"Hoping" to Adopt

It's been over a year and half since I posted, and what a year and a half it's been. In some ways I feel like  completely different person than the one who wrote the previous posts, with the biggest change being that I am no longer a closet Taylor Swift fan. You can't admit to yourself that you like her and her music and not have it change you.

There have been other significant life-changing events over the last couple of years. Every day is a battle to decide that I am going to be okay not knowing what the future holds in store for our family of two. Will it grow or always be just the two of us? I've become the person who I talk to most, telling myself that I can do this. I can have faith. I can be  patient. I am okay turning my life over to those who know my needs better than I do. I guess that's what this whole thing is about.

The route of the emotional roller coaster began with excitement, turned into sadness and anger, took a loop through pride, and is now settling somewhere on the border between pride and impatience. I hate that I have to share so many personal details about my relationship with Dan with so many people I don't know. It's something that seems too precious to post about on a public site. And to know that someone who reads about us will not really know us authentically, because to only write about the good things is to say that there is no value in the challenges we face and the flaws in our human nature. How can anyone ever really appreciate the whole of a person without knowing those things? Those battle scars and quirks are what make a person relatable, likeable, and well, a person. The whole process feels so uncomfortable to me that I would much rather live out the dream when I show up on the first day of school to greet my class only to realize that I don't have pants on.

But, nevertheless, here we are  . . . hoping to adopt. And I'm working every day at the "hope" part of the process. I had no intentions for this to be the most depressing post in the world, but I felt such a need to communicate the reality of "hoping to adopt." I look at others' profiles and wonder how they seem so happy and patient while in this oversaturated pool of waiters. I click through and count the number of couples or families I would choose over myself. How are there so many ridiculously good-looking, super wealthy, or over-educated people in the pool of hopeful parents? I can't imagine that there are too many birth parents who sit down to write their ideal adoptive parent attributes as not bad looking, enough money, and some education. But, hey, if they did, I would be just the person for them! Sometimes, just when I feel completely hopeless, someone comes out of the woodwork to share with me a story about someone in their family who adopted and the story is remarkable, the kind of story that makes you know in an instant that there are forces greater than ourselves at work here.

There are a lot of things that I don't know. But I do know for some reason that I am supposed to write about my feelings and experiences. I'm much better at working through my emotions in writing than I am in person or even in my head. Maybe that's the reason why I'm supposed to share these feelings. I can't imagine that there is anyone who could benefit from reading about my experiences since I'm still working in remedial levels when it comes to understanding things in this life.

I pray every day that the Lord will forgive me for being so proud and hard headed. And I pray for patience, hope, and faith . . . lots and lots of faith. And for now, I'll just keep taking things one day at a time, hoping to adopt.

DanAndMeganAdopt.com

An Invitation

I haven't been a great blogger for the past couple of years. I suppose that's partly because of changes in my life. I'm no longer a single woman traveling the globe and living from one exciting event to the next. My life has taken on a different meaning. And change is good; it's just not as exciting to write about. Especially because the last three years have been a journey of self discovery. I've been working through things in my own mind, leaving me with few thoughts to "put on paper." It's been a wonderful journey, though. Difficult as well. But who ever told a compelling tale of a journey that was easy? My journey was probably no different than those millions of others go through each day as they move from one phase of life to the next. I'll get to more details later. But for the past few years I have felt that my new marriage and health deserved my focus more than my blog, and I have been very grateful that I made that decision.

A secondary reason for neglecting my blog was cyber-bullying. No, I never had anything horrible happen that involved me or my blog. But I hated the idea that handfuls of people who I don't know well or who don't like me read my blog. I would hate to think that someone was reading about my life hoping to learn of something bad that had happened to me. Call it paranoia, but I am well aware of people (women) who do just that. I thought that if I faded into the background for a while, that any of these kinds of people would give up on my blog. I know it sounds crazy, but I have reason to believe such people exist and I hate knowing that people feel so negatively about me.

