Anna's Bloviations

2008-10-11T15:17:00.000-07:00

$600 Caesar Salad and Wine. Wanting to take a break from pretending this San Francisco chick knows what she is doing to "promote agricultural sustainability" in the Massachusetts Commonwealth, we decide to take hubby up for an offer to go to NYC for Anna Bloviation's birthday. The plan is that hubby and son drive down and that Anna Bloviations leaves work early, walks along the Boston harbor front to South Station and hops on an Express train to Penn Station. As a sign of the times, the train is fully booked out but we manage to find a window seat in a "Quiet Zone" car (no talking, no cell phones). This means 3 1/2 hours of peace and day dreams with one text message to hubby telling him I can't pick up in the "Quiet Zone" and that I'm sorry they are stuck in horrendous traffic.

At exactly 8:57 p.m. we pull into Penn Station. My luggage is sitting comfortably in hubby's car stalled in traffic and I decide I'll walk from Penn Station the 40+ blocks to the West 77th Street hotel we booked via Expedia months ago. If walking up 8th Ave. amid the eclectic throngs is symbolic of the collective mood of the country then boy oh boy we are in trouble. At 9 p.m. people were already drunk, belligerent, and by the time I got up to 77th St. I thought I'd read 10 novels.

But before I could delve into the bowl es of America's mood I needed food. I ducked into a corner non-descript restaurant and ordered a glass of Pinot Grigio and half-way descent Cesar Salad. The waiter flirted unabashedly for a good tip and in true Anna-needs-food fashion I was done in under a half-hour.

Once past the masses of Mid-Town we hit 8th and Central Park where a very well-to-do woman exited her apartment building disheveled and tears streaking her cheeks. The plummeting stock market perhaps? Was her husband having an affair?

8th and 77th St. still looked promising for a nice hotel but the 250 77th St. West addressed told me I needed to veer west. West got a bit sketchier but still tolerable until I arrived at the hotel with a store front window of suggestive t-shirts. Time: 11:45 p.m. I enter said "3-Star" hotel to find out that our $296 room has a "shared bathroom" with three other rooms. Now hubby pulls up and won't even enter the lobby. Calls back and forth to Expedia reveal that other potential hotels are either sold out or want $450 per night even at midnight. And sorry, the sketchy hotel with the shared bathroom will be charging us $294 cancellation fee. We consider our options when a man walks by and throws up all over the sidewalk. Don't get me wrong. I LOVE NY. But that doesn't stop me from turning to hubby and saying, "This just isn't our weekend to be in NYC." I buy starving hubby a slice of pizza, hop in the car, and drive back to MA. Arrival time: 4:12 a.m.

Cost of Cesar Salad on 8th Ave.? $600. Ride to Penn Station, Cesar Salad, wine, and snatches of conversation on 8th Ave.? Priceless. Expensive? Yes. But sometimes you have to just cut your losses...

2008-06-02T18:19:00.000-07:00

Yes Ok It's Been A While... Turns out there is a lot to learning about cows and such. You've got your raw milk issues, your mobile poultry units (a.k.a. mobile poultry killing machines), your rabies, your gladiolus rust disease, your puppy shops, your greyhoud racing, and the list goes on and on under the roof of the Department of Agricultural Resources. Ever wonder why you never see baby pigeons, for example? Turns out pigeons only have a life expectancy of two years -- which means basically that pigeons are full grown after a month and breeding after 48 days.... How's that for trivia conversation at your next dinner party...

2007-12-02T06:44:00.000-08:00

"Yes...I believe there's a question there in the back."

Anna Bloviation's trying to learn everything there is to know about agriculture in 3 weeks....

2007-11-17T06:46:00.000-08:00

The movie Phenomenon (John Travolta , 1996) seems to have kept the boss (soon to be Commissioner of Agricultural Resources) up 'thinking' for 24 hours. He bugged me for a week to watch it. OK I watched it. My email back to boss:

The reasons you wanted to discuss Phenomenon:

1) You liked the shadows cast by the windmills on the FARM buildings
2) The solar power panels on the FARM roof intrigued you
3) FARMER Travolta's extraterrestrial encounter is the perfect segue for your finally spilling the beans that you once had a U.F.O. experience (which would explain a lot)
4) You want to know if I think this is a Scientology cult movie

I thought the movie was OK but I think it must be a guy's equivalent of a 'chick flick' (hubby liked it too) i.e. it expresses every mid-life guy's fantasy! Misunderstood genius escapes the clutches of the rat race (in this case the FBI that wants to exploit his telekinetic powers) and goes back to play in the sand box of his idyllic farm and make really cool toys; he has a great father figure in his life and a great best friend (and he's BLACK too!!!); he wins the heart of the beautiful woman nobody else has been successful in wooing; he gets great sex minutes before his death; and, he then gets yearly birthday parties held in his memory. What every guy wants!

I will give you that the shaving scene was really good i.e. I've often fantasized about shaving my husband with a really sharp razor... Must be tough to get around Travolta's cleft chin though.

2007-11-10T17:22:00.000-08:00

Scary on Multiple Fronts. Anna Bloviations' last blog subscribes to locally grown produce but when she goes shopping with son she is all about the $134 dollars for two pairs of pants, two pullovers, three pairs of socks, and a hat at Express. This is in no doubt thanks to Chinese workers slaving at 30 cents an hour. Scary too is that when I wrote the below blog about Chinese vegetables I got a Site Meter hit from Beijing. Hi Mr. Orwell!! But where is my friend from Georgia? Unforgiveable.

