Slim Jim

Can anyone tell me why Slim Jim is the only consumable product in the whole country--or even outside it--that doesn't have to include nutritional content information on the wrapper? Not only that but I defy you to find out the nutritional content on their website.

I did manage to find the nutritional information on the web via a blogger on lowcarbfreedom.com who was ranting about not being able to find it either.

You'd think the makers of Slim Jim would want to market to all the low-carb enthusiasts out there. Low calories, only like 1 carb--even sort of low fat. Weirdly it has 0g fiber, which I find odd since when you eat it you'd swear one of the main ingredients has to be paper because you can feel those little fibers in your mouth.

I just don't understand why any other thing even remotely considered to be digestible--gum, tic-tacs, even toothpaste--has its nutritional content information somehow printed on the label, no matter how impossibly small it may be, yet the makers of Slim Jim have apparently opted out of complying with the law that says you have to include that stuff on the label. I just don't get it--wouldn't you think that the FDA would force them to start labeling it? And take it off the market until they complied?

thirtysomething--is that you?

In the trailers, HBO's new show Tell Me You Love Me looked--at least to me--like a modernized remake of the awesome mid-80s show, thirtysomething. I loved that show and couldn't wait to see this new apparent rip-off of the classic yuppie sitcom.

Last Sunday, the night it premiered, I tried to get the kids to bed before 9 but ended up missing the first 15 minutes. I sat down at 9:15 and turned the TV on. There, on Patrick's 53" TV, was a girl shimmying out of her jeans, revealing more than a glimpse of her...uh, landing strip.

Huh? I checked the channel to see how I managed to set the DVR for some porn channel, but it was tuned to HBO and to the correct show. Surprised, I kept watching... and there went her shirt, then the guys pants then--yikes--a full view of the guy's balls.

WTF? Where was thirtysomething? Ok, then it cut to the next scene--I think it was a couple in a therapists office talking their struggles with infertility. Ok, that's more like it, I thought. Then they're sitting at the dinner table at the guy's parents house and they both get up and go into another room to laugh and bond over how horrible the mother-in-law is...and next thing you know, there's another patch of pubic hair and a boob and the guy's actual dick!

Maybe I'm remembering the sequence wrong, but what I do remember from that episode are: at least two scenes featuring girls' naked crotches, at least two sightings of a pretty realistic simulation of penetration, a few sets of balls, and, if I'm not mistaken, a guy actually ejaculating. Oh, and I forgot--a blow job and/or a hand job and a guy jerking off. And woven in between the sex scenes, a distinctly thirtysomething-ish storyline.

All in all, the show is good and the characters are interesting and likable, but what's up with the very gratuitous--and frequent--sex scenes? Don't get me wrong--I'm going to keep watching it--but I could do with less pubic hair and ball sightings and more thirtysomething-ish coffee talk scenes.

So I check my email this morning and in the "subject" column is this:

Augusten's Assistant

Had Augusten been obsessing over me since I emailed him and was now having his assistant email me to tell me he just HAD to meet me? Or was it someone who reads this blog writing to tell me something about Augusten's assistant?

This was the email:

Hi lovely folks,

It's Stewart, Augusten's assistant, and I wanted to (humbly) let you know about my debut novel that was recently published, ROCKSTARLET. It's a dishy, hollywood tale about a closeted rockstar, and based on your emails, I've chosen the people i think would enjoy...

How psyched am I that I am apparently in Augusten's assistant's address book? (or then again, it could be because I'm on the mailing list for Augusten's website? Surely not--remember my email conversation with him a few weeks ago?)

So skip the books I recommended yesterday and go buy this and we will discuss.

Wah!

Can you tell my husband (of all of 3 weeks) is out of the country by how much I'm posting? It sucks!

This cheered me up slightly. As did this.

Apologies to Augusten, who is still my soulmate, but there is actually one person I am more obsessed with than him: this guy. Sadly, I don't know his name--is it Maddox? All I know is that I swear to god his site is the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life. Is it just me or are "Crappy child's art" #1 and #2 legendary for their humor value? I can still remember the first time I saw those pages and how I laughed harder than I ever laughed in my life--and that was at least 5 years ago and I still laugh just as hard every time I see them.

