On baseball, begrudingly

Posted on May 17, 2012 by kb

I had never sat in the Rockpile before.

So now I can say I’ve done that.

So bummed, my favorite sandals broke last night. Looks like it’s time to invest in some new shoes. Yesterday at work we were having a Birkenstock vs. Keens discussion. They all like the Keens better, but I prefer the Birkenstock look. (My old sandals were from Target. And I’m super upset that they didn’t do a new version of the style this year. Because the same thing happened to the first pair of favorite sandals that I had – same exact style, but older. The thing between the toes goes. And then you don’t have sandals anymore. Just sadness.)

This baseball game was infinitely better than the last one we went to.

Waking up this morning with a mild hangover, I’ve decided that I hate adulthood. I need my 8 hours of sleep now. I need my alone time. I can’t stay up all night, or do shots of whiskey, or dance until dawn (at least not on weekdays). Sometimes I try, and I’m always swiftly reminded why those activities quickly become best left to the young. And by young, I mean people who don’t have to be at work before 9am.

On work, industriously

Posted on May 15, 2012 by kb

Lately, I’ve been on a work high. (And no, it’s not because I’m spending too much time with my highlighters uncapped.)

I’m finally feeling incredibly fulfilled by what I do. The fact that I have my own office doesn’t hurt either, nor does the shoes-optional policy we have here. (!!!! If you know me, you know how much I detest shoes and socks. Barefoot = productivity. Barefoot and in business clothes = I’m taking over the world with my awesomeness.)

I have nothing but incredible respect for my bosses.

My boss – who knew me before he hired me because we played trivia on the same team – was so accommodating of my lack of focus, and it’s mostly because of my very gentle yearly review last year – in which he mentioned that I’m great but that my lack of focus was preventing me from tackling more responsibilities – that I got evaluated for ADHD. Since being diagnosed (and medicated), I’ve noticed that my work productivity has skyrocketed.

He always says “we are not what we do,” and he means it. Family comes first. Yes, work does have to leave the office sometimes, but nothing is so important that everything else must be sacrificed in favor of the bottom line.

They created a position for me, and I’ve ended up picking up responsibilities here and there, creating quite a complex and interesting job description. From writing proposals, scheduling and attending demos, web development, client relations, technical support (but only sometimes) and everything else marketing to changing the toner and handling shipping issues, I’m never bored. And furthermore, as I learn more, I am able to do more. Last week, I got to amend a database design to include specific functionality for a potential client.

It’s not like I’ve not had some misses, as well. Remember last year when I tried to organize a building-wide blood drive? Apparently, I work in a building full of scrooge’s, because no one would donate and I ended up filling the schedule with my family, who were more than happy to donate to save my ass.

(While I realize that the rest of you do all of this all the time, this is relatively new for me. This is my first “real” job – even though I’ve been here for 16 months – and it’s the first time that I’ve really felt like my contribution matters. These are the firsts that I’m never going to have again, and I intend to savor them. So shut up and wipe that smug look off your face. You were 23 once.)

I sincerely hope that they find me as valuable as I find them.

Of course they do, I’m Katie Barry.

About the highlighters – post-ADHD diagnosis, I went from being way too laid back to being way too uptight, particularly about documents. I find that I’m only able to really feel comfortable if I have a printed copy of my proposals that I can highlight as I go – so that I can later go back and reference stuff. I color code them based on whatever categories I decide deserve particular attention.

Ordering office supplies one day, I saw that boxes of highlighters were on sale for $1. So I bought a bunch. Apparently, one of my co-workers and my boss were in the supply room making fun of me for all the highlighters, and wondering why I had purchased so many. You don’t pass up $1 highlighters. psssh.

PS – Swisher comes tomorrow! And I’m 24 on Friday! It’s been such a wild year! Time is flying!

PPS – All of those exclamation marks were absolutely necessary!

On Swisher, anxiously

Posted on May 11, 2012 by kb

His plane touches down next Wednesday. I’ll be at the airport waiting. Last time he flew in was marvelous – he saw me and hugged me and kissed me right at the baggage claim. I was too excited to even think. I was wrapped in a hug when I opened my eyes and saw a grandmother smiling at us. I knew then.