2007-11-09T05:57:00.000-08:00

See Anything Wrong With This Picture? Having just bashed Lou Dobbs for his frothy-mouthed zealotry of late, I do have to say Anna Bloviations was a bit taken aback by our discovery made of this frozen organic "vegetable medley" package from Trader Joe's. Looking for cooking instructions on the back, we found none. We put on glasses and still found no cooking instructions (obviously we missed the email on how many minutes to cook a vegetable medley). But what we did find in small black print at the bottom of the package was this:

PRODUCT OF CHINA

Now it is my sincerest hope that the product being referred to is the bag and not the vegetables given that it makes absolutely no sense that broccoli florets should have to travel 7000 miles to get to my supermarket. Actually, I take that back. Given all the sub-standard, down-right dangerous products coming out of China these days, I have a problem with anything being a product of China i.e. 'Here are your organic veggies kiddies! Never mind that they are laced with rat poison and lead that rubbed off from the package lining.... ' One more reason to buy local produce my friends. Happy Lou?

2007-11-05T17:52:00.000-08:00

Wolf Blitzer has gotta' be a robot right? Either that or the guy lives at the CNN studio -- pen between his index and middle finger as security blanket and a hair stylist sleeping at his feet. Lou Doubs is losing it and we love Jack Kafferty's dead-pan expressions.

2007-11-02T16:00:00.000-07:00

Nailing it with blind trust: "BELEAGUERED REP X BEATS BACK BEAVER BIGOTS' BARBS AND BEDAZZLES BOWLES". Our boss got the job (and no that wasn't a real headline...). But now Anna Bloviations hears that we may not be brought on immediately. In government, the feathers of the defeathered must apparently be deruffled (gradually). Frankly, this is the phase I call the dick-swinging-regatta. It would also be the reason why the boss needs Anna Bloviations on day one as opposed to January or worse March '08. Anna Bloviations has been through enough software industry "transitions" (translation: cluster-fucks) to know that this is the time that every VP-wanna'be starts coming out of the woodwork to position him/herself. Our boss, a State Representative for sixteen years and who has only faced one serious challenge could really use a person who knows how to put the beaver hunters in their respective beaver traps. But it is what it is. And we'll see... It now comes down to trust that someone who says they want you as their Chief of Staff will go to bat.

2007-10-31T05:00:00.000-07:00

Beaver Epidemic. Of sorts. Never knew Massachusetts had a beaver epidemic until this week. Turns out my boss and some farmers crossed swords over beaver trapping a few years back and it is now necessary to dispel the erroneous myths which might derail my boss a commissioner's appointment. The memo, written by a woman whose only encounter with beavers has been via underwater cameras courtesy of National Geographic, was dropped off yesterday to the head honcho of our boss's fate, and by Thursday we should have this baby wrapped up one way or another.

More than surreal. Now and again Anna Bloviations checks out TV. Usually my strategy is to flip through channels randomly until something catches the eye. Last time it was the Over-40-Women's-Bodybuilding-Championships. We were more methodical this time. We caught up on the ever brilliant Bill Maher before jump-shifting to another HBO series called Tell Me You Love Me. Wow. Now that's explicit stuff... In fact one wonders the contortions necessary to look like you're really having sex without really having sex (or maybe they are having sex!). As the finale, we watched Marie Osmond's comeback on Dancing with the Stars...A very strange television threesome but then this is also the person who thinks it so very odd that a million people show up to Boston wearing red and painted faces to cheer wildly a bunch of guys who swing a piece of wood for a living.

2007-10-23T14:42:00.000-07:00

Bet if Rev. Jerry Falwell were still alive he would be saying that the fires in California are God's just punishment for that liberal state's wicked debauchery and liberalism. But he's not still alive. Which isn't to say that I don't bet that there aren't plenty of "Christians" out there who don't believe California isn't getting what it deserves.... Of course, tornadoes or floods that hit their neo-con states are just tragedies and God's devine and mysterious will....

2007-10-22T18:54:00.000-07:00

Spices. Based on an un-scientifically-backed NY-Times Sunday magazine article, Anna Bloviations bought into the notion that it might be wise to replace every herb, spice, and soup enhancer packet in the Anna Bloviations' kitchen cabinet. It makes perfect sense that having something edible lie around for years might not be the best of worlds. Cost? Around $50 to change out dried basil, bay leaves, cilantro, oregano, cumin, turmeric, tarragon, sage, mustard seed, ginger, tarragon, cinnamon, fennel, celery seed, parsley, chopped chives, Cajun spices, cayenne pepper, and, oh yes, salt. We explained this to the check-out lady at Stop & Shop. She looked to be in her sixties. "Gee remember when we just used things up until they were gone?" Well yes. Good thing? Or bad thing? Needless to say we have no excuse that dinners won't taste fab.

Spunk. The new $75K job may or may not be derailed by three backward hillbilly farmers from western Massachusetts concerned that our Rep might be too pro-environmental for the job. Good grief. Said Rep couldn't be pro-environmental enough to get the agricultural viability of MA up and running again. We will be so pissed if these idiots succeed in their efforts.

Sport. While everyone else on the planet of Massachusetts was watching the Red Sox bat their way into the World Series, we were reading the most fascinating article about water (or the lack thereof) in the western states (California, Nevada, Arizona). And then today about the sinking water tables of the Great Lakes. Let's not forget Lake Lanier about to render 5 million Atlantonians mighty thirsty. Forget oil. WATER will be the World War III of all time and it might even be a neighbor right next to you siphoning your garden spicket...