Anyway, I defy you to go to read this and not choke half to death from laughing so hard.

Documentaries

I don't know why but I'm a big fan of documentaries. I am beyond ignorant when it comes to anything related to politics, history, geography or economics, but for whatever reason I am all about documentaries about politics or economics (not so much history or geography...).

A few months ago I raved about Sicko and have since been up in arms about the health insurance system. It's the kind of thing I can't really think about too much because it just makes me so mad it ends up depressing me because it's such a lost cause--I don't even waste time trying to dispute the fact that my health insurance inexplicably denied payment for the exact same routine doctor visit that they have faithfully covered the other three times I've gone. After seeing that movie it just seems futile to waste time trying to plead my case--all to get them to count the full $120 out-of-pocket towards my $500 out-of-pocket per year limit. Even though it costs $120 out of my pocket, somehow they only will count $53 as my out-of-pocket expense. So I'm paying $100 a month to have the luxury of being able to go to "out of network" doctors--a privilege almost non-existent in these days of managed healthcare--yet before they will cover any of these out of network doctor visits I have to shell out an additional $500 per calendar year. Except now it turns out that the $500 limit isn't what actually comes out of my pocket; it's what they THINK should be coming out of my pocket. So even though I'm out $120, they only count it as $53. So basically, the $500 out of pocket limit becomes $1,200 a year for the insurance premium, then $500 THEN another who knows how much--at least double that--in out of pocket expenses that they consider to be outrageous or whatever.

So, as it's turning out, I can go on the much cheaper (half the cost per month) HMO insurance which covers the same as my current plan except no out of network benefits, and just pay the visits myself as I'm already doing, and I'd come out $50 richer every month. Anyway, I digress....I hadn't really thought of it that way until just now.

ANYWAY...back to today's documentary: Maxed Out. It's about the whole credit card debt crisis in this country. For some inexplicable reason I am fixated on the whole subject of debt and American excess. Don't ask me why because, as I said, I know nothing about economics or business; the main thing I know about money is how to spend (hence, I guess, the quest to keep my finances in line with horror stories of others' financial ruin). At any rate (no pun intended!), any news item, book or movie about anything having to do with crazy debt intrigues me.

Since I went off on that health insurance tangent I have now lost my train of thought about Maxed Out, but maybe that fact says it all about this movie: it wasn't that memorable. It was ok and I'm a big fan of Elizabeth Warren, a Harvard law professor who writes about financial issues. Actually, I am only a fan in principal, seeing as I have yet to actually read one of her books, although I have read excerpts from them in other favorite books like The Feminine Mistake by Leslie Bennetts. (like I said, I have for some reason become totally fixated on the subject of money, especially as it pertains to women and, in particular, women with children.)

ANYWAY, I clearly can't keep a straight train of thought here but I would say yes, you should see Maxed Out then read The Feminine Mistake and all of Elizabeth Warren's books, then we can discuss.

AugustenB

How psyched was I to open my gmail inbox and see an email from "AugustenB"?! I had emailed my new obsession, Augusten Burroughs, to tell him how great I think he is and also to ask him how he deals with the inevitable criticism that is inherent in any writer's line of work, let alone a memoirist's. I asked if he ever used to worry about it and, if so, how he overcame it. I never expected to hear back from him--although of course my fantasy was that he would read my email and realize we are psychic twins separated at birth and we would become best friends. The same fantasy I used to have about Oprah until I met her and realized we were not actually soulmates.

