letter to the first lady

dear eve -- 

i've been thinking about you, there in the garden experiencing the same -- if perfect -- day over and over. i wonder if the apple was a premeditated scheme. were you happy to blame the serpent for the fantastic plan you cooked up to get out of the routine? i wonder -- and perhaps this is a bit graphic -- did you have a period? did you wonder exactly how that biological nuisance fit into the plan if you were to stay childlike and childless? did that monthly interruption of perfection give you the insight and courage to do what adam could not: see a life outside the garden? 

were you afraid? when you took a bite of that apple, did it occur to you that adam might let you go and that you would be yes -- as wise as the gods, but still childless and now all alone and cast out. did you rehearse a few ways to present the original ultimatum to adam? whatever you said, it worked. we single girls could take a lesson on convincing a man that comfort and ease don't trump the terrifying unknowns outside the perimeter if you've got a good companion. surely being the only woman put a check in your plus column.  

we're a grateful world that adam took the bait although your curse is with us today. see, despite the eons of time between your shot at mortality and mine, the nature of man (and woman) hasn't changed much. we women are still usually the first to get the itchin' to leave the garden. most every woman that's walked the earth since you, flesh of your flesh, has been cursed to replay your definitive scene in the garden. some of us a few times. only now that scary apple has been replaced with other symbols: a ball and chain, a baby rattle, a diamond ring. millions of pages have been written on how a woman can convince her adam to commit to a new life... did this genesis of relationship stories set the template?  and any tips for a girl without access to forbidden fruit and fielding a handful -- ok a world -- of other females that sometimes can distract even the good adams.

help a sista out,

k

jenna -- this one's for you

so you say you check in on my blog to see what i'm doing, jenna? that must be a disappointment for you. well, no more. welcome to your christmas miracle: a brand new blog post just for you...that says nothing at all. kinda like a toothless abominable snowman, ain't it? (still my favorite christmas movie of ALL time, that "rudolf the red nose reindeer.") and yes. the elf who wants to be a dentist is gay, just like the benevolent lion with wings that rules over the island of the misfit toys. now that island. THERE'S some blog material. i know that island. i might even live there. i wish mormon singles would incorporate some of the honesty those misfit toys oh so easily display. like the train that let's you know upfront he has square not round wheels on his caboose, or the bird who confesses those wings are just window dressing, he swims with the fish. how refreshing would that be? "i'm john, i might appear normal but i'm just looking for the next best thing and will only like you for 2 months tops." or "i'm suzy, well-adjusted on the outside, measuring you against my father on the inside." it would make more efficient dating, is all i'm saying.

but i digress.  merry christmas to you, jenna stott riggs, and also to the thousands of you that visit my blog daily for the frequent updates. and as a little treat, i leave you with this little gift o the season.

after school special

my cousin weston is a sophomore in high school. he got himself in a spot of trouble with a senior -- a good sized senior -- on account of the senior's girlfriend. apparently she was "talking to" weston. apparently "talking to" is a new category of relationship. it's the step after just crushing and before "going together." obviously this senior could not stand for such behavior and so his people scheduled a little conflict resolution with weston's people: after school, under the bleachers. weston missed the appointment. but weston couldn't run forever. the senior caught him when weston was out playing football with some of his fellows.  turns out that senior shouldn't have been so eager for a showdown. and i can tell you this story because some enterprising observer got the whole thing with their iphone and posted it on youtube. nothing's secret people. observe my boy weston -- the one in the blue shorts.

vote the bums out

so... you've seen the front pages, with all those downward trending arrows. all that red ink running down the front page would be our market, our economy, the future of our country. and while i've got a load of moral problems with digging out wall street after their reckless credit spree, it's clear the bail-out matters. stocks around the world rise and fall and banks fail or live to fight another day based on the word from the floor -- not the trading floor of the NYSE, mind you, but the floor of congress. and though our representative government can't pull it together to agree on a plan to salvage the wreck of our economy, they WERE able to agree on $630 billion budget bill yesterday. it was crafted in secret, voted on before anyone could read the 300 + pages and filled with at least $20 billion of pork for pet projects, and more for oil and auto industry subsidies... oh, and almost $500 billion --  a record-breaking outlay -- for the Pentagon for those twin regime-change projects in iraq and afghanistan. i get it. it's an election year and our congress people have to give back for the hefty campaign contributions they've received from big business, and defense, oil and auto give big in election years. but why aren't the little people getting together and teaching our representatives about fiscal responsibility by voting the bums right out of a job?  try balancing YOUR budget on the unemployment line, fella. 