2007-10-18T04:00:00.000-07:00

Bill Maher took some of my thunder away on his last HBO show i.e. what I wanted to say he basically said already but let's say it again: Bush, for once, is right. The 11%-popular Congress REALLY has much more pressing matters to contend with than worrying about what Turkey did to the Armenians in 1915. The absurdity and arrogance of it is astounding.... Particularly that Turkey is our ally. Said Bush, “One thing Congress should not be doing is sorting out the historical record of the Ottoman Empire.” Give a pat on the back to your speech maker on that one Georgie.

2007-10-15T14:57:00.000-07:00

We spent the day 'nesting'. It's what a lot of women do when they are under stress. Let the world be falling down around you but as long as your house is clean everything will be fine. So rather than taking the bull by the horn i.e. learning everything there is to know about the Massachusetts Department of XXX, or brushing up on advanced Excel and other nifty applications which would surely make Anna Bloviations's professional life much easier when she is suddenly thrust into the roll of Chief of Staff, what do we do? We take our German-made Miele vacuum cleaner and suck up the au-naturale Halloween decorations which have festooned themselves oh so naturally into various hard-to-reach asymmetrical vaulted ceilings of Anna Bloviations's living room, dining room, hallways, and bedrooms. We then take an old toothbrush and clean the design-challenged crevices of faucets, light switches, window sills, and mostly-made-in-China appliances (yes we mean you Jenn-Air and Magic Chef). We snip dead leaves off house plants and sew loose buttons and torn shirts. Old clothes are purged; the summer keepers are stored. Fall/winter clothes are sorted. We take a short break and insert masturbation-stimulant CD #4 into brain. Good choice. We then open cans of paint and touch up nicks and boo-boos. Every wood blind is wiped down and every top-of-a-picture-or-painting-frame dusted. And yes, this is the part where we would love to invite every person we know to admire the results and eat off of the floor. To boot we've made a To-Do list: call lawyer and have them send our $650-expensive will and testament i.e. why should we have to stop by to pick it up; call the gynecologist for a check-up and schedule to have I.U.D. removed following advice of sister-in-law who says an I.U.D. that has been in as long as mine kinda' needs to come out...; get the rust spot on the BMW touched up. Then call the cheorgraphers above and ask if this is some kind of joke segment of my life...CD #5?

2007-10-14T16:07:00.000-07:00

Boy that last blog makes me sound like SUCH an Ueber-brat. Apologies. But it is all relative they say...

2007-10-14T14:01:00.000-07:00

Poised but Petrified. Over the last week or so, Anna Bloviations has been heavy into employing her master persuasive skills so that by November, Anna should be Chief of Staff at a certain Massachusetts governmental agency. From a doing-something-meaningful perspective, we are thrilled to soon be part of it. To boot, we will be going from a measly $31K to $75K a year salary. OK, still pathetic compared to almost everyone we know yet on the other hand, we're not likely to get laid off in six months either. But between you, me, and cyberspace, Anna Bloviations is starting to panic and it has nothing to do with the fact that we are not particularly a domain expert on the stuff we will be dealing with. No, we are panicked at the thought of revving up from 2 1/2 days a week (which technically made our measly salary $62K) to full-time, full-throttle kind of stuff. And we will be working for a boss who is brilliant but a Neanderthal when it comes to all of the things that would ease our lives in this position i.e. typing with more than just an index finger, cell phone savvy, and knowing that a Blackberry isn't just something you add to your cereal, etc. The minute I start this job I'm getting a house cleaner. And possibly a weekly massage...

2007-10-07T05:51:00.000-07:00

Somehow Macarbre Over the Last 24 hours
A silver-glitter birthday card to Anna Bloviations from the law firm that just completed a will and testament for hubby and me.
A Council on Aging and Elderly Affairs Recreation Facility in Salem located right next door to a cemetery.
Kids (usually boys) who wear really cool (and expensive) Bern bicycle helmets with the chin straps flailing in the wind unbuckled.
A brother-in-law who is literally losing his liver (and soon his life) to alcohol abuse checking into a hospital because of a skin rash....

2007-10-05T16:36:00.000-07:00

Lot of Living... i.e. last three weeks as follows (keep up): arrival London to Rothbone Hotel. Standing ovation at London's rendition of Wicked. Indian food. Indian food again. And the obligatory walk along the Thames whilst admiring London girls with their cuffed hot pants, stockings, and boots. Everyone's smile is improving in the U.K. too. Copious wine. Then to Majorca replete with many Germans and Brits but at least they keep the island clean. Cobbled sidewalks and rich rose-colored stucco architecture, olive groves, gloriously dry September summer days sans bugs. Copious wine. Watch the jelly fish. Then to Salzburg (hiking in the alps), Wagrain (hiking in the alps), Vienna (incredibly dysfunctional visit with hubby's incredibly dysfunctional family), and back to Salzburg (more hiking). Copious wine supplemented with Austrian chocolate that did no harm for all the hiking.

Mountain of Life. Go away for two weeks and the mountain of life that awaits you upon your return makes the Austrian alps look like mole hills. Job front? Hubby moves on AGAIN from yet another psychopathic software company. Anna Bloviations moves on too. She arrives home to 1) find her newly-painted house beseiged by woodpeckers intent on obliterating the house in Hitchcock fashinon (did you not wonder at the rapping noise son [who took care of the house?]), and 2) to find that her boss has an imminent appointment under Governor Deval Patrick and that she has been invited on board for nearly double the pay. OK I can do that... Can I wear my Ann Taylor suit on a farm do you think?