So I open my inbox the other day and gasped when I saw "AugustenB" in the "From" column. My fantasy had come true and Augusten had actually written me back! Ok, so the email was actually from his assistant, but still, isn't an email from Augusten's personal assistant almost as good as an email from Augusten himself? Here is what is said:

maggie-
first off, thanks for writing. i know augusten appreciates it.
i can't speak directly for him, but i do know that you can NEVER be a memoirist if you care what people think! augusten had a NEED to write about his life, and if he worried about what people were going to think, the writing would be stifled, and probably a lot less successful.
hope this helps and that you possibly get to meet augusten next year when he tours with his new book.
cheers,
stewart (augusten's assistant)

I love it how he says that Augusten had a NEED to write about his life and couldn't be bothered with what people might say about him or his writing. That is exactly why I am obsessed with him--first of all, because it is very evident in his writing that he had a "need" to write it and that need is what makes him such a magnificent writer. Secondly, I am obsessed with him because I love it that he doesn't give a shit what anyone thinks about him, his life, his writing, etc--in spite of any negatives he is the one who, in the end, is a NYT best-selling author, sought-after speaker at various ivy-league colleges and just an overall genius and cultural icon. He is the embodiment of my life philosophy; namely, just wish for something hard enough and it will come true and no need to conform to "requirements" like advanced degrees or abiding by sociatal norms about what's ok to talk about and what's not.

Anyway, you can bet your ASS I will be meeting him next year when he tours with his new book.

Well that was fun yesterday—the first non-business thing I’ve ever had “published.” Or at least since college and a letter to the editor of Allure once. I don’t know how people who have real blogs like Leslie Morgan Steiner think of stuff to write about every day. I am trying to get used to writing in here more and it’s a struggle to think of what to write about—and nobody’s even reading this. To have hundreds (thousands?) of people reading my blog every day—I think I’d be a nervous wreck at all times worrying that I wouldn’t have anything to say/write about.

So last night I was skimming through all the comments on my post, marveling that so many people had read it and that it had spurred such conversation. I am not vain enough to think that my post was so special that it magically drew all those readers and inspired them to spar with each other; I know those same people read every day’s entry and then have cyber conversations via the comments section. But at any rate, it was interesting and gratifying to read the comments, especially the compliments about my writing.

I was caught off guard when, in the midst of all the serious comments—people sharing their own experiences with divorce, talking about that book, The Unexpected Legacy of Divorce (which, incidentally, was one of the books I was talking about when I said I’d poured over countless books...that particular book was one that made me keep trying to make it work for as long as I did), and generally talking amongst themselves…someone suddenly said “Not for nothing but Maggie’s kind of hot.” WTF? I sure hadn’t expected that one…but of course the preener in me was flattered. They went on to say I looked like a former cheerleader—which I suppose was supposed to have been an insult but I took as a compliment, never having been anything close to a cheerleader. Ever. The closest I ever came was trying out for Pom-Poms in 7th grade at the urging of an outgoing friend—I was painfully self-conscious and probably looked at the floor the whole time, beet-red, while I messed up the moves to Earth, Wind and Fire’s “Do you Remember?” (are you impressed that I remember what song it was?!). I remember them telling us that we couldn’t wear makeup and being horrified because, at the age of 12, I was still constantly mistaken for a boy and, as a result, wore as much makeup as a 12 year-old could get away with.

At any rate, it was sort of jarring to have the comments about my blog post turn, momentarily, to what I looked like. I guess the feminist and intellectual in me was supposed to be totally offended and outraged--here I am, my big moment in the sun, my writing skills being showcased in however minor a way, and people start talking about how I look? Of course I mostly do feel like that....but then the other, dumb-(bottle) blonde in me is like "hey now!" and batting my eyelashes about the comments.

It was funny, though--and look--it gave me something to write about.

Wow--who knew that there was so much pent up (or maybe not pent up? Maybe these people go through life, hands clenched and jaw muscles coiled, just waiting for the next idiot to speak up so they can start the verbal attack?) rage out there! I didn't realize my piece for Washingtonpost.com was a hunk of meat being thrown to an angry mob poised to rip me personally. Um, I don't recall, in the piece, asking whether or not people thought I did the right thing--I was not looking for sympathy or confirmation that I did the right thing by leaving. I was throwing out the question is a mom who stays for the kids a better mom.

Regardless--I guess I shouldn't be surprised--just drive around town for a day and enjoy these same people behind the wheel in their cars. If reading a blog entry about some anonymous woman's divorce sets them off so much, just imagine how tolerant they are of the slow car in front of them or the person who refuses to crash a light.