And since this is MY blog, I want to be able to share my feelings and thoughts without being criticized for sharing them. People these days feel much too comfortable being openly and often rudely critical of others' thoughts and feelings shared through social media. If you don't like what someone posted or shared, stop reading it. People freely dish out criticisms to others when they are hidden behind the safety of an electronic screen. I don't need to read criticisms from people I have met only once, people who I have not spoken to in over a decade, or others. It is just hurtful. And those people would NEVER say those same words to my face. Social media is a place where people share their thoughts and feelings. If you disagree with someone or don't like what they posted, I say again, stop reading it. I want to feel comfortable openly sharing things on here with those I love and care about, and also because I enjoy it even if no one as reads it. I enjoy writing and it's therapeutic to document my life in some sense.

So I extend an invitation. To those who agree to be civil, both in thought and deed, please feel free to visit my blog. Perhaps you're bored at work, or we're old chums and you'd like to know I'm alive and well. Maybe you're one of my family members who live across the globe. Welcome. As I slowly warm back up to the task of blogging, I hope you read or see something that isn't completely boring. Come and visit, and be kind. And I will do the same in return.

Thank you.

pleeeeease

Parents, please put longer shorts on your young daughters. I'm sick of seeing bum cheeks hanging out all over town. You buy their clothes, don't you? You don't want guys oogling her bum cheeks do you? This could all be solved with just a few more inches of material. Heck, I'll buy it for you. She might put up a fight now, but you're saving her from  being seen as someone who needs to use her body to get attention. Then she gets a reputation, her self-esteem plummets because it's based purely on her fleeting looks, she withdraws socially, stops applying herself in school, doesn't graduate, and has to go to clown college. Do you want your beautiful daughter to go to clown college? I didn't think so. Buy her some longer shorts. She's too smart and too funny to wear those kinds of clothes.

Brain Dump

I have had a lot of time to blog lately. But the funny thing is, now that I have the time, I have less desire and less brain capacity for blogging. Weird, I know. I think it's because before, when I was working, I was so busy doing expository writing all day that I just couldn't wait to do some sort of nonsense, stress-free writing. Now my days are full of nonsense.

Speaking of nonsense, have you seen this?



This is funny for two reasons:
1) Elmo sings about not wearing clothes—works on so many levels.
2) Elmo is naked.

While we're making lists, here's another one. There are two kinds of people who (or whom, I'm too tired to look it up) I have no more patience for: Obsessed Twilight fans and "woe is me" people.

Grown women who obsess over Twilight need a hobby . . . or a boyfriend . . . or need to spice things up with their husbands.

Woe is you! Woe is all of us. As Norm says, "Life's a beast and then you die." (Edited for web appropriateness.) You are not the only person who has problems. News flash: everyone has problems—at this very moment. The more time you spend feeling sorry for yourself and moping, the worse the problems seem. But if you can see outside of yourself and try to spend time doing things to help other people, your problems will seem to be much more manageable, even if they don't go away. Plus, you're kind of a downer.

And, finally, to end in a quote from a timeless classic and still follow my theme of lists:

"There are two kinds of people in this world: Those who like Neil Diamond and those who don't."
-Bob
What About Bob

Why you're still single . . .

Yes, I'm going there.

The purpose of this post is to get you excited, riled up, angry, curious, or any other kind of emotional in anticipation of my upcoming blog series, "Why you're still single."

Don't worry ladies, you're off the hook on this one. But men, buckle up and get settled in with your comfort blanket, because you're going to need it. I've been observing behaviors of single men for years now and I can't help but notice the patterns that appear among single men—most of whom wish they weren't single. This series aims to educate the world as to why single men remain single, despite their "best" efforts.

Here's a preview of just some of the topics to look forward to:
1. If you used to babysit her, she's too young to be on a date with you. Unless of course, you'd like to raise a wife while you raise kids.
2. Your mom might be the only woman who really thinks you're a 10, so, get used to dating 5s.
3. A text conversation does not qualify as a step forward in your imaginary relationship.
4. You can still have hobbies after you're married.
5. You've seen one too many romantic comedies—the myth of "the one" distracts you from perfectly lovable women.
6. Women who are ridiculously good looking, are ridiculously stupid and shallow. Yet you still ask them out.

And so on . . .

I look forward to shoving more of my opinions in your face in the form of blog posts!

decem

Well, elephant in the room: I found my Cadbury eggs. Thanks to all of those who supported me and stood by my side through this challenge. I knew we could do it.

I have a lot of unrelated thoughts going through my head tonight.