Daughter turns 21 (see pic). So nothing to hold me back on the career front other than 14-year-old Australian Shepard Heidi. Poor deaf girl. But still in good enough shape that Anna may not play God yet -- but rather find an appropriate dog walker during the day...

2007-09-11T15:32:00.000-07:00

IN THE NEWS

Coincidence? Surely it is just coincidence that so many of the latest magazines are swathed in foreboding black and white covers of failure, doom, and crunch time. Do these mags spy and then copy each other? The same thing happens with fashion too. Do Ann Taylor, J. Crew, Banana Republic, and the like all get the same email as to what colors to use and whether pants will be flared or straight?

The Mormon Thing -- and is it just my imagination or does CNN.com every day have yet another story on boy teen Mormon cast outs and girl teen Mormon run-aways. Couldn't possibly have anything to do with Mitt Romney running, could it?

If Britney Spears goes off the deep end it will because we have collectively driven her off the cliff. I can think of few pop stars the general public has so relished in seeing go down....

Inspiring college professors who teach 'Health and Wellness' classes (you know those stupid filler elective courses kids' parents pay thousands of dollars for) should better be held to some ethical standards here... It's GREAT that you are teaching my daughter that trans fats are bad -- along with hormone-ridden chickens, overly-processed foods, and grain fed cattle BUT THEN PLEASE GIVE MY CASH-STRAPPED CHILD ALTERNATIVES AS TO WHAT THE HELL SHE IS SUPPOSED TO EAT. Good the hell grief. And it was only yesterday (my childhood) that the best thing a mother could do was to place a nice T-Bone steak on the dinner table.

Off to London, Majorca, and Austria next week. Am particularly looking forward to Majorca.

2007-09-05T18:01:00.000-07:00

There's that U.S. Open tennis going on right now. Not that we are watching it. Just interesting from the standpoint of listening to John McEnroe give the sideline entertainment. He might or might not remember a brief interlude in New York in 1979 with Anna Bloviations. We hooked up at the Plaza Hotel when the Plaza Hotel was still a hotel and there was a small little boutique called Mark Cross where I worked (later bought out by Coach). In he came and we started chatting and then 'dated' for a bit if you can call a guy so focused on tennis as to be completely bereft of anything one could remotely call social graces (yes, he's come a long way since then, considering). Quite good in bed I recall just for the shear fact that the guy was early twenties and in the best physical shape one could imagine. He got a little touchy about his hair though.... Worried that he was going to go bald and so got bent out of shape if you pulled at his hair during an orgasm. So either he wasn't going bald after all or he has since gotten really great hair implants.

2007-08-27T16:34:00.000-07:00

Alberto. Goodbye and good riddance to you, Alberto Gonzales. I've been waiting months for your incompetent ass to go down. Bush can try to spin this how he wants: historically your footnote will be mud.

August. We have spotted a slow trickle of tanned state employees wandering the echoing hallways of the State House. Must mean Labor Day approaches.

Aberration. The daughter goes off to finish her last year of college even so she started just yesterday. She leaves me with a pile of summer reads (I've counted fifteen books) that will be added to the five or so we still haven't finished from last year. The tape measure of life will be a different one for her now... one where things are measured in decades (your 20's, 30's, 40's, 50's, etc.) as opposed to those staccato segways of childhood, where everything is measured by the number of birthday candles on your cake.

Accolades. To the son who landed a job sooner than we could have ever hoped and starts September 5th. May it be rewarding. And may he remember to take out the trash and make his bed whilst saving money living at home...

AA. We may need to become a member at some point if hubby and I don't get out of this spiral of existential angst we always feel -- the root of which are the software industry wolves constantly nipping at our attempts to enjoy our sanctuary of a home in some semblance of financial secucrity.

2007-08-14T08:05:00.000-07:00

Behind the Bonnet. No this is not your first glimpse of Anna Bloviations. We would be the one hidden behind the voluminous straw hat. Beneath that hat and Ray Bans is the woman I have known since grammar school. We once lived across the street from one another and were and are today great friends.

Perhaps it was the daily infusion of San Francisco Richmond District fog that made us have such remarkably parallel lives. She and I both grew up to love books and writing. Both of us married Europeans and lived abroad for many years. Both of us have dabbled at careers but for the most part are highly subsidized women with a propensity for travel, beautiful surroundings, good food, and nice clothes. It all sounds glamorous but any ex-pat knows that long-term life abroad and frequent moves can be very disruptive emotionally: kids yanked out of schools, the harrying logistics of moving, the initial loneliness and displacement one feels in a new place, the moody husbands whose job positions are constantly being upended for various reasons. The upside are the many interesting people one meets. One stays in touch with them and as we all get older (and usually more financially successful), a trans-continental network is formed. Case in point is Anna Bloviations' September trip to Mallorca and then to Austria to stay with friends and family. My friend's network extends to London, Warsaw, Paris, and beyond.

Speaking of beyond, in this photo we are looking out to the Ogunquit Harbor in Maine. If I recall correctly we were discussing the delicious-looking chocolate chip cookies we had spotted in a bakery and whether we shouldn't go buy some later. We may or may not have just criticized the poor choice of bathing suits a lot of American women choose. And then there is our idea for a book -- one geared towards a niche market of 40-something women thirsting for high-end erotica to enhance their sex lives. Not that we are speaking from personal experience or anything... we just think there may be a demand given the number of women who are looking terrific well into their fifties.