I personally can barely string together thoughts, let alone words, this early in the morning.

Yoo hoo--if anyone is reading this, please consider donating to Kicking for Kids Who Can't--a fundraiser for the Limbs for Life Foundation.

How many of us take for granted the fact that our kids can run and swim and climb? I know I'm definitely guilty of this, and feel it's the least I can do to support a cause that helps kids who aren't as fortunate as mine.

Click here to donate

Now back to our regularly scheduled program...

Aw! How cute are we? ;)

I so need to move to Japan.

Conversation with a "neighbor" this morning. (I have lived in my townhouse for about a year and maybe spoken to this woman five times this year, the first time being when I moved in and told her I was recently divorced.)

She was on the sidewalk with her little boy, who was riding his bike. She lives three townhouses over from me. I had just pulled up in front of my house and gotten out of my car. We greeted each other and made small talk for a minute then I told her I am getting married and am in the process of moving out.

Her (look of shock and horror on her face): Wow, didn't you just get divorced
not even a year ago?

Me: Well, yes, but we were separated for a long
time before that.

Her: But still, I mean, you didn't even live here a
year. Wow, that's really fast.

Me (shrugging because I have no real
answer to rude comments from virtual strangers): Yeah, well, that's just life I
guess. So I'm moving out.

Her: When is the wedding?

Me: Tuesday.
We're going to Vegas.

Her (eyes widening more and look of disgust on her
face intensifying): Oh my god--wow--that's fast! Well, I mean it is your SECOND
wedding anyway. (referring to Vegas).

Me: Yep, that's right, we didn't
want to have a big wedding or anything. We were originally going to have a
wedding with just family.....(then I proceeded with my defensive/apologetic
ramble about how we were going to have a wedding, then blah, blah, blah we ended
up deciding to just go to Vegas. I somehow feel the need to go into expansive
detail when anyone asks, regardless of my relationship with that person.)

Her: Yeah, I guess so, since it's your second wedding and all. But of
course your kids are coming and your daughter is going to be the flower girl,
right?

Me: Oh yeah, of course! (in actuality my kids will be on vacation
with their dad and not at the wedding at all. We made this decision after lots
of conversation, consultation with shrink, etc.....there I go with the
defensiveness again.)

Her: Well, congratulations, I guess!

I think this was the most uncomfortable, most intrusive and rude response I've gotten so far, but many others aren't too far off this mark. Apparently everyone is an expert not only in my life over the past 15 years and every detail of my former marriage, but also my kid's emotional states, thought processes and overall mental health and well-being. And from this information they are, of course, more qualified than I am to decide what's best for me, my kids, and the course of my life.

What is wrong with people that they feel absolutely no shame or hesitation about expressing their opinions on my personal life? I mean, I know gossip is gossip and I don't really care what is said about me behind my back, but to look me in the eye and chastise me as if each one of them is a better parent and better person than I am, and of course better qualified to make decisions about my life--what's up with that? Is it because I open myself up to their criticism by trying to defend my decisions?

Well, anyway, we'll be sure to drink a toast to all the haters. Here's to your perfect lives and perfect parenting--and the lessons of tolerance and acceptance you're teaching your kids.

I've been hunting for the .wav file of Long Duck Dong in Sixteen Candles saying "We getting MALLIED" but am striking out. So, assuming you've seen the movie and know what I'm talking about, say it in your mind as you read this: We getting mallied!

Yes, I am getting married on Tuesday. For the second time, in case you don't already know that. We're going to Vegas, just the two of us, and getting married in our hotel room. I am so excited--for whatever reason, the concept of getting married in our room just seems very cool to me....and of course mostly excited because as of this time next week I will be married to the person I still can't believe I was lucky enough to find in this lifetime.

I was about to say the person I wish I had married the first time, but that's not entirely what I mean. Of course I do wish I had met Patrick years and years ago and that we could have had kids together, but then again, maybe part of what makes us so perfect together and makes me treasure what we have was my first--bad, wrong and broken--marriage.

At any rate, here's to finding true love and happiness and being lucky enough to experience both. Don't ever let anyone tell you that it doesn't exist or that you shouldn't even bother looking--they're wrong.