This time is different. This time it’s so much more. This time will be strange because ten days after I pick him up at DIA, he’ll be picking me up from the Midway. Then we’re doing what we’re calling “The Trial Road Trip” which he imagines will be miserable and I imagine will be a wonderful adventure. And then, for the next few months at least, he will be in the same city as me for the first time in two years. I’m thrilled. I’m beyond thrilled. I’m also incredibly nervous and excited.

I think he’s terrified, and if he’s smart, he should be.

On Cute Kids Doing Cuter Things

Posted on May 2, 2012 by kb

Awww, this story is really sweet. Grandma, I’d do the same thing for you!!

The best part about this is that he blames getting lost on not having GPS.

2-Year-Old Noah Joel Rides Toy Bike 3 Miles To See Sick Grandmother In Hamelin, Germany

Posted: 05/ 1/2012 3:31 pm Updated: 05/ 2/2012 2:00 am

A tenacious toddler from Hamelin (Hameln), Germany gave his mother a terrific shock when he bicycled across town by himself to visit his sick grandmother, the Daily Express reports.

Two-year-old Noah Joel’s mother thought he was playing in his room when the tiny toddler gave her the slip.

“He is a very determined, confident little boy. He was worried about his grandmother and wanted to do something about it,” a family friend told the German Herald.

So, with his backpack filled with his favorite candy, Noah hopped on his toy bicycle and set off to see his ailing granny who is in the hospital.

According to a press release by local police, the little guy’s solo journey did not go totally unnoticed. Police said they received several concerned calls claiming that a seemingly lost toddler had been seen criss-crossing the same road several times.

Noah’s frantic mother, having discovered his mysterious disappearance, had also called the police in search of her son.

Police finally intercepted the boy, but not before the tiny tot had covered three miles on his little bike, the German Herald reports.

“He didn’t really know the way to the hospital. But he blamed that on his bike for not being fitted with SAT NAV,” said a police spokesperson,referring to Satellite Navigation.

When police caught up with him, they saw that Noah didn’t even have shoes on, the Daily Express reports.

source: here

On Simon, on the occasion of 80,000

Posted on April 20, 2012 by kb

I drove the long way home yesterday, and to my immense satisfaction, pulled up to my apartment building just as he had hit 80,000 miles.

(I have no idea why it looks like it’s raining in my car.)

At six years old, he’s all grown up. I’ve had him for nearly 50,000 wonderful miles. We go everywhere together, and I imagine that I will keep him until he dies, or until I have kids, or something else gets in my way.

And of course, on this most excellent occasion, Simon found himself in the shop, having an oil change and some transmission issues. A few months ago (six months? nine? I think it was summer but who knows), I was driving down Colorado Blvd when my car freaked out. Now, I’m not one who has any experience in dealing with car problems, so my car jerking and shuddering and jumping all over the place while the D light was blinking was positively terrifying.

I called the Honda dealership. Of course, I should have anticipated their response: “That normally doesn’t happen in a Civic. We normally see that in Odysseys and Pilots.” Alas, they informed that it was a pressure switch in my transmission and that I need to bring my car in. “Can I drive on it for a bit?” I asked. They told me that I could, but I’d probably get terrible gas mileage.

Here we are so many months later. The D light stopped blinking and the never did the shuddering jumping jerking business again, so I never brought it in. But it’s been worrying the back of my brain, as transmission issues do. The gas mileage has remained pretty steady, so no complaints here.

I took the car into my mechanic, who’s basically the best mechanic ever. He calls me to tell me that he doesn’t really feel any loss of power when he drives. I cut in about the D light. “The D light was blinking!? No one told me about that! I’ll call you back!” The phone went dead. He called me back about a half an hour later to tell me that yes, it is a transmission pressure switch error code but it’s also another error code.

But then he tells me not to worry, because it’s not bad enough to deal with. (I love this guy. He’ll let you know what’s urgent and what’s not.) I still need to be super vigilant about my transmission, because at the first sign of trouble, I’m going to need to replace something about the solenoids and the pressure switch, or worse, the whole damn thing.

I’ve got his blessing to keep driving on it and he’s going to give me the name of his transmission people. So, Simon and I shall keep adventuring until it’s time to do some serious surgery. At that point, if it’s the $400 repair, I won’t hesitate, but if it’s the entire transmission, we’ll have to do some serious thinking about whether or not it’s worth it. But for now, I’m still just as excited about him as I was the day that I got him.