2007-08-08T07:39:00.000-07:00

Relativity Mere Miles Apart. The day I was headed in to see the play, Jesus: the Guantanamo Years, I guess I didn't mention that the Blue Line going into Boston was having switch problems and a disorganized MBTA finally announcing that shuttle buses would take us to another station where we could catch the train. With a temperature read of 97-Fahrenheit, the humidity high and a whole lot of cranky mankind waiting to board those buses, I could only imagine what the bus ride would be and how disheveled my appearance once I got into town. But then kind of like having yours be the first suitcase to come off the airport conveyer, the bus door opened right in front of me and I was the first to grab a seat. This made the ride tolerable. It also gave me a remarkable view of brown bellies hanging over hip-high shorts, hip-hop gangsta' wanna-be's, and a few old craggy men and women obviously on fixed incomes. I probably didn't tell this story because I am embarrassed to admit that based on conversations I was hearing I remember thinking that I didn't think anyone on that crowded bus would ever have a chance to squeak past a $30K salary in his/her lifetime. How were they ever going to make it in an economy getting tighter and tighter. That said no one seemed terribly unhappy: people were laughing, making plans, talking about an outfit they saw, cooing a baby.

The Yacht Club. The next day we were invited by friends to have a drink on the deck of a well-known yacht club overlooking a well-known, beautiful harbor. Sipping our icy Cosmos, we watched tow-headed, life-jacketed kids help their tow-headed parents manoeuvre their sailboats back to their moorings. A lobster boat gurgled by. To our right and left were men dressed in crisp khaki shorts and logo shirts; the women dressed in casually elegant linens -- all manicured and pedicured in bright tulip reds, corals, or French white (= $100 just for the nails). I remember mentioning to our friends how bizarre that these two so different parallel worlds could co-exist just a few miles apart.

And just when I thought there couldn't be another stratosphere, I picked up my grade school friend from the airport and drove her further up the coast to stay with her friends a few days before coming to stay with me. It's her friend's 'summer' home - an absolutely stunning just-built property looking across to Misery Island (the rest of the year they live in various apartments and country homes in Europe). The house, the grounds, the pool, the furniture, their exciting life, their two perfect children and sweet live-in Au pair from Poland, the GORGEOUS husband, the money coming out of their ears, the $30 bottle of white wine they opened for lunch along with a succulent sesame chicken salad and French cheese for dessert, my girlfriend's guest room view overlooking the Atlantic -- it was all too much really and I found myself in a funk on the ride back home. A funk because there is the kind of showy display of wealth that is so obscene and tasteless (Britney Spears) you just look on with disgust. But this wealth was subliminaly gorgeous. And yet, how much is too much?

2007-08-06T14:54:00.000-07:00

Jesus: the Software Industry Years. An equally funny play might be Abie Philbin Bowman taking on his roll as Jesus-the-stand-up-comedian coming back to earth in the software industry. What better and fast way to spread the word of your arrival than as VP of Marketing padded with a budget that affords you professionally designed websites, brochures, PR agencies, conferences and exhibits. Of course poor Jesus would be faced with the problem of penetrating through the white noise of other software company claims so outlandish that saying you're the son of God doesn't sound so far-fetched. I'd like to know what Jesus would do if every year or two he got laid off because the bottom-sucker investors weren't getting enough return on investment i.e. "Look we don't even have to give those Muslim extremists a severance package; they'll just severance themselves."

Hubby has been in the software industry for over twenty years now which makes him almost as old as Jesus -- relatively speaking. The volatility of the industry is enough to drive a person off a cliff. That success is solely based on being at the right place at the right time is enough to drive a person to drinking (and we drink [Portuguese wine at $8 a bottle]). Not that we haven't done well, mind you. But not well enough that we don't hate Suzie-Nerdie-Engineering-Q who is sitting on $5M because she happened to have options at Company X when they went public. Oh I don't know... Good for her. Sucks for us. Suffice to say, I've had many a terrorist thought as it pertains to sleazy investors, slash-and-burn CEO's, and yes, just people who always seem to have luck even when they don't deserve it (or even if they do frankly). Sorry Jesus. I know revenge is a sin. Or at least I think it is. This atheist hasn't read her bible lately. I want hubby out of this business...If only my paltry-ly paid government job could cut the mustard (or part the sea!).

2007-08-05T17:11:00.000-07:00

Getting Back to my 'Luv" for the Irish: Abie Philbin Bowman (columnist and comedian) plays the son of God a.k.a. Jesus in the brilliant play, Jesus: the Guantanamo Years. He's come back to earth to get us all back on track again but unfortunately U.S. Immigration stops him in his track and sends him off to Guantanamo for the fact that he is a heavily bearded Palestinian who is willing to die a religious martyr. We caught Abie playing off-Broadway in Sommerville, Massachusetts in a hilarious, enlightening, scathing satire (if you will) on religion, world events, and life in general. Catch this act if you can. You'll even find out why Jesus is now Irish...(hint: the orange Guantanamo suit he is forced to wear).

2007-07-18T15:15:00.000-07:00

U-Haul Redemption. Upon returning to the Boston area, we discover that there are entire blog- and websites devoted to U-Haul complaints. Armed with receipts, my Buddha-calm constituent services voice, and a friendliness that belies my pit bull personality that doesn't take any s*** from anyone, I join the ranks of disgruntled customer and get to calling corporate headquarters.