Sorry for the trend of posts starting with "I just (insert "read" or "saw") some book or movie--or maybe it was just a trend of one post? At any rate, this blog has become my official book group/coffee date with a human friend/interactive format of any sort because, frankly....well, the only topics of discussion with IRL friends (congratulate yourself if you don't know that term because it means you haven't spent the last 10+ years having cyber friends as your main peer group) are various and sundry bits of gossip. Actually lately the gossip has been quite entertaining and unbelievably tawdry for the burbs, but I digress.

At any rate, I just read Augusten Burroughs Possible Side Effects and am utterly captivated by him. I highly, HIGHLY recommend this book--I personally am totally obsessed with Augusten Burroughs.

Anyway, I recommend everyone immediately read all of Augusten Burroughs books--I'm going to--and "we" (I think that means basically me and Cassie) can have our own book club. I read Running with Scissors a long time ago but am now going to re-read and see the movie. I am just in awe of him--his writing style, his outlook on life, the fact that he shares my same life philosophy--namely, sit back and just wait for success to find you and it will. Well, it did for him, at least.

One of my favorite essays in the book is about him being asked to speak at different ivy-league schools despite the fact that he doesn't have so much as a high-school education himself. I LOVE that he managed to bypass one of the assumed requirements for success in this world, especially in any creative or in any way scholarly field--an advanced degree. I myself vowed after college never to set foot in another classroom and like to think that it won't hold me back in any way-- and his book gives me hope.

Anyway, how's that for a forced 7 am ramble, now that I've vowed to carve out time to write so I can become the next,--female--Augusten Burroughs?

So please go enjoy this book and let me know what you think (addressing my non-existent book club members)!

I just saw Sicko and I swear to god, if I didn't have kids and a fiancee, I'd be packing a bag and moving to France or London right now. Ok, let me backpedal and preface this by saying that a) I am the most lenient movie critic around and am notorious for giving rave reviews for basically every movie I see and b) I am completely gullible when it comes to Michael Moore and basically don't question anything he says.

I'm usually not one for buying into propaganda, or what I believe to be propaganda, but I have to say that I totally buy everything he brings to light in this movie. I am just dumbfounded and, frankly, depressed, that we can live in the purported best, wealthiest country in the world yet the healthcare system is so horrific.

If you haven't seen the movie, you need to, but in the meantime allow me to summarize and put my own spin on it for you. ;)

The movie starts off with the horror stories of dozens of different people--from a couple who have to sell their house and move into their daughter's computer room because they were bankrupted by medical co-pays, to a woman who worked in the same hospital that denied her husband's life-saving bone marrow transplant because it was deemed "experimental" so he died, to the mom of an 18 month-old little girl who was brought to the hospital with a fever of 104 but denied treatment because the hospital wasn't a Kaiser facility and by the time the mom got her to the approved hospital the girl went into cardiac arrest and died, to volunteer 9/11 rescue workers whose lives have been ruined by the health problems caused by their heroism sifting through the rubble and helping save lives at ground zero.

As if that stuff isn't bad enough--and doesn't make you feel like it's just a matter of time until we all get cancer or something that ultimately won't be covered by health insurance and end up in the same position as the people in the movie--he then takes you on a tour of other countries' health systems: Canada, London, France and Cuba. I'm sure there is another side to the coin, but what he portrays just makes you feel like you're living in a dream--a very bad dream.

There are horror stories of "rich Americans" who are paying top dollar or whose employers are paying top dollar for health coverage who sill have to fight tooth and nail just to get routine medical care--and that's paying through the nose for it. Then he takes you to Canada where these very rational, nice Canadians all talk about how pleasant and effective--and absolutely free--their healthcare system is, then to London for more of the same, then on to the kicker, France.