I bought Simon when I was 20. It was February 4, 2008 (yeah, I guess that’s weird, but it’s a date I’ll never forget). When I turned the car on for the first time, the odometer read 33,111. I knew right then that I had to have him. (That, and the fact that I spent as much time as I could in my Grandma Mary’s car when I was a kid because she had a digital speedometer. I thought her car was the best ever. And yet, somehow, I’d managed to get a digital speedometer of my own! Luckiest girl ever, I swear.)

Simon at night, with bubbles. Illinois. 2009?

Simon, at dusk. Illinois, Halloween, 2010.

(side note: Old Dave may have been right about the sex appeal [or lack thereof] of Birkenstocks.)

In the four years that I’ve had him, he’s been crushed, crunched, cracked, and spray painted. He’s hit bugs, curbs, rocks, potholes. He’s driven and driven and driven. And I have loved every single minute of it.

Simon in Wisconsin, barely. Winter/Spring 2010.

Simon reflecting in Rocky Mountain National Park, June 2009.

Oh and the best part?

80,000 miles divided by 6 years is 13,333.33 miles per year, on average. It’s just one of those things that was meant to be.

On Chicago, more than happily

Posted on April 17, 2012 by kb

I’ve left so many times, for so many reasons, and every single time, I end up back in Chicago, staring longingly at the lake. It was the lake that brought me there, after all. This weekend was a lot like the weekend that I spent out there in July, but this weekend was so much better.

Last week, when I told my boss that I was headed to Chicago for the weekend, he looked at me and said, “Your flight’s on Sunday night, right?” I paused. “Um….no….Monday morning, actually.” He looked at me and laughed. “I’ll see you on Tuesday,” he said.

(Remember the July trip? Waking up at 6:03 when my flight had taken off at 6:00….the long day spent laying on the couch while I killed time until my Monday night flight, a day of work lost, a terribly abrupt goodbye, the uncertainty of it all.)

Leaving Denver after work on Friday is not the best way to go. But then again, weekends are short – you’ve got to make the best of them. I was almost too tired to be excited, but simultaneously terrified that I wouldn’t make my flight. Of course, i had to stop for gas and ended up giving my dinner to a homeless man.

Sitting in my car, filling Jell-O shot containers full of shampoo and soap, I reminded myself why I do things like this. The work-life balance, but more than that. Life, mostly. The most beautiful life is the one that will never make me wonder what could have been.

The TSA was puzzled by my Jell-O shot shampoo containers. They took the bag out and marveled (my words, not theirs) at it before finally letting it go. This was immediately after I had to take cash out of my bra to get through the body scanner. I believe Charlie Sheen put it best when he said, “Winning.”

I’m a Taurus. I’m a very stubborn woman. He picked me up and I was first-date nervous. (Honestly, we’ve only ever been on about 4 dates, give or take, so it’s not like my nerves are entirely unfounded.) He made me dinner while I wandered to find beer. I interrupted him giving me directions with, “I’ll figure it out,” and ended up walking an extra 4 blocks each way to 7-11 (Chicago 7-11’s are the best – no 3.2% beer there!).

I didn’t mind the walk. I love the city.

Saturday day was him working for a bit and me going to see my friend Anne. Then it was double-date concert night. I’m not a huge fan of dubstep – it sounds like robots dancing to me – but we went and saw Bassnectar at the Congress Theater. It was loud, crowded, and fun. Some girl stepped all over the side of my heel though (until this happened, I wasn’t aware that it was possible to step on the side of a heel, all the way up to the ankle), which has left me bruised and grumpy. His brother and his girlfriend are great! We made brunch on Sunday morning, and I watched Back to the Future for the first time, curled up on the couch under a Cubs blanket.

Not our best picture, but the only one I have!

I felt old for the first time. I know I was not the oldest person at the concert (by far), but I felt somehow removed from the crowd. My dress and sweater made me look like a librarian (no offense, Maddie, just making generalizations) compared to the neon halter tops and short shorts all around me. I don’t do this sort of dancing and I was entirely out of my element. By the end of the concert, I was tired of getting danced into. I was tired of dancing (that so very rarely happens) and I was tired of hearing sounds. I had so much fun, and I adore his brother and his brother’s girlfriend, but I don’t know that I’d be so willing to attend a repeat of that event. I’m glad that he understood.