The first is a facebook group. I don't understand a lot of things behind the technology of how facebook works. Somehow I was added to a group that didn't require my approval. Didn't know you could even do that. It was a group for the 2001 graduates from my high school. Apparently there is a ten-year reunion in the works. As soon as I saw the page I was sick. Is that weird? Actually, don't answer that. As I scrolled down the page and hovered my mouse over the thumbnail images of people in the group, I didn't know who a good third of the people were. My high school was huge. Incidentally, so was my graduating class. Then as I saw faces of familiar people, it threw me back to a different time from which I knew these people. I was a completely different person then. It just seems so strange to me that one would want to go and spend a bunch of time with people they haven't spoken to or seen in over ten years. I'm not a total heartless witch. I'm always glad to run into people I knew from school and catch up when I see them. I still keep in contact with some, I'm facebook friends, and a blog follower of many. But, why dwell on history? We keep in contact with those we wish to and wish well for those we don't keep in contact with. Is it just me that feels this way? Everyone was writing such excited comments on the group's wall. One person even mentioned flying in from Germany to come! High school has come and gone. We were kids. The best part of our lives is happening now, now that we're old enough to make it happen.

Needless to say, I won't be going to my high school reunion. But, I'm sure you figured that out by now.

And all of the other thoughts floating through my head, well, I was going to pass on them because I'm too tired . . . and as I typed this last sentence, I decided I am, in fact, too tired to go on rambling. Plus I figure it might be one of those emotion-filled posts that you end up regretting later. And although you can un-publish it, the post still remains on others' Blogger home pages and GoogleReader. And that's just not a risk I'm willing to take this late at night. I'll give you a teaser though, I hate it when people dislike, de-friend, or blame me for ruining their lives. I'm only human, Harry!

The way the Valentine cookie crumbles

I must be really tired today. I find myself saying really sappy things to people and pouring my heart out to them about how much I appreciate them. Then there was that embarrassing moment while I was in Walgreen's and I realized, after it was too late, that I was enjoying the cornball song that was playing. It was like I couldn't stop listening to it. The sane Megan was fighting the tired, cheesy Megan, and the end results weren't pretty.

Before I left for work I thought, "I should grab a stack of cards and put notes on everyone's desk to let them know how great they are." Then, in a flash of rational, I realized that I no longer teach in an elementary classroom.

Yesterday, throughout the course of the day, I ended up talking on the phone to each of my sisters, which is rare. It was just fun to talk to each of them. Everyone in my family is so unique and just really, really fun. I ended my final sister phone call yesterday, and a sappy song began playing on my radio. I just let myself cry—the good kind of cry—thinking about how much I love my family. My brain began to play a video montage that highlighted each person in my family like it was their final moment and song after being voted off American Idol. I think this moment could have been controlled simply by not playing sappy music in my car. I blame my friend Michelle for that. She makes the more incredible "mix tapes" and sneaks in a sappy song here or there to catch you off guard. Why I oughtta . . .

I think this is all just my body's way of preparing itself for Valentine's Day! I plan on sleeping for three days straight this weekend so I can come back to real life next week and not be such a basket case. Can you say HEART-SHAPED SUGAR COOKIES?!?

Some people never grow out of nerdom

You know, in all my growing up years I dreamed of all the exciting things I'd do when I was a grown up. Well, today I am writing a glossary. I can just see little brace-faced, freckly, chubby nine year-old me crying as tears drop on my stretch pants with stirrups just thinking about writing a glossary. What about my hopes and dreams, my castles in the air? Well, nine year-old Megan, I don't know how to tell you this, but you might actually enjoy writing a glossary. But you won't understand until you get older and have had more experience in having your dreams crushed. I probably shouldn't tell you this, but you also like rearranging the things in the cupboards.

Confucius says . . .

If a grey hair is plucked from your head and no one was around to see it, did it ever really exist?

File your complaints here:

To the woman driving the gold Honda Odyssey van with the Ragnar sticker headed north on I-15 this morning, you are a cotton-headed ninny-muggins. Pardon the language, folks. But I feel confident in declaring this woman the most clueless human being on Earth.