i'm just saying. 

love is a battlefield

or worse, if you believe mai at nail magic in old town. every now and then i get my nails did. i'm not ashamed. not to stereotype, but mostly may nail groomers hail from asian lands, like mai from vietnam.

just after i picked my shade of polish ("bashful blossom" -- a delicate pink that suits my demure personality) i asked mai for a story -- to tell me how she came to be in virginia. i got a profile in courage. mai left vietnam in the late 70's -- a few years after the communists took power. she was just a young woman but she felt the oppressive rule was going to kill her. her parents consented to fund her dream to escape vietnam for the refugee camps in the philippines. they gave her their life savings and entrusted her with her little pre-pubescent sister and mai bid her parents forever farewell.

she shouldn't have survived the five day boat ride. 100 people packed so tightly on a dingy built for 20 that sitting wasn't an option. mai stood for five days -- she thought the heat and smell and bodies packed tightly was going to kill her. and then both god and man took a shot at sinking her. first a massive storm so strong it knocked people overboard and caused the boat to take on water and then a shipful of pirates rammed and boarded their sad little boat, robbing the refugees of everything and kidnapping the young girls. mai's little sister was grabbed up and then somehow left behind with mai. after the pirates, the boat was sinking for real, but just before disaster claimed the ship, a german oil rigger found and saved the pitiful, helpless lot.

if she'd know about the dangers in her path, would mai have embarked on the journey? mai says yes. her risk was worth her shot at independence. freedom = happiness. she was willing to sacrifice and even die for that freedom and she'd do it again if she had to. now that's some love of freedom... a true story of patriotism. happy independence day everybody! revel in your freedom that everyone in the world wants but YOU enjoy!

but... that's not all mai had to say. as i was leaving, she noticed i didn't have a ring -- was i single? yes, mai. yes i am. she said: "make sure you marry man who loves you more. you love him too much, too risky." excuse me? this is coming from "no risk too great" mai? advising for the safe yet infinitely less awesome path? love, she said, shouldn't factor into the marriage decision. "too much worry. what if something happens? what if he no love you? what if he leaves?"

mai. i feel you. there are terrible, devastatingly painful risks associated with really loving someone... and they are more frightening to me than a raging storm on the high seas or being sold into slavery by a philipino pirate. i've both shied from these risks out of pure fright, and also jumped right in and felt anguish when my greatest fears (what if something happens? what if he leaves?) were realized. love isn't for sissies. it requires courage but a different brand than what mai had to summon to leave behind the life she knew for the unknown. it's one thing to die for a cause, afterall, and quite another to live for it. the struggle for a good mutually loving relationship is all about have the courage to surrender some independence, some control of your feelings and destiny, right?

pat benatar was so right. love IS a battlefield. a fight mostly with yourself probably. but, dear mai, i think i want to stay in the battle and not surrender to the safe, neutral zone of no risk, no love. not yet anyway. 

spring in dc is a miracle

it's been a sensory-overloading spring. blue skies, puffy white clouds, blossom laden branches, sweet lilac blooming everywhere and oh... the azaleas. they're my favorite. i got photographic evidence of the best spring ever, but you'll have to wait until my bro-in-law passes along the pictures we took on his uber fancy camera. but for now, here's a pretty shot gary snapped. and the change of template color? it's about spring. plus i heard green is sooo hot right now.

word to my mother

dear mother nature, why do i keep missing your awesome displays of power? all my life, i've wanted to see a tornado... and i missed it by a day. i mighta delayed my trip to guantanamo if only i'd known southern virginia was going to host six twisters monday. but no. you don't work that way. you like to just drop in. in the future, a little notice would be appreciated if you're going to go against your own laws and drop a tornado in hurricane country. 

p.s.  thank you for sparing lives (200 injuries, no fatalities). 

and p.p.s. my cousin isn't too happy about his strip mall (the above picture is the remains of a strip mall my cousin, scott, developed and owns...er...owned).