On Sunday, after a quick visit to his grandparents, we had dinner at his mom’s house. Last July, one too many “princess party drinks” (White Russians) had me doing some pathetic-late-night-love-drunk crying on his porch once we got home. His impression of that incident is nearly accurate and is hilarious – ask him to do it some time. (It’s just like the “I’ll go to DU, I swear” freshman year of college pleading, except two notches less hysterical. Maybe.) This time, I was (quite willingly) banned from drinking any. I would like to insert the fact that I’m also a lot more confident about his communication skills and where we stand, which is conducive to a no-tears environment.

His mom pulled him outside to tell him that I was too skinny before she made me eat second helpings on pasta and finish my giant hamburger. Then she walked me through making cookies from scratch. “Beat the shit out of the butter,” she told me, after I’d failed to beat it quite fluffy enough. “Just set it on high, and walk away. Don’t watch it. Come back in five minutes.” It was terrifying, but so rewarding. I made something!!

I love his family. They’re so much like mine, sort of. Except his is definitely a little bit louder. Imagine four kids instead of me and Mike – it’s like that. It’s loud and chaotic and I feel right at home. His dad’s roommate, who I adore, came to dinner, too. We played Catchphrase, girls against boys, after dinner. The girls won quite soundly. It was the perfect ending to the trip.

This time there were no tears. There was only the promise of “next time” – we’ll spend more time with his grandparents, we’ll cook again with his mom, we’ll get to see each other sooner rather than later.

This time felt good. I don’t know if it will be good forever, but for right now, it’s good, and I’m learning to accept those good things and stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because in time, it will.

This time, we woke up at an ungodly hour and crept through the sleeping city toward the airport. I was too tired to think about crying. He stopped the car in the second lane, using a giant, hulking van as a reason to do it (it is Chicago after all, most things go) and came around and wrapped me in his arms. There were whispers, quick conversation as he got back into the driver’s seat and I grabbed my bags. I shut the door and turned away. I didn’t look back, not even for one last glimpse as he drove away. I never look back. My smooth exit was marred only by the automatic door not working. I walked up to, so close I could have rubbed my nose against it, only to curse quite loudly when it failed to open. The automatic door marked exit was much more accommodating, and soon enough, I was standing in the long line to get through security.

Home sweet home and early for work! It was a very successful Monday morning.

On Easter Weekend, hectically

Posted on April 9, 2012 by kb

Thursday:

Thursday night, Kevin and I went to see the band FUN. at the Ogden.

It was, well, fun. After, we went to the Satire and had a few beers. I love the conversations that you can have with random strangers in bars. I really do. We met a nice guy and chatted about everything and life for the better part of the night.

Since I’m dumping out phone photos, here’s one of my favorite of Carlos last week.

Friday:

Friday night, Mike and I went to the Nuggets game for his birthday. We sat club level, ordered food and beer, and had a great time! I need to go to more basketball games with Mike. I like how he knows so much about each of the players and is more than willing to educate me.

Jacob is working at my work now! He’s temporary and semi-part time. He likes that it’s such a fluid job and I like having some help. Here’s hoping that it continues to work out well for both of us!

Saturday:

Saturday also brought Easter brunch with another of my favorite families. This is one of the best pictures of Aunt Sally, with our small friends. G made us all be quiet at the table and then say “Happy Easter!” all at once. The kids were so happy with the Easter egg hunt that we went to at the local park. All of the kids were excited; it was adorable.

This little guy was the best. He couldn’t have been more than 20 months, and he was so excited to pick up that one egg that he’d selected. He didn’t want to go with the 1-3 year olds, but instead, stopped right there and waited very patiently (if not also very stubbornly) for the 3-6 year old egg hunt to begin.

I had sushi with Heidi on Saturday. It was absolutely delicious. I need to learn how to make my own, I think. (Put it on my bucket list, please.) To think, just a year and a half ago, I wouldn’t eat sushi if you paid me. Now I can’t get enough. But I still won’t eat cooked fish (unless it’s shrimp). It’s all too seafood-y for me.

Since I didn’t end up having to babysit on Saturday night, I spent the better part of the day making some cheesecake-filled Easter eggs from a recipe that I found online. (Last week, I was excited because I had successfully boiled noodles and added sauce to form a pasta dish, so consider this quite an accomplishment. I even made my own whipped cream! Stiff peaks!)