Did you even run in a Ragnar race? Probably not. I'm sure they disqualified you not long after you started for CUTTING PEOPLE OFF! Thanks for turning into my lane at 5 mph when there was no one behind me for miles... you must've been in a big rush. I could tell by your turtle-paced speed. How about the three times you cut me off without signaling on the freeway, just to go slower than I was going? Those were my personal favorite moves. You must be in a big hurry, something important going on. . . I could tell be the very animated conversation you were having the entire time you were blocking me from changing lanes in traffic. I've never wanted to go-go-Gadget into a monster truck and run someone over so bad in my life.

By the way, did you notice that you were in a car? On the freeway? Driving?

If you know anyone who fits the description of this woman, you have my full and encouraged permission to slug her in the stomach. Then yell, "Take that, soccer mom," and flee for your life.

Sheesh

Twenty-one of my friends on facebook are "fans" of Glenn Beck. C'mon guys.

"Hi. I'm Glenn Beck and the world is ending every day. So I yell at times. And sometimes I pause for dramatic emphasis. And really, I think I missed my calling in life as an evangelical preacher."

That's really all I have to say about that.

Let's get this over with

There's no other way to say it. I have been sucked in by The Bachelorette. I never thought I'd be one of those girls. It started only a few weeks ago in Oregon with my Husband's family. Tonight's the episode where Alli goes home to each of the boys' houses and meets their families.
(side note: Alli laughs way too much.I bet her face gets really, really tired.)
The only problem is that I fall in love with each of the boys for Alli when she meets their families. I thought I was all about Roberto, but THEN she met Chris' family. How adorable is he? And his dad? Don't you just want to adopt them?
Oh, man. Chris is going to be so crushed when she doesn't choose him.
I choose Chris. Final answer. I think I like him so much because he reminds me of my husband . . . Kind of a tender heart.

Kirk's dad . . . Creepy! Though I love his parent's accents. Makes me miss "Bobby's World," don't ya know.
Now Kirk's mom . . . What a sweetie. Let's just sneak into her house and replace her pink lipstick with a clear lipgloss. She'll thank us later.

Oh, I feel so bad for these boys. These are some really strong feelings that these guys are messing with.

Frank accidentally put women's clothing on today. Poor guy. Why does she Like him? I'm pretty sure he likes boys. He has the emotions of a pubescent teen.
And I don't have any more comments about Kirk-pants because I care so little about him I stepped out of the room to do some dishes and laundry while Alli met his family.

Kirk! I could have guessed it. Although it should have been Frank. But, hey, maybe this will be just what Kirk needs . . . To be dumped. Welcome to the club, buddy.

Sunday Highlights

[Written last Sunday (obviously), and just posted today for some reason.]

My husband and I were late to church today. Why, you might ask, were two adults late to 1:00pm church? The answer is simple. These two adults both share an irrational fear of spiders.

The time was 12:34. We entered our kitchen to eat a snack before we left for church. Otherwise, we were all ready to go. Then, it happened. I screamed and probably said something that I can't type on here. There was a GINORMOUS spider on our kitchen wall, about to pounce on me and eat me alive. We both freaked out for a good amount of time. Then this little bugger skidaddled across the wall at a ridiculously fast pace to a nook in our kitchen where we couldn't see or reach him.

So then, we did something we're not proud of. We decided we were justified in going to the store. Well, I sent my husband while I stayed on spider watch. I kept my husband on the phone to give him a play-by-play as the spider came out of his hiding place and pranced along all our personal belongings on top of the cupboards. The nerve.

Soon, husband came home with bug spray for scorpions and a bug bomb. By this time, the little guy was hiding in the blinds. So, like any man would, husband sprayed every nook and cranny with bug spray. When we could no longer breathe, we went to church.

When we came home, we were feeling pretty confident that the spider was either dead, or was scared back outside. Much to my dismay, he was alive and well, flaunting his creepy eight legs on the wall right behind me. Then it happened. Husband got close enough to kill the spider with the spray. My hero!!

Yes, I did just write multiple paragraphs about a spider hunt.

Then I thought today was March 25 and one of my best friend's birthdays. So I quickly text my others BFFs to tell them to wish her a happy birthday, not realizing I did the exact same thing a month ago. Go me.

Then I realized I'm not 25, for perhaps the first time since my 26th birthday last June. BUT, I do know that it's 2010. So, one out of two ain't bad. Maybe by my first anniversary I'll realize that I have a new last name. Maybe.