To get a full refund from this miserably run company (as well as a check cut for hotel expenses incurred due to no truck being available) takes some finesse but it is by no means impossible. You just have to have a little patience i.e. be prepared to be put on hold A LOT and for long stretches of time. The best thing to do is to call U-Haul's Human Resources Department at their corporate headquarters in Arizona. But before doing this, make sure you are well prepared because there isn't really any place higher to go after your appeal to them. By well prepared I mean receipts, a succinct and summarized story, and the perseverance not to settle for less. They will first offer you $50. No that is not acceptable you must say. Then they will offer you half of the cost of your reservation. No that is not acceptable you must say. Finally you tell them that nothing short of a full refund and a reimbursement for your hotel costs is acceptable. You tell them that because you are feeling magnanimous, you won't include gas (which you would have had to pay for anyway, nor the lousy extra meals you had on the way). They will mumble that it is highly unlikely the manager will sign off on such a proposal. This is when you mumble that you are prepared to take this to the next level which means notifying the Attorney General regarding fraudulent business practices. They will hem and haw and tell you they will call you in an hour or so and let you know what their superior has decided. Bingo, you've won...

The sad part of this story is that the very people who can least afford U-Haul's shenanigans are the very people who don't have the means, time, or know-how to do what I did even so they are no less deserving.

2007-07-12T17:32:00.000-07:00

College Son is Back Home. Highlights of the D.C. to Boston area trip:

-U-Haul is an abysmal company. We didn't get the truck until a day later than promised. Too bad I didn't check out all of the blog pages and websites dedicated to bringing to light the shady business practices of U-Haul....
- The only reason son and I didn't get our asses kicked in the actually-not-so-conveniently located U-Haul place is because of what I call the 'shock' factor. Son and I looked so totally out of place in what has to be the absolute worst neighborhood of D.C. that it afforded us a grace period to walk the extra mile from a shady metro station to gangsta' pick-up point. Undercover FBI agents they perhaps thought?
-I ended up moving everything with son because his friend couldn't then come the next day (no 47-year-old woman should be hauling a plasma TV onto a truck)...
-I ended up helping son clean the apartment because his "clean" was a joke i.e. a HazMat suit would have come in handy.
-The truck had 160K miles on it; the 'service engine light' was on constantly; the interior smelled of old sweat and had fleas (I swear to god); and the floor boards got so hot you had to rest your feet up on the dashboard
-I was so physically and emotionally drained when we got home that later that evening I had a mini breakdown -- I was curled up in a fetal position sobbing uncontrollably! (my children joked later I was just trying to get out of doing the dishes that evening).

Son unloaded the truck all by himself the next day. A nice gesture but a little scary in terms of how eager he was to put his stamp on his room by moving some of his furniture into it! (couch, his bigger TV, etc.). I didn't have the heart to tell son his room looked a little over-stuffed to say the least because I do think he was trying to be conscientious in creating a little space he could hang out without spilling into our space. But my oh-so-very-direct husband felt otherwise and told him he had to re-configure because he wasn't willing to compromise the aesthetic value of our home.

So the dance has begun as we all adjust to how this is all going to work. Good thing son has an interview lined up....

2007-07-03T18:07:00.000-07:00

When the College Kid Comes Back Home. The son has graduated. Finally. Yet: no money. No job offers pursued. He has decided he doesn't like D.C.; he wants to move back to the Boston area. But he has no money. So that means moving back in with us.

Updates: son vacates his apartment a month prior to his July lease running out given that said son is behind three months rent and parents are already picking up the co-guarantor difference. Guess the son's hotel job didn't quite cover the rent; the parents cover their losses and move decidedly poorer on.

Mother goes down to assist the move out from D.C. to Boston. Highlights of the trip:
-We don't get the truck until a day later than U-Haul promises (don't ever book with U-Haul!!).
-Anna Bloviations ends up moving everything with son because his friend couldn't help out come the next day...
-I end up cleaning the apartment because son's "clean" was a joke
-The truck had 160K miles on it; the 'service engine light' was on constantly; the interior smelled of old sweat and had fleas (I swear to god); and the floor boards got so hot you had to rest your feet up on the dashboard
-I was so physically and emotionally drained when we got home that later that evening I had a mini breakdown -- following lemon sorbet ice-cream, I was curled up in a fetal position sobbing uncontrollably. (Son and daughter joked later I was just trying to get out of doing the dishes that evening).

Son unloaded the truck all by himself the next day. A nice gesture but a little scary in terms of how eager he was to put his stamp on his room by moving some of his furniture into it! (couch, his bigger TV, etc.). I didn't have the heart to tell son his room looked a little over-stuffed to say the least because I do think he was trying to be conscientious in creating a little space he could hang out without spilling into our space. But my oh-so-very-direct husband felt otherwise and told him he had to take it all back out again because he wasn't willing to compromise the aesthetic value of our home.

2007-06-25T04:32:00.000-07:00

The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollen. My red-headed, fair-skinned, French-speaking friend whose husband was recently transferred to Miami has been reading a lot of books lately... most recently Michael Pollen's, The Omnivore's Dilemma. Just a few chapters into the book, the concept of supermarket steak is already ruined. She curses that I ever recommended the book because now she'll either end up living on lettuce or having quadrupled her food bill in the hope of finding grazed beef.