Heidi and I were in the grocery store, googling things like, “what is confectioners sugar?” and “is jam the same as preserves?”. I’m just very glad I have a personality to make up for my lack of housewife-skills (cooking, cleaning, keeping one’s opinions to oneself, etc.)

The housewife comment is more in jest than anything else. (I mean, I really don’t have any housewife skills at all…so that’s still true.) I went to church with my brother, grandmother, and grandfather on Sunday and my grandma expressed shock at some of my requirements for a mate, including intelligence. “Don’t worry too much about that,” she said. “You’re going to get married and have babies and it won’t matter. Find someone who will be a good father.” While I do think that she’s correct about finding someone who will be a good father, and while I would like to get married and have babies, I’m not so sure that I’m going to just abandon my own intellectual and career pursuits. (By the way, there is the possibility of semi-exciting life news coming soon, but not just ready yet. And it’s not another crack at grad school, but it is academia-related. And I swear to you that I will blog about how much I love my job SOON. Because I need to.)

A very messy (and time consuming!) process for making my cheesecake eggs!

My white chocolate-cheesecake-fruit filled Easter eggs.

Sunday:

Easter lilies – they’ve been brightening up my room for the past couple of weeks and I absolutely love them. Too bad we can’t have them all year-round.

My neighbor and I being Easter bunnies! I love her.

My dad gave me back a CD that he found. It was mine back in 2000. We put it in while we were driving back home. Even though the music isn’t exactly art, it brings back memories of awkward junior high dances and TRL (Total Request Live, that show on MTV that was hosted by Carson Daly that everyone loved). Even better, my 12-year old self still knew all the words!

Mostly, I just love the dress. and Carlos, who was none too happy to be posing for pictures.

On Racism and the Windy City

Posted on April 5, 2012 by kb

Chicago is one of those strange places where cultures mingle quite happily but there’s also a prevailing sense of deep separation between different classes and races.

I don’t know the truth about what happened here, but it does seem a little bit fishy. Chicago doesn’t have the best reputation as a city that upholds human rights, particularly when the defendant is black.

(My personal opinion is that the CPD is not actually working to help you as a resident, they’re working to help themselves. I lived in fear of my own precinct for a brief period of time during my senior year of college after reporting the actions of a Sergeant in an attempt to file a simple police report.)

MARY MITCHELL: Chicago has its own Trayvon Martin-like scandal

By MARY MITCHELL mmitchell@suntimes.com April 2, 2012 10:44PM

Howard Morgan was hospitalized in 2005 after allegedly being shot by the Chicago police. | Courtesy ABC7 Chicago

At a time when the shooting in Florida of Trayvon Martin is drawing supporters from across the country, Chicago has its own shooting scandal.

Like the Trayvon case, nothing about the 2005 shooting of Howard Morgan makes sense. Chicago police officers shot Morgan 28 times during an alleged traffic stop. However, it was Morgan who was charged with attempted murder, among other offenses.

But unlike the Trayvon case, Morgan’s wife and supporters have had a difficult time getting the media to pay attention to the case even though it involved a volatile mixture of cops and race.

Morgan is African-American. All of the police officers involved in the shooting are white.

“This man is the only man in the world who was shot 28 times and still alive to tell the truth about what happened,” Rosalind Morgan told me during a telephone interview on Monday. “This is crazy. There’s been a news blackout. I had to go outside to get someone to help.”

After a second trial, Morgan was convicted of attempted murder and is scheduled to be sentenced at 26th and California at 8 a.m. Thursday amid protests that the second trial amounted to double jeopardy.

“He should have been acquitted of the remaining charges,” Rosalind Morgan argued. “His constitutional rights were violated. He did not have a fair trial.”

Occupy Chicago protesters are planning to demonstrate in front of the Cook County Courthouse Thursday, although uniformed police officers are expected to pack the courtroom. Morgan faces up to 80 years in prison.

Morgan, a former Chicago police officer, was working as a policeman for the Burlington Northern Santa Fe Line in 2005 when he was shot 28 times by four white police officers during a traffic stop.

Although the police officers alleged Morgan opened fire when they tried to arrest him, the fusillade of bullets turned Morgan a human sieve and put him in the hospital for seven months.

He was later charged with four counts of attempted murder; three counts of aggravated battery and one count of aggravated discharge of a firearm at a police officer.

Morgan languished in jail until an anonymous donor put up the $2 million bond.