Hello again.

Please excuse my absence from blogging these past few weeks. I have been very busy, uh.... doing some thing... uh, awesome. Including my secret military spy missions, of which I cannot speak. But let me reassure you that is was very Bourne-esque.

All that's really on my mind today is this: My boss, one of my bosses I should say, is stuck on a buzz word that he completely overused in a meeting. Jettison was used at least ten times during a PowerPoint presentation. AT LEAST. I lost track after ten... or possibly I tuned out. But the point is that now I have that word stuck in my head. Is it possible to have a word stuck in your head?!? Welp, I do.

I would like to jettison this word from my life.

The Same, But Different

As I write this, I am sitting in my "childhood" bed at my parents house, alone. Somewhere in a parallel outdoor universe, my husband is probably lying in a sleeping bag, or two, or three, or four, shivering and wondering why he and his friend ever thought snow camping was a good idea. (he, he) The funny thing is that I grew up in this room. I slept in this bed for 18 long years. I'm under the same blankets, with the same pillows, surrounded by the same book shelves and pictures on the wall, but it feels so odd to be here. I have only been married for about 4 months, but that short amount of time somehow wiped away all the old normalcy of my single life—my life alone.

It feels weird to think that my I don't know exactly what my husband is doing and saying right now. It almost makes me laugh out loud, because anyone who knows me well knows that I thought I'd never want someone to be a part of my life at all times. So, I pathetically wish that I were with my husband tonight, rather than alone at the home I know so well.

All this has got me to thinking. Why is it that I love being married to T.M.I.M.? Well, for your reading pleasure, here are just a few of the reasons:

• There is always someone who wants to listen to me talk about my day, and finds it genuinely interesting. (Unless of course he is playing his DS, or thinking about camping)
• I always have someone to hold the other half of the hymn book and it doesn't have to be awkward.
• I don't have to throw away the other half of my Cafe Rio salad.
• There is always an opportunity to hear voices, quotes, and imitations when I least expect it and most need a laugh.
• I have someone to share my hopes and dreams with who won't think I'm crazy. 
• Mario found her Luigi. We can now take over the gaming world!
• There is someone to confirm that I do NOT snore, when I've been wondering for so long.
• I have someone to camp for me so I don't have to.
• I don't have to push myself when I stand on the bar on the grocery cart and I can now float down the aisles with ease. 
• I have an insect killer at my beckon call, a role which I'm pretty sure my parents were tiring of. 
• I have a warm body to cuddle with instead of my body pillows.
• I have a life-sized Ken to dress.
• I have someone to sit real close to at church when it's freezing cold.
• I can wake up someone nearby during the middle of the night when I have bad dreams, like all five year-olds do.
• I have someone to laugh at really lame commercials and sitcoms with.
• I always have confirmation, although forced, when I say that a certain girl is not cute.

These are just a few of the things I can think of at the moment, with my less-than-alert mind. I'm sure I would list less silly and more sincere things after a full night's rest. But that's not why you read my blog.

"The advice is priceless, and the book is free."

Many of you have probably seen this before. But it's always worth a replay.

In a recent discussion with my husband where we listed all the things we'd rather buy instead food, gas, insurance, and other necessities, this clip came to mind.




So, until I become a billionaire, the wish list of things we'd like to buy will have to do:

Hover house, hover car, money tree, my personal yoga studio and instructor, stock in H&M, Muddy Buddy dispenser in my car, tredmill desk to work off the Muddy Buddies, house on the coast with a wrap around porch, my grandma's old house restored to the exact position it was in when she was still alive, a baby grand piano, robotic arms or legs, someone to follow me around and tell me I look cute all day, a personal jet to take me to see Jen, Shae, and Lara at will, someone to shave my legs for me (at least weekly), etc.

A girl can dream...

Lies My Father Told Me

"Hard work is it's own reward."

