The Write Way

Goose loves to paint. She's always begging me to get the paint out. I'm always resisting; too much added mess in a house that doesn't really need any help being messy. Plus, I'm too cheap to go buy water-based paint when I have a box full of acrylic craft paint (left over from a service project 3 years ago) that needs to be used up. I have to be hyper-vigilant about the paint staying ONLY on the paper so we have no stains. Not an easy task when highly distractible three-year-old starts finger painting. I turned my back on her for 5 minutes last time, in that time she had mixed her paint to create a very beautiful deep purple and adorned herself with it up to her elbows.

Apparently, Goose is also always painting at preschool. The papers that come home are never ending and her teacher constantly jokes with me about her propensity to create art, painting in particular. Even the teacher whose class meets before ours has noticed that there are an unbalanced number of "Goose" labeled projects hanging to dry. I'm happy to let the majority of painting happen at preschool.

Even though I'm not always up for the mess, I'm thrilled that Goose has such a drive to create. I believe that the drive to create is a divine gift. Creation feeds a deep hunger in our souls that lurks almost undetected until we feel the warmth of satiation. Each person fulfills that need in a different way; some create art, others music, some cook, or write computer software.

I used to think it didn't matter how you created, as long as you were doing something. But, I was wrong. I have a friend who loves crafting. She makes everything from hand-felted gloves to baby slings. She's extraordinarily skilled and very imaginative in coming up with projects. It's very obvious that doing this gives her energy. I enjoy sewing and we have collaborated on a few projects. It's been fun to have someone who appreciates a trip to the fabric store as much as I do.

Things escalated when we decided to sell some of our handiwork at a preschool fundraiser. I focussed almost exclusively on my projects for a week. I fussed, I ignored children and eating and in the end I had 4 completed items. My friend had over 40. Happily, I did sell 2 items, but I went home pondering the different degrees of fulfillment the event had given each of us. I found myself fighting waves of jealousy that so often beset me in the presence of talented people. But this jealousy was a little different. I wasn't jealous so much of her talent, but of the satisfaction and energy it gives her. Then I heard a whisper in my ear: You are spending your time doing the wrong thing. You need to write.

I felt like I had awoken from a long, hazy dream. The solution seemed so clear. I've known that I should write from Middle School, but I've never pursued it with vigor. I am paralyzed with a fear of failure. What if I should write something that is not good. What if I try to write that book and never get it done. How embarrassing. If I don't write, I can't say I failed, I can only say I never tried. And of course, I have a million reasons why I was prohibited from trying. But when I do write (and especially when I know what I wrote was quality stuff), I get that high, that energy and that fulfillment I see in the eyes of my crafting friend and my daughter.

With this realization, this transparency to self, I have committed to overcome my fears and take some real steps toward really writing. This blog is part of my therapy. Putting my writing out there for public viewing (and comment! Ack!). It makes me vulnerable to the core. But it is making me a better writer. And a happier person.

Economic Crisis

I have a MS in Chemistry. Some days I am proud of that. Most of those days are laundry days. Like the day I got red Sharpie out of Goosie's shirt by soaking it in isopropyl (rubbing) alcohol . Or the day that I got acrylic paint out of her pants using pine-sol. But today....today I am ashamed of myself.

Recently, our bathtub has been succumbing to a thickening layer of nasty mildew. My current favorite bathroom cleaner wasn't touching it. Well, it would with scrubbing, but who has the time for scrubbing? So, when Jimmy John suggested Tilex, I ran out to our local Target and mindlessly grabbed the mildew and mold variety. When I sprayed it on our grimy tile, I thought, "This isn't what I remember Tilex smelling like, this smells like bleach." Active Ingredients of Mold and Mildew Tilex? 2.40% Sodium hypochlorite. Bleach. Diluted bleach for $3.11. ARGH! Well, at least I got a nice spray bottle out of it.

Almost as bad as the time I bought "laptop screen cleaning wipes", which were lint-free wipes soaked in rubbing alcohol. I think I paid $3 or $4 for about 10 wipes. Double ARGH!