In 2007, a jury acquitted Morgan of aggravated battery and discharging a weapon at a police officer. They deadlocked on attempted murder charges.

Prosecutors retried the case and in January, and a second jury found Morgan guilty on the attempted murder counts. Morgan’s supporters argue that the verdict subjected him to double jeopardy because he was acquitted in the first trial of discharging a weapon.

“It’s just wrong. They want to sweep this under the carpet and don’t want to take the blame,” the wife said.

“All of the young people who were victims of police shootings are dead. They can’t tell their side of the story. Mr. Morgan was shot 28 times — 21 in the back of his body and seven times in the front. The man deserves to be treated fairly,” she said.

This controversial police shooting occurred around the same time the cover was being pulled on police torture and corruption in Chicago.

Yet similar to the public’s initial nonchalance with respect to the Jon Burge torture victims, the Morgan case hasn’t sparked any protests.

“None of the big ministers have gotten involved. Jesse Jackson hasn’t stepped in,” Morgan told me.

I caught up to Jackson in Memphis where he is taking part in observances marking the anniversary of the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. Jackson’s been all over the Trayvon Martin shooting. But he agreed that it has been difficult for the public to sustain outrage over the Morgan shooting.

“When he first got shot, we visited him in the hospital,” Jackson said. “After the first trial, we thought we won the case, but this has gone up and down. We intend to go to court with him on April 5th, and a number of our people intend to be in the courtroom,” he said.

“This [police involved shootings] is pervasive.”

Meanwhile, the Morgans are pursuing a civil suit in federal court against the police officers.

“It’s horrible, but I have to take up the mantle of justice for my husband,” the wife said. “If they can get away with double jeopardy, they can get away with anything.”

Howard Morgan, Black Off-Duty Cop Shot 28 Times By White Chicago Officers, Faces Sentencing

Posted: 04/ 3/2012 1:39 pm Updated: 04/ 4/2012 11:02 am

Howard Morgan.

As much of the country follows the Trayvon Martin case, activists in Chicago are hoping to bring some of that attention to Howard Morgan, a former Chicago police officer who was shot 28 times by white officers — and lived to tell his side of the story.

Morgan was off-duty as a detective for the Burlington Northern Santa Fe railroad when he was pulled over for driving the wrong way on a one-way street on Feb 21, 2005, the Chicago Sun-Times reports. While both police and Morgan agree on that much, what happened next is a mystery.

According to police, Morgan opened fire with his service weapon when officers tried to arrest him, which caused them to shoot him 28 times. His family, however, very much doubts those claims.

“Four white officers and one black Burlington Northern Santa Fe Railroad police man with his weapon on him — around the corner from our home — and he just decided to go crazy? No. That’s ludicrous,” Morgan’s wife, Rosalind Morgan, told the Sun-Times.

She was not the only person to doubt CPD’s side of the story. A Change.org petitionsigned by more than 2,600 people called for all charges against Morgan to be dropped, and now Occupy Chicago is getting involved.

“After being left for dead, he survived and was then charged with attempted murder of the four white officers who brutalized him,” Occupy wrote on their website, adding that Morgan was found not guilty on three counts, including discharging his weapon. The same jury that cleared him of opening fire on the officers, however, deadlocked on a charge of attempted murder — and another jury found him guilty in January.

That jury was not allowed to hear that Morgan had been acquitted of the other charges.

Protesters and Morgan’s family say the second trial amounted to double jeopardy, and claim officers have gone to great lengths to obstruct justice in the case:

Howard Morgan’s van was crushed and destroyed without notice or cause before any forensic investigation could be done….

Howard Morgan was never tested for gun residue to confirm if he even fired a weapon on the morning in question.

The State never produced the actual bullet proof vest worn by one of the officers who claimed to have allegedly taken a shot directly into the vest on the morning in question. The State only produced a replica.

“If they can do this and eliminate double jeopardy and your constitutional rights, then my God, I fear for every Afro-American — whether they be male or female — in this corrupt unjust system,” Morgan’s wife told the Sun-Times.

Howard Morgan will be sentenced Thursday. He faces 80 years in prison.

from www.freehowardmorgan.com :

On Ignorance, blissfully.

Posted on April 4, 2012 by kb

Um, I thought the goal of pro-lifers was to protect life from its conception instead of trying to blow up not only small clusters of cells growing inside of women but other people who may happen to be in the clinic too.