When he gets to France it's like the grand finale of a fireworks display: he suddenly just bombarding us with how great France is in every way and how, by contrast, America sucks all the worse. My favorite scene is where he's in a restaurant with a bunch of American expats and they just start listing all the ways France kicks ass. Healthcare is free--and great: one French guy lives in America his entire adult life but then gets cancer so goes back to France for (free) treatment, then once he's cured, his doctor gives him a 3 month pass to "rest" so he can get his strength back, which he does in the South of France while being paid 100% of his salary (65% by the government and 35% by his employer). Then they start the litany of other unbelievably-good things in France: a legally-mandated minimum of five weeks of leave per yer--and that's not including unlimited sick time, an extra week for your honeymoon if you get married, and a day off if you have to move--the unheard of by American standards maternity leave, free childcare, free colleges....oh, and free babysitters that will come to your house and take care of your baby and even do your laundry! WTF?

I could go on but I'll save some surprises for when you go see it yourself; suffice it to say that even though I have never so much as set a toe outside this country (except to Canada when I was a young kid so I don't count that) and am the least worldly person I know, it made me want to pack a bag and get on the next flight to Paris. It made me wonder why I'm even living in this country of greedy morons, this country where we have access to the most expensive, sophisticated medical equipment and drugs in the world, yet the only thing that matters is making a buck. You watch this movie where he talks to people at hospitals in England and France and even Cuba and see how money doesn't even enter into the equation--it's like every other country is some kind of fairyland where there are these beautiful, clean hospitals where nobody has to wait more than a few minutes and everyone gets top-notch FREE healthcare. Meanwhile, back in the good ol' U S of A Kaiser is sticking sick old ladies into cabs with a voucher for a one-way fare to skid row and our "Heroes" can't even get tested for--let alone treated for--illness sustained when they were willingly sacrificing their lungs at ground zero for the love of their country.

What's the catch? And will things here ever change or is the grim reality he exposes just a fact of life here in the land of the free and the home of the brave?

Photobucket Album

Finally figured out how to post pictures! This is a hodgepodge of Patrick and my trip to San Diego (where we got engaged!) and a few of the kids from March 2007.

Not that this will do an ounce of good, but I finally wrote a letter to McDonalds voicing my, to put it mildly, dismay about the fact that it is nearly impossible to walk into a McDonalds and place an order then actually receive what I order. I know this might come across like I'm some redneck bigot who wants an Aryan nation or something, and I don't mean it that way. But at what point is there a limit to how far cultural diversity goes when it comes to language? Is it really appropriate that I should have to learn how to say "I only want chicken, lettuce and cheese" in Spanish to get a chicken snack wrap with no sauce? (and yes, this is true...I did learn this because I was unwilling to give up my beloved snack wrap)?

Yes, I could give up fast food to try to get around the problem but that wouldn't really solve the larger issue. Why is it that our standards are apparently so low that someone who doesn't speak a word of English can be employed and making, in theory at least, a living wage? How many non-fast food workers would be allowed to show up to work and not be able to do their jobs at all because of the language barrier, yet still keep the job? Or, for that matter, could I move to Paris and get a job in a boulangerie while operating at about a 7th grade level as far as speaking/understanding French? Could I then get food stamps and free medical care to supplement the income I make standing around not being able to fulfill my job responsibilities because I don't know enough French to take an order and accurately fill it?

The fact is that I know I'm part of the problem--I keep going to McDonalds even though I have to practically use hand signs to order my meal, and 9 times out of 10 walk away with a large fries instead of the large drink I ordered because it would take too long to get them to correct the mistake. Maybe I and everyone just like me--short on time and patience and needing the occasional fast food fix--am the reason that the problem keeps getting worse and worse; if McDonalds and other restaurants continue to turn a profit whether people get good service or not, what's their incentive to try to attract English-speaking employees?

Anyway, here is my letter to McDonalds--what do you think the chances are that it will actually get read?

This complaint applies not only to this visit but many visits at local McDonald's restaurants. This particular visit was representative of almost every visit to a McDonalds in the Olney/Rockville/Gaithersburg MD area.

The order taker could not speak English--none of the employees could. I ordered a grilled chicken wrap with no sauce, just like I always do. And just as is always the case these days, he couldn't understand me. I had to say it several times, then of course they put sauce on it. Then I returned it and they gave it to me with no sauce--but gave me fried chicken instead of grilled chicken.