I guess it would be if I were working for free. But I'm not. I don't work hard and take on more responsibilities just for the sake of feeling good and chipping in. I guess that's always the initial motivation. But as time moves on, you'd like to see fruits of you labors (and by fruit, of course I mean cash). And the corporate, non-government world is where those dreams can come true—where your hard work will finally be rewarded! NOT. I was under the impression that leaving the public sector and working for a private company would allow me to progress in my job so far as I had the ability to. I am standing proof that this is not the case. You see kids, sometimes adults work hard, and nobody cares about how hard you work... it's never enough. Oh, you learned what skill and streamlined what process? Great, we'll reward you by sending more responsibilities your way. And then to top it off, we'll slap you in the face and give you a swift kick in the pants. Welcome to adulthood. And boy am I glad to be here.

Also, when your dad actually notices a change in your hair for the FIRST time in recorded history, you know it's not good. Monday morning I was feeling brave and asked my sister to cut me some real bangs. Monday afternoon I was feeling remorseful and was quickly reminded by the mirror reflecting my short bangs that I have an ugly face. I know that sounds dramatic, but that's how I felt. Now that I've calmed down, I know I don't have a completely ugly face, maybe just not the face for real bangs. Plus. as I've been styling them, I'm having flashbacks to 5th grade... and the Utah claw bang that I used to sport, courtesy of my two-inch Conair curling iron. Those were dark, ugly times in my life. But when I stopped by my parents for lunch today, Norm said, "About your bangs, I really like them. They make you look a lot younger." Which is just what a 26 year-old who typically can be found wearing hoodies and pony tails needs.
So, let me ask you this bang inovators (Sig, Lindsay, Cambria, etc): How on earth do you style them to look not circa 1992? Round brush gets them too round, and flat iron too flat. What is a girl to do?!

Here we see Megan attempting the very popular full-bang, but not completely succeeding.

 We also note that it looks as if she's picking her nose... it was an itch. 

And, yes, that is absolutely chipped, black nail polish.

Why I'm Moving to the North Pole

I claim to be no scholar of politics and American government. However, I have always has a keen interest in U.S. history and the current events in politics. At many times in my short life I have been frustrated with our government, even embarrassed—by members of either party. There have also been times when I have been proud of the accomplishments of our government and honored to be a citizen of this country. But never before have I felt so much like I was suddenly transported to Russia. Never before have I felt like the voice of the people meant absolutely nothing to power-hungry federal government members. Never before have I felt like the people in power have totally forgotten who they are working for, who hired them.

Just for the sake of discussion, I am going to draw some parallels between some current goings on and the Declaration of Independence. Why? Because many times in my job I get the opportunity to review this marvelous writing and think about what it means. And because lately, I feel as if I can relate to these founding fathers. I feel some of their same frustrations. I've liked to the entire copy of the article, but I will be selecting only excerpts for my discussion.

From the Preamble: 

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. This represents my overall frustration. It sure is hard to pursue happiness when anytime you succeed, you are taxed. Or there is some sort of government regulation against your success.


--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, -- Deriving their powers from the consent of the governed doesn't mean that if only 30% of your nation wants your bill, you pass it anyway. These men and women of congress are our representatives, yet their choices and actions aren't the representation of what the people want in so many cases.


Speaking of the King's abuses of power: 


He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures. This sounds a lot like the so-called town meetings (to get feedback on the healthcare legislation) that were being held in CT and other places in the east where people weren't allowed to leave until the wee hours of the morning. Or when would be meeting attendees weren't informed of the meetings until the day after the meeting. 


He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws No where in our constitution or in our laws does it state that it is the responsibility of government to provide healthcare, and regulate industries for our nation.


For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent: Exactly. Cadillac tax, anyone? And so on...


For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws, and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments: In present day, taking away states' rights or mandating that they do certain things in a way outlined by the federal government. 



Conclusion of the Declaration:


Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our Brittish brethren. Nor have WE been wanting in attentions from our federal brethren.


I know that at all times in our government's history, unfortunately, some men and women in power have been corrupt. That will be an eternal truth. But why are so many people in power so unfamiliar with or resistant to the reasons for the creation of the country anyway? Men came here for freedom from many things. These men had seen horrible government. They had also seen many things in government, that if implemented correctly, would work. They wanted to create a government using the pieces from their old government that did and could work and new pieces to fill voids seen in former governments. They wrote a constitution. And in that constitution they included the rule of law or supremacy law. This law means that the law is above everyone and applies to everyone. Why, then, do so many men and women in high government positions feel that this doesn't apply to them? And why are they still allowed to remain in position when it is clear to the world that they don't feel this pertains to them? It's late. And my mind on government matters is everywhere. I have no concise point to wrap this up. Just that I'm beyond disappointed in the men and women of our government. Particularly federal government. Take a moment for a reality check. Imagine what it must feel like to be the average citizen right now. Forget your personal agenda, your quest for power and accomplishment. Admit that you were wrong. And get back to working for the people. 