This is why abortion arguments and such make me so incredibly angry. As a society, we have an obligation to protect our people. We have an obligation to speak our minds (not blow up buildings to make a point). We have an obligation to participate actively and engage in politics and all-things government related. Instead, I feel like people jump on the social-issues bandwagon just because their pastor talks about it at church on Sunday. They believe what they feel in their hearts, what they know in their hearts to be the word of God.

Um, hello? I don’t care what your God says. What I care about is the Constitution. What I care about is how we as a society are working together for positive change, forward progress, that whole bit.

We’ve regressed to the point that we’re no longer able to discuss politics in a civilized manner.

We’re no longer intelligent enough to talk politics at all. In my opinion, that’s why we’ve reverted to fighting so desperately for social issues rather than the much larger (and arguably more important) issues of economics that are plaguing our country. We’ve chosen to be ignorant, to place our futures in the hands of Congress and the people pulling their Senator’s strings, the big corporations that are funding campaigns and driving policy decisions. It’s sickening.

We’ve stopped looking past the superficial facade that our candidates present. We’ve stopped caring about anything except their sex scandals and their family lives. Why? What good has it done?

And we – the American people – are blind to it, because we simply haven’t taken the time to learn anything about our own policies. We long ago stopped reading bills. We long ago stopped trying to take an active role in the decisions that our leaders make about our future as a people.

And that’s when everything started to go to hell, pardon the expression.

Stop listening to candidates who talk solely about social and religious issues. Better yet, keep listening, but listen better. Listen to what they’re not saying. And for those of you who vote solely on religion, remind yourself of a few things: Jesus didn’t hate people, Jesus didn’t react violently to people he didn’t like/was afraid, Jesus helped people.

We have to stop hiding from our own fears under blankets of grateful ignorance. They’re making everything worse. Stop worrying about abortion, gay marriage, whether or not the President spent too much time talking about basketball. Start worrying about bigger picture shit, like the fact that we won’t have a government to crucify if we continue along the path we’re on. We’re not a superpower any more. We are not #1. We need a huge slice of humble pie and some reflection about what we’ve done that’s landed us in this nasty situation. (and by nasty situation, I mean the fact that we stand overloaded with debt and war and overwhelming internal discontent and that some of our citizens are even suggesting that we invade yet another country. That’s hilarious, in the worst way.)

Start reading about what’s actually going on in your government. Start trying to understand the policies that we make. Understand our budgets, our structures, our strategies. Give it ten minutes a day. Look deeper than what you see on TV. Look past the sweater vests, the snappy campaign ads, the promises.

Vote according to what you know in your heart to be true, but first, fact check those feelings.

[by the way, violence usually isn’t the answer. To any question. Bombing a Planned Parenthood is sick. I don’t care if they perform abortions there. They do abortions at your local hospital – are you bombing them, too? No. And you wouldn’t. Reminder: 3% of what PP does is abortions (are abortions? subject-verb agreement issue here). 97% is other stuff that’s important. Like STI testing. Like birth control. You may not support abortion, but you shouldn’t try to stop those who do from having them. It’s not your life. Stop interfering. Also, I just love Wisconsin. They’re the home of custardlist.com, Kopp’s, and the Cheese Castle. How could you bomb such a beautiful (if politically contentious) state?]

Wisconsin Planned Parenthood Bombing Draws FBI Vow To Protect Public Access To Abortion Clinics

Posted: 04/ 4/2012 11:54 am Updated: 04/ 4/2012 11:58 am

In the wake of the Planned Parenthood bombing in Grand Chute, Wisc., the Federal Bureau of Investigation has reaffirmed its commitment to protecting women’s access to reproductive health facilities.

Teresa Carlson, special agent-in-charge of the FBI’s Milwaukee office, announced the arrest of 50-year-old Francis Grady for “arson of a building used in interstate commerce” and “intentionally damaging the property of a facility that provides reproductive health services” on Tuesday. She said in a statement, “The FBI will always investigate and bring to justice anyone who resorts to violence as a means to harm, intimidate, or prevent the public’s right to access reproductive health services.”

Around 7:30 p.m. Sunday evening, a bomb was placed on the windowsill of a Grand Chute Planned Parenthood clinic — one of the three Planned Parenthood facilities in the state that offers abortion services. The bomb went off, causing a fire at the clinic that damaged one of the exam rooms. No one was hurt.

