morality, which is a whole different kettle of fish.  It’s also absurd.

Here’s how I think things should work:  The people (or their representatives) vote.  They establish laws within the framework of the Constitution.  These laws are then applied equally to all people, regardless of race, gender, sexual orientation, etc.  If they screw up and make a law that’s outside the framework of the Constitution, it gets struck down by the courts.

Here’s three examples:

The people (or their representatives) decide that two-person marriage is good, and should be supported through tax breaks, credits, whatever.  Now, they can’t apply this pairing to specific genders, races, etc., so if marriage is legal, gay marriage is legal. End of issue.

The people vote.  They say that the age of “adulthood” is 18 or 21 or whatever.  All laws for adults must now apply to all people of that age.  I mean, this whole “Have fun fighting in Iraq, but don’t have a beer, kid!” thing is kind of absurd.

The people vote.  They say “Life begins at viability.”  Or a heartbeat.  Or brainwaves. All laws protecting human life must now apply to all living people. This makes abortion illegal unless there’s a threat to the mother’s life, in which case, honestly, I have no idea.

Uh oh.  I just outlawed abortion.  Now what?

See, gay marriage is a no-brainer.  Hell, it’s an ANTI-brainer. If you don’t support it, then you’re not applying the law equally, and you are wrong.  It’s really the easiest issue there is, and one of the few about which I am completely dismissive of arguments “against.”

Personally, I don’t want to legalize drinking for 18 year olds.  So I’d reinstate the draft and have it start at 21.  (Yeah, I just combined two issues. Sue me.)  Put it to a vote, I say:  should there be a draft or not?  At what age?

Abortion. Oh, lord. This is where I become a hypocrite.  I believe that abortion should be a choice.  I really do.  At the same time, I think it’s painful and sad and much worse. The thing is, though, the playing field isn’t even.  Take my church, for instance.  The Roman Catholic Church  is, obviously, completely pro-life.  But they’re also anti-birth control.  We’re not talking RU-486/Plan B here… the Roman Catholic Church is dead set against pre-conception birth control (except for abstinence).

Oh, there’s workarounds.  The Catholic Church teaches all about fertility tracking, which, wink-wink, is a birth control method too, but it’s not birth control to prevent birth, right?  Wink.

The question for me is:  do I want to put this to a vote?  Let the people decide where “protected life” begins?

Roe v. Wade, which is based on a Right to Privacy derived from the Fourteenth Amendments,  would clearly be superceded by a legal declaration of citizenship for the unborn.

I’ve now written myself into a corner.  It’s like I’m the most pro-life pro-choice person ever.  Conflict, conflict.

I can’t end this with a solution.  Not everything is black and white. I’m pro-choice with a guilty conscience.

Love to all. Even you, Justice Blackmun.

I bleed almost constantly. It’s one of my three defining characteristics.

[edit:  this is due to psoriasis.  Stress + nightshades = bleeding.]

Love to all. Even you, guy who wanted a slice of ham.

In case any of you people, you know, want to snap it up or anything.

Love to all. Even you, the guy who claimed to be on the subway for 80 minutes.

I got up yesterday, ran five miles, did a round of light weights.  As with all of my recent runs, I took it pretty easy.

Five hours later, I did it again, only faster.

I’ve had by brother and sister-in-law’s IM in my buddy list for years.  Last week, it turned on.  I didn’t know if it was my sister-in-law or by brother, so, knowing the psychology of my family, I shot over a quick note saying “Hi [brother!]  it’s me… just wanted to say hi and find out if you got my voicemail! Love to all!”  If I had written my SIL’s name, everyone would have assumed I was trying to pull something.  Weird, but true.

Ten minutes later, the IM went offline.

Thing is, I have no idea what kind of insane lies my father has told about me, but since nobody has bothered to ask me about it for the last five years, I guess it doesn’t really matter.

Five years since they’ve seen my kids, and I’ve had enough.

Maggie asks why I’m surprised. How long did my father “banish” his brother?  20 years? How long did he “banish” his mother?  12 years?  What kind of evil crazy shit did he tell me about my relatives?  Any my mother… “To disagree with your father is a betrayal.”

Why would I expect my father to rebalance his faulty psychology after only five years?  It takes a long time to both justify psychotic behavior AND figure out a way to not blame it the personal-you-formerly-thought-was-evil.

The question, is:  why do I want them back?

For the last five years, I’ve tried to think of different ways to approach my parents.  I’ve even tried to make truthful amends, apologizing for my role in things without taking the blame for things I didn’t do (which, by the way, was what my mother ASKED me to do - take the blame for everything - before we stopped speaking).   I’ve offered to fly out there with my son for a visit.  Offered to simply accept my role in things and move on.

I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do.

I was considering flying to Los Angeles for my fifth sober anniversary, calling my parents and saying “Hey, I’m here.  This is the only time I’m going to be here.  Let’s chat.”

But I’m not sure I’m going to to this anymore.

I’m starting to get angry. And it’s justifiable and grownup kind of anger, which, according to the basic text of Alcoholics Anonymous, is the most dangerous kind of all.

Give a mustard-seed-sized amount of justifiable anger to a Borderline like my father, and he’ll build lie after lie after lie upon it.

Give a mustard-seed-sized amount of justifiable anger to an Alcoholic like me, and it grows into resentment, which is the “number one offender,” and the best way to start down the road towards a drink.

And this, my friends, is why I’m going to see a therapist.

Love to all.  Even you, the lady who seemed offended by the pregnant passenger.