I have found that bleach and rubbing alcohol are marketed again and again as different cool products. Be on the watch. For example: Clorox Anywhere Sanitizing Spray is duh-duh-duh-da! diluted bleach! So read the labels. (this is more advice for me, than you) Sodium Hypochlorite = bleach. Isopropyl Alcohol=Rubbing alcohol. Save yourself a little dough and dilute it yourself.

(FYI Regular bleach is 6% sodium hypoclorite, so a 3:1 dilution would be perfect for your bathroom needs. Sanitizing spray needs much less - 0.0095%, so a 500:1 dilution.)

Turning Blue

I grew up in a red house. Well, not literally. Our house was tan. Maybe camel. Or mocha. No, no, no - we're a good Mormon family, we would never live in a mocha-colored house. Speaking of which, I accidentally drank coffee last week. But that's a story for another day; one that involves pumpkin spice and a barista. But, politically, my family bleeds red.

This has been a pretty indisputable fact until recently. It's always been pretty safe to "discuss religion and politics" at family reunions and expect a civil and polite, if not well rounded, discussion. Until lately.

It's happened gradually. First there was the Clinton scandal. No, I'm not talking about Monica or impeachment. I'm referring to the day my father found out that his then one and only beloved son-in-law voted for Clinton. Twice. "The first time could be forgiven," he said only half-jokingly, "But TWICE?" Joe-Joe was lucky he was still allowed at the adult table at Christmas. I have to admit I was pretty shocked to be standing so close to a real-live democrat.

Then I married one.

Technically, Jimmy John is a registered Republican. When we moved to Maryland he had an infuriating experience at the DMV. After hours of waiting and three different lines, he was asked to register to vote. In some mix of exasperation and misplaced retribution against the bureaucracy of the blue state he registered for the opposing party. "I see what you've been telling me, " he said to me. "Smaller government." Then the people around us started rubbing off on him. At dinner parties I found him taking the side of all the liberal-talking wackos, erstwhile I remained the lone bastion of reason. I could tell I was losing him to the dark side. I guess he and Joe-Joe could sit together at Thanksgiving.

Of course, Rosie would be there to. My sister has been the most outspoken, and only blood related, liberal in the family. The artist. Every family's got one. Her support of Obama came as a surprised to no one.

What I didn't realize, until just recently, was how everyone in my family now viewed ME as a liberal. Tainted by association I guess (i.e. Barak Obama and William Ayers). I was shocked when my eldest sister casually referred to me as part of the familial liberal contingency. ME? The lone Dole supporter in my ninth grade Civics class! A straight ticket voter since 18. My goodness, I even supported Alan Keyes in the 2000 republican primary. I did briefly consider voting for John Kerry in 2004 in protest of treatment of prisoners at Guantanamo Bay, but in the end my conservative leanings on other social issues won out.

I didn't start noticing the liberal drift in my life until a family reunion a year ago. I joined an in-progress "debate" between two blood-red family members (a sister and brother-in-law) on global warming. I use the term in its loosest sense as there were absolutely no conflicting points of view until I arrived. I thought since I have a MS in a scientific field, I might be able to add to the discussion. I disagreed with the Glenn Beck doctrine they were relating and suggested some evidence to the contrary. I thought the discussion was interesting and invigorating, although I might have said "PUH-LEEEZ, Glenn Beck is not a scientific expert (and an idiot)." or something like it. Oops, blew my cover. When I left my brother-in-law asked my sister, "Who else in your family is a democrat?!"

My little leftward slide has been interpreted by my family as a total conversion. But, it's two days before the election and I still don't know who I'm voting for. I flip-flop daily. I believe in smaller government, but I think that everyone should have real access to health care (McCain's plan would 1) never pass and 2) would make things worse). I believe in free enterprise, but I see too much corruption in big businesses. I don't think we should abandon our post in Iraq without finishing fixing the mess, but I never agreed with going in there to begin with. I hate the idea of higher taxes, but I can't see a way out of a $10.5 trillion debt without raising the government's revenue.

Maybe I will go with Banana and write-in Cheesecake (see previous post) after all. No, no, no, I know! I'll just pick the candidate with the better performance on a pop-comedy show (Obama McCain)