Grand Chute law enforcement was able to track down Grady after his white SUV, which was spotted leaving the scene shortly after the bomb went off, was involved in a traffic accident nearby. Grady is scheduled to make his initial appearance in U.S. District Court in Green Bay at 1:30 p.m. Wednesday afternoon.

U.S. Attorney James Santelle, Eastern District of Wisconsin, will be prosecuting Grady. He said in a statement:

“When the Congress passed the Freedom of Access to Clinic Entrances (FACE) Act in 1994, it specifically empowered law enforcement to respond to those who engage in violent and other obstructive behaviors that interfere with access to reproductive services. The complaint that we filed today in federal court not only responds to the particular conduct of Francis Grady in committing arson at and causing damage to the Planned Parenthood Clinic in Grand Chute, but it also signals the continuing, strong commitment of federal, state, and local authorities to ensure access to clinics — and to seek criminal penalties against anyone who would compromise that right.”

source: Huffington Post, regrettably

On the weekend, happily

Posted on April 2, 2012 by kb

I had a lovely weekend.

I feel like I’ve been slowly returning to society for the past couple of weeks. I’ve been reconnecting with old friends and carving out time to make new friends and have adventures. I’ve been quite pleased to discover that I haven’t lost my fun side. I’m also thrilled to report that in spite of being terrified that I’d never make new friends, that was a silly fear.

On Thursday, I saw one of my cousins perform in her school play. They did “The Rockin’ Tale of Snow White,” a darling adaptation of one of my favorite stories. After, I went to meet Jacob at a bar downtown to watch his friend’s band play. (I saw them play last week, and they’re great! But then again, I’m just such a huge fan of keyboards, so I might be a bit biased.)

Friday night was my “do absolutely nothing” night, followed by a busy Saturday full of babysitting (we had our first Kool-Aid stand of the year. The four-year old wanted to sell the cups for 11cents, so the mom told her that for every cup she sold for 10c, she’d throw in an extra penny. It was cute.) laundry, my brother’s birthday dinner, drinks with friends, and dancing at my favorite goth/80s bar.

I had a reverse-gay moment on Saturday. There’s a funny thing that happens: often, when someone is meeting a gay person, they’ll say, “I have a gay friend! You would just love him!” as though they’re matchmaking and as though all gay people are just “going to love” each other. So on Saturday night, I was out with some friends in a mixed-group, and I got really excited to tell the only straight guy there that I had a straight friend who he would just love. I even asked him if he liked baseball. Ha.

Sunday was brunch on the patio at a cute place in Capital Hill (bottomless mimosas, yes, please!), with an afternoon of Cheeseman Park lounging after.

This stick is the “Talking Point.” Jacob and my new friend Ben carry it around with them whenever they lounge in the park. It serves as a sort of marker/flag. We decorated it with plastic flowers (as Ben said, “For $2, you can carry beauty around wherever you go.” He also mentioned that you must have the confidence to pull off carrying around fake flowers, but I think they’re great.) and another stick. I wanted to get more sticks and create a teepee, but unfortunately, large sticks are hard to come by.

I’m so happy that it’s almost summer. There’s nothing I love more than afternoons in the park. (But oh man, sunscreen is so expensive!)

I was all excited to tell you about the lukewarm water week that happened at my apartment, but now I feel like an ass. A couple of weeks ago, a water heater in our apartment building broke and we were left with tepid water for our showers. (And there’s nothing I love more than hot water. I hope they never invent time travel – I’ll refuse to go back past the dawn of reliably hot water.) My landlord assured me that we’d have hot water again as soon as he got the new hot water heater, and sure enough, it’s been wonderful. I was on the phone with him today, and he said, “How’s the hot water, dear?” I was a little embarrassed by my enthusiastic response. But last night, Mike had to watch a documentary for one of his classes about poverty around the world. (I liked it and it’s streaming on Netflix, if you’re interested: The End of Poverty? It’s a good history of globalization/the rise of such severe poverty and it attempts to argue against privatization, although I’m not sure how effective the final argument is.) As I was watching, I was remembering how little hot water we had in South Africa and I feel like an ass for complaining about clean, running, just-not-hot water. I’ll take that over no running water any day.

a mile high and then some…

the space between reality and the rest

Category Archives: adventure