This same thing happens literally 9 out of 10 times I go to McDonalds. Also, 9 out of 10 times they get my order wrong, whether they speak English or not: I order a drink, they don't enter it right so they don't give me a drink and I have to do a whole new transaction. Or I order 2 of something and they give me only 1.

Is it that McDonalds doesn't pay enough to attract English-speakers? It drives me crazy that I, the customer, a US citizen residing in America, have to learn Spanish just to order a grilled chicken wrap with no sauce!! Americans are the people who made McDonalds the wildly-successful institution it in this country; as such I think it is your responsibility to keep it so AMERICANS can order food in your restaurants in ENGLISH, which is still, to the best of my knowledge, this country’s native language.

I swear, I don't know how people who do daily blogs find time to do it. Then again, I guess if it's your job then you have the time to do it.

My divorce is final TOMORROW and I can't wait to finally have some closure. Even though I was married for almost 14 years it feels like that part of my life never existed--when I think back to how miserable I was for so many years I can't imagine having lived that way for so long. The good news is that for as miserable as I was for all those years, I am so happy and in such a great place now that my old life seems like it was just a bad dream. I have learned and grown so much and am such a better person and mother for it. I always used to think that the whole "a good mom is a happy mom" thing was self-serving bullshit, but I have to say in my case it's true.

But I digress...enough of me rambling about my personal life. Or maybe that's what my millions of readers want to read? lol (I may as well be writing an email to you, Cassie, because you're probably the only one here!).

I have added a link to the blog I read every day because I think it has a lot of food for thought. I find it very ironic that I relate to the author because back when I was a stay-home mom valiantly trying to convince myself that I was doing the right thing for my kids by staying in a horrible marriage and denying myself any personal satisfaction or fulfillment (What--me, bitter? Never!)I would have jumped all over everything this woman and her fans say. Daycare for sick kids. Valuing one's job and not being willing to just walk away from it to stay home with kids full-time. Who knows what else; all I know is that if I were reading the same blog 3 or 5 years ago, instead of relating to Leslie Morgan Steiner, I would have been bashing every single post. Live and learn, I guess. Now it's the exact opposite--I feel like I finally have given myself permission to actually admit that I need the intellectual stimulation and, yes, income, that working provides. It feels a little weird, like I've joined the dark side or something. When I was a stay-home mom and associated only with other stay-home moms I experienced first hand--and of course participated in--the blatant scorn stay-home moms have for working moms. I remember friends who would deliberately have birthday parties for their kids in the middle of the day on a week day, scoffing at the fact that if a mom worked she couldn't come to the party. Maybe if she wasn't selfish and WORKING then her kid could have come to the party; it was a good way of making sure that they (we) never got to know any actual working moms because the stay-home mom lifestyle just didn't really intersect with the working mom world.

I know that my stay-home mom friends look at me and think "poor Maggie" now that I HAVE to work; I, on the other hand, now can't imagine being a SAHM again. Two summers ago it drove me crazy that I couldn't be home full-time with my kids and had to send them to camp and arrange babysitters, and I wanted nothing more than to have the luxury of going to the pool with them every day and just "doing nothing." That is, it drove me crazy until I stopped and remembered those many summers where I had done just that and was about ready to slit my wrists by mid-July. This summer, even though it's hectic and expensive and stressful to figure out the childcare thing, the thought of the alternative--being home with them every day myself--makes me shudder and want nothing more than to be sitting in my cube at work. I guess different things work at different points in people's lives and what I thought would never work for me (no pun intended)--being a career mom--is, in the end, what I probably should have been all along.

Anyway, I digress....I'm even boring myself here so I know it's boring anybody else who may be reading this.

Wish me luck for tomorrow--Eric is the plaintiff so he's the one who goes to the divorce hearing and I just hope he doesn't screw it up. All I want is, come this time tomorrow, to not be Mrs. Eric Leifer anymore!

Ok, enough socio-political rambling (is that what you'd classify this stuff as?)--on to much more interesting topics.

Such as my fixation with all things Japanese.

Why, you ask? Stuff like this is an example of just one of the many millions of reasons why.