I don't think it was actually I who suggested she read this book but maybe it was...hey, all these toxins coursing through my body from all of the garbage I've eaten in my youth prior to anyone knowing that it would one day short-circuit my brain neurons has made me forget... like Teflon... have you ever thought about the number of Teflon pan souvenirs that are now forever lodged in cancer-receptive parts of our bodies? Or how about all of those potato/apple peels our mothers insisted yielded the most vitamins but turns out had the highest concentration of all the legal/illegal shit sprayed on them to ward off bugs/blights/ and other crop-hindering quotas.

After I read Fast Food Nation, My Year of Meat, and an array of Michael Pollen books/articles, I've taken on a kind of diametrically opposed philosophy of 1) I spend a fortune at Whole Food Market in the 'organic' section (plus WFM has the best chocolate turtles on the planet), and 2) take it all with a grain of organic salt BECAUSE -- as my good Uncle Frank from Brooklyn used to say: "Anna.... none of us is getting out of this world alive...." Add on my anti-theistic outlook on life (it's all about disintegrating into toxin-enriched dust baby) and I figure I can eat all the corn-fed, hormone infused cow I want. Of course I am still looking for the little-pink-pill that will put me out of my artery-clogged, toxin disabled misery when I chose -- as opposed to some illiterate nursing care attendant feeding me mashed peas in my wheel chair.

2007-06-15T16:36:00.000-07:00

One Significant Step for Equal Rights: One Quantum Leap for Massachusetts’ Historic Role in that Endeavor: No doubt there are people who signed the marriage amendment petition unhappy they won’t get to decide in 2008 who gets to marry whom, but they shouldn’t be unhappy because democracy wasn’t working. In fact it prevailed brilliantly. The bottom line is that getting petition signatures is but one cog in the wheel of changing the state constitution and by no means a guarantee that a petition will get on the ballot for a vote. No matter how you slice it, this amendment would have excluded certain individuals from the same rights and protections enjoyed by others. Our state legislators, whose duty it is to vote on what goes to the ballot, gave it the resounding thumbs down it deserved. The message was clear: civil rights should not be put to popular vote. The deafening roar of cheers that greeted legislators after the adjournment of the Constitutional Convention concurred.

It is heartening that the millions of dollars that would have otherwise been wasted on pitting neighbors, friends, and families against one another as the 2008 ballot approached, may now be used towards the really important stuff like education, the environment, economic competitiveness, affordable housing -- not splitting hairs over the definition of marriage.
A big thank you to Senator X and Representative X who both stood firm from the beginning. Thank you to the founding fathers for the prescience to pockmark the constitution with enough checks and balances to weather the ever-evolving new realities of a society that no one can always predict beforehand. Kudos to the many gay and lesbian families who took the time to share their stories and whose accounts compelled just enough legislators to change their vote and keep discrimination out of the constitution (you can go to http://www.massequality.org/action/share_reading.php to get to know these lovely families too). And finally, good luck to marriages everywhere. We need all of the love and commitment on this planet we can muster!

2007-06-14T17:50:00.000-07:00

Oh We're Only About A Year Behind in Posting... Let's start with a restuarant review and then will go on to catching up on everything in between...

ZAFFERANO -- HOW DID IT END UP IN EAST BOSTON?

From London to Boston's North End, Italian-born Chef Pietro Delviscovo has serenaded some of the most demanding of palates. Situated now in East Boston, Chef Delviscovo's Italian cuisine includes his signature hand-crafted pasta, savory seafood, grilled meats, and homemade desserts. Saffron, the ancient aromatic spice much sought in dishes worldwide (and hence the restaurant's name Zafferano), adds delightful zing to several of Pietro' s dishes and brings an unusual but not un-authentic flavor of Italy to the dinner table.

The ambiance of Zafferano is elegantly understated. Crisp linen tablecloths, impeccable table-ware, cool tiled floors, and peach-colored walls make for a welcome and quiet reprieve from the 747's lowering their landing gear towards Logan Airport just meters above. Which brings us to the question as to why a first class chef ended up in this particular East Boston neighborhood in the first place.

Well let's just say that certain politicians have been selling East Boston as the next big sure-bet-wonder-Mecca, 'conveniently located just a few T stops from Boston', for some time now. But with a $1.3 billion dollar state deficit at hand, many of the urban revitalization projects meant to lure young professionals and first-time home buyers into the area have not kept pace with the hopes of entrepreneurs who took an early plunge into the neighborhood. Faltering sub-prime loans don't do much to foster restaurant patronage either. Translation: I would venture to guess that Zafferano is rarely full on any given night. And frankly, the corner on which Zafferano finds itself feels a little like a highway rest stop half-way between where you came from and where you want to be . This is a shame because Zafferano is a gem of a restaurant deserving of a more inviting (and lucrative) location.

But there we were on a Thursday night -- four of ten patrons in a restaurant that has a seating capacity of forty-nine. The good news is that the restaurant has great feng shui and so it does not feel uncomfortable even with so few guests present. Nonetheless, I would highly recommend going to Zafferano with people you like and can rely on for lively conversation given that the alternative, an atrabilious silence interrupted only by the occasional clank of silverware, might prove deadly.

Now how to describe delicious... Let's start by mopping up (with fresh-made bread) the perfect duet of oil/balsamic dressing that still lingered on my plate from what was a delectable grilled calamari and shrimp antipasto served on baby romaine greens ($12). Just to note, the calamari is served sans tentacles but in bulbous pieces atop the greens. I usually prefer my eight-armed cephalopod mollusk camouflaged to not look like the ugly creature it is but any aesthetic reservations were soon put to rest by the tender succulence of the meat, sliced effortlessly with fork and knife. Meanwhile, hubby had the minestrone soup -- a reminder that market-fresh ingredients, fine preparation, and a sprinkle of love sure do make for good soup and loud slurpy sounds emanating next to me.

