The Climate Reality Project

What if 98 out of 100 doctors said you have a heart problem? What would you do? What if they said that about your baby?

We have an earth problem. Let's do something about it.

Start by watching The Climate Reality Project - 24 hours on Planet Earth.

Here's a local event that seems like a good idea Zocalo in Phoenix. Monday 10/24 at the Heard Museum. 6:30pm

Movie Madness - The Guard

 I love a little Irish humor sprinkled with language and accents and small town folk and a rogue cop and a fancy FBI guy and that Tallahatchie Bridge song - perfect. F---in' go see it!!! The Guard. 

9/11

Like so many other mornings, the phone rang before I was awake. My mother-in-law always figured since she was up, everybody must be up, as she delivered some news that could have easily waited another hour or two. This morning was no different. "A plane hit the World Trade Center." "Uh huh," I mumbled, rolling back over, thinking these things happen. An accident. A guy in a small plane probably had a heart attack. Then I wondered about Amy, working hard in Manhattan, knowing she was fine, but got up anyway to turn on the TV. Chaos. The plane was not small. Then, unbelievably, in real time, a second plane hit the other tower and everything changed. As the day went on, smoke, bodies, tumbling buildings, two more planes, Shana to school, Shawn and I to work, hovering around a rabbit-eared black and white TV somebody ran home to get, I finally spoke to Amy. She saw it happen. She had looked up and watched as the plane flew into the building. Probably a dozen more phone calls that day, first hand account of our worst day, the smell, the taste, the pain in her throat, chest, heart, fear in the voice of one of the strongest people I know as she walked and walked and walked. As I listened to a sister I couldn't help, cried about the thousands that were just killed, watched the images I couldn't process and was led by a President I didn't trust, I understood, somehow, that I, she, we, you, would never be the same.

Renegades

What a bunch of Renegades. Tell us you're selling cheap wine and we'll be there. Friday night Happy Hour down the street as the sun went down - the clam clams, the purple mountain, the cross your fingers job interview, the trip planning - Pinetop, The Farm, NYC, Oregon, Berkeley, the beer cans in the closet, the reel the girl in so you can throw her back out technique, the Team Diva Decolletage, already missing the Octoberfest in September German traveler, the way past seven ships passing in the night, the party bus and the wrap it up ride home.

Write On

Talk about scary stuff. All she said was, "OK, get out a piece of paper" and my heart stopped. I knew it was coming when I signed up for the latest semester, but it happens every time. Sitting around a table with a bunch of strangers, trying to write something that doesn't make me look like a fool. Then she told us to write down our names and make a name tag.

Now that I can do.

The Boys Are Back In Town

It seems to have been a little quieter lately as the D.C. folks took their wonderful five weeks off from their  jobs, jobs that we pay for, jobs that give them security, health care and lots of paid vacay, jobs that they seem to think are meant to take all the loot from the middle class and hand it over to the millionaires, the war contractors (ten years after 9/11), the massive corporations, since those brilliant ideas will lead to more jobs. Except that's not happening. The U.S. economy just fell to fifth place in the world. We were number one in 2007.  Here's a little graph about the state of our debt giving a little reason for the fall.

It's about to get louder. There's a GOP debate tonight. I missed the last one since the Faux News channel at my house has a parental control block on it (something about my blood pressure), but I may tune in.

And, so things don't stay quiet, we've got Obama on tomorrow, back to jobs, Boehner sitting behind, smirking, while his crowd yells and throws things until all hell breaks loose.

Get the ear plugs back out.

Deep Breath

Sweaty since Saturday, clammy, dizzy, tired, weak, hard to breathe, hot, hot, hot, achy, lots of baths, lots of ice water, not much sleep, Advil, Tylenol, Avelox and today, day four, doctor visit for a chest X-ray that says pneumonia and a big bad shot in the butt = Shawn's long holiday weekend.

Oedipus For Kids

Everyone said "do not bring your kids" but I did anyway. It was raunchy. It was inappropriate. It was politically incorrect, but Shana and I cracked up the whole way through Nearly Naked Theatre's Oedipus For Kids as adorable "little" Eddie(pus) made his way through life, meeting interesting characters along the way, learning some bad, bad lessons. HILARIOUS!!!

Bounced

Shana got bounced. It was fun while it lasted, but those Tucson door guarders know one long-haired blonde from the next and caught the poor kid in the act. At least it wasn't the police or Janet Napolitano. Then, instead of just having the goods confiscated, she could have have been the one locked up in a drawer somewhere. Lesson learned.

I hope.

Three and a Half Day Weekend!!!

How about a half day at work - lipstick call at the Z with The Four Musketeers, some Chambord margs and catfish, some Laverne and Shirley to "Pray away the Gay" Bachmann, some eavesdropping on the grey-haired, big-bellied loud mouth - how about the tall, blonde Diva next to me? Would that challenge your sicko 27-and-under-only rule, Bucko? From the left and right wingnuts to proper, non-offensive, book club etiquette to the baddest of the bad girls in high school ending up on Facebook covered in little gold crosses, we covered it all. Took the party to the Phoenix Art Museum, open for free on a finally not so bad outside First Friday. The place was jamming with activity, hip people, music, a great Modern Mexican art exhibit, including this by Diego Rivera

of his take on Toledo, Spain in 1913. I found something to lean on and took a while to absorb that one. Here I am with Shana in February, almost a hundred years later in beautiful Toledo. 

Made it home in time to find cool neighbors sitting on porch enjoying the first under a hundred night in a long time, so after they waved a big glass of wine at me, I joined them as we watched the slumber-partying kids run around, caught up on the latest cul-de-sac gossip and tried to solve all the problems of the world, included being married to carnivores while planning the next vegetarian potluck at my place. Day Two started with ratatouille with recipe from latest read Lunch in Paris. Birthday lunch with Shawn's BFF and new bride at the yummy Persian Room, advice from the old married pros included.  Next up - playing with the little ya ya, home from T-town with Mr. Z.