Good Idea. Bad Idea.

Good Idea:

Making buttercream frosting to go with your sugar cookies

Bad Idea:

Putting 7 cups of granulated sugar in the recipe that calls for confectioner's sugar

A Presidential Slap in the Face

In recent months I have become more involved in the happenings of federal government than usual. There are a few reasons for this change:

1. For the past few months (though they've felt like years), I have been working on a government textbook. I have come to understand so many interesting and useless bits of information about government. I might actually know more than I'd ever care to know.
2. I am supremely interested in the health care debates, as I am someone who is ever dependent on my health insurance. Probably much more so than most people my age.
3. And during mental breaks at work, I seem to find my way to the New York Times website.

Keeping up to date on political issues can be addicting and exhausting all at the same time.

So last night as my darling and I sat down to relax and watch the tube, you can image how intrigued I was to discover that the Oprah "Christmas at the Whitehouse" Special was being aired.

Oprah's tour/interview began in the oval office where president Obama presented his Christmas tree and shared thoughts on what he enjoys most about living in the Whitehouse, "The people's house," as he called it. (It's hardly the people's house, as few people get to enjoy it much more than during a quick tour.)

Next, Oprah met up with the First Lady, who was all but bedazzled. She wore giant diamond earrings and a large, pearl necklace that gathered to a diamond pendant. She did look lovely, but I couldn't get past her flashy accessories. She took Oprah on a tour of the Whitehouse to show her the many, many Christmas trees, garlands, and other LAVISH decorations. Now, don't get me wrong. I know it's tradition to decorate the Whitehouse in a beautiful fashion. But during a time of such economic crisis, don't you wonder if having personal decorators work on the place for FIVE straight days is a little less than necessary?!

I'm not naive enough to think that if the First Family took all the money that would have been used in decorating the Whitehouse and applied it to the federal deficit, that it would make any difference. BUT at a time like this, how can the First Family sleep at night knowing that our whole nation is suffering financially, many people are without jobs, homes, food, and other means of survival, yet they have DOZENS of Christmas trees, personal decorators, and a HUGE gingerbread Whitehouse created by any number of personal chefs?

As the interview went on, Barack and Michelle bantered about the cost and flashy-ness of Michelle's jewelry and her taste for fine things. When asked what would be different at the Whitehouse this year during Christmas season, Michelle responded, "We'll be having more parties." Then she went on to describe the 50,000 some odd guest list.

I am floored. And a little bit angry. During a time of financial crisis, when our national unemployment rate is at 10%, our government is participating in RECORD spending (which we will pay for), we're financing a decade-long war, and the average American is going without, the "most powerful" family in the world is flaunting their lavish life style in the faces of Americans. How do you think that makes us feel? The local food bank estimated that they would be empty by the end of the month. A national food drive campaign was organized to help the needy. Friends and family members are doing more this year for needy families than ever before... and the whitehouse is hosting more parties.

Shame on you.

During an opportunity to inspire the American public with a heart-warming Christmas message and examples of ways to give back to the country, the First Family failed. How different would our nation be if instead of seeing clips of bragging about gift-giving, and efforts to make the Whitehouse transformed into an elaborate Christmas village, clips were shown about things the First Family was doing to give back, ways they're simplifying their lifestyle during this time, or commitments they're making to help more people? Lead by example. The impact that the "most powerful" family could have had by doing something selfless and humble, something centered around integrity, during that special is immeasurable. Think of the trend that could be set by Obama to his many loyal followers if he chose to keep things simple this year. To save some money, give back, cancel hosting a party that will cost the people millions of dollars.

I guess the old adage applies to financial problems, too. "Out of sight, out of mind." Well, Obamas, I hope you have a great holiday living high on the hog this year, while us average Americans work our butts off to pay off the debt that you will leave us with for years to come. Happy holidays to you too.