For the main course I found myself in the typical Libra-esque conundrum of being torn between too many choices (entrees range from $15 - $32). Figuring that the badge of a good Italian restaurant is its carbs (something I think some of my Italian friends would vigorously dispute), I went with the seafood risotto while my girlfriend tried the fresh-made pasta and marinara sauce. To say the least, neither of us was disappointed and we were particularly impressed by her al dente-perfect, hand-twisted rotini drizzled with a fresh and zesty marinara. My husband opted for the fan of Angus Sirloin steak with asparagus tips, and my girlfriend's husband went with the wild mushroom risotto. These later mentioned dishes were purportedly excellent as well though our eating mates never offered us a bite and so I must confess that this particular part of the review is based entirely on reasoned conjecture that a regressive primal instinct to hoard selfishly that which is really, really high-quality was at play.

Of course, were Zafferano to move to a swankier location than its present East Boston one, their rent would also skyrocket. Everything else would go up with it and the affordable range of wines (between $15 -$45) would not be quite as affordable as they are now. All totaled, we spent around $110 per couple. This included pre-dinner drinks for two, a bottle of wine, three appetizers, four entrees, and a round of port for dessert. Also included was a bit of conversation with the owner (a.k.a Pietro) and his lovely wife, Giuseppina, who like to visit with guests to make sure they have enjoyed the meal. Apropos dessert, Pietro makes these as well but as tempting as a liqueur-infused sponge cake topped with a silky cream glaze sounded, we were all just too pleas antly full to go the last round.

Zafferano is a first-class, must-go-to restaurant which I hope will retain its authentic flavor no matter what location they may one day find themselves. Zafferano is located at 999 Saratoga St., East Boston, MA 02128. Tel.: 617-561-2922. Website: http://www.zafferanoboston.com/. Hours of operation are Mon.–Wed., 11:30 a.m. – 9 p.m.; Thur.-Sat., 11:30 a.m.-9 p.m. Reservations optional.

2006-10-16T14:39:00.000-07:00

Ready to Write Again. As a long-time friend whom I hadn't seen for a very long time said to me the other night at my dinner party: "You look different". I explained that it was probably the change from punky short to kind of a pixie bob. "No, it's more. It's everything. You're different". This is when Anna Bloviations' began to get annoyed as in spite of his cultured European background because he didn't elaborate whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. Rather he said, "It will take me some time to get used to you." Hmmmm. So I asked him whether "different" meant I looked older. "Well yes I guess so," he blurted before all. This is where either A) he should have quickly followed up with "but you look nonetheless fabulous" or B) hubby should have jumped in to defend my honor by slitting his throat, or C) the two other bitches at the table should have admonished his bad manners. But neither A, B, or C occurred and I was left pondering what he meant. I'm not fatter than last time I saw him. And perhaps a wrinkle or two have creviced a bit deeper but nothing out of hand. We were wearing a recent present from mother which is a chunky Gucci necklace that I suppose might make me look matronly? The Audrey Hepburn pleated, cuffed pants I was wearing? No matter, really. What guest in his/her right mind would blurt that the hostess looked 'older' after having been lavishly wined and dined! The death knoll for him. Twenty-four hours later I have rationalized away the insult by 1) proudly coming to the conclusion that what he sees different is an inner matronlines borne of self confidence, contentment, and recently derived power in my position as Community Liaison Director for Rep. X and 2) bad-mouthing my former friend as the Euro-trash backwater that he is a.k.a. post-communist Poland boy who becomes nasty when his friends become more successful than he. He is so being deleted from my Spam list of funny jokes.

Changes. Hubby starts mid-November YET ANOTHER software company bespeckled with people he has already worked with and maybe this time it will all work out and everyone will be wildly successful and we'll be able to buy an island somewhere off the coast of Africa...I will not delve into the reasons for the change except to say that my fifteen-year assertion that the software industry is full of bottom-sucking, full-of-themselves-when-really-it's-all-about-luck (i.e. selling YouTubes to Google for over $1 billion) ass-holes has been re-affirmed.

As my motherly instincts correctly sniffed, the son didn't actually graduate in May and in what goes down as one of Darwin's 2006 Stupid Awards; the son must make up one course (not even one course: a HALF a course) that he managed to fuck up. Enough said. Yes, he is still alive but barely.
Anna Bloviations has made great inroads in bringing down the evil slum lord of our town and has now moved on to embarrassing the neighboring town into paving their potholes and clearing brush that made navigating the sidewalk impossible. A handy-dandy digital camera comes in most handy, especially when two fortuitous events occur while Anna Bloviations is photographing A) a jeep hits a pothole and breaks down 10 yards from where we are standing and B) a BLIND WOMAN happens by whacking away at the overgrown brush and tripping into the street. We SWEAR we paid neither and yes, the town addressed both issues the next day thanks to the digital pics we sent.

Anna Bloviations' libido sucks at the moment but we have a theory about that too. We watch as dog Heidi becomes tone deaf, quasi blind, and confused. It has hit so fast that every day when we walk down the stairs to make coffee we yell out, "Are you still alive???" Which is perhaps on one level what we are asking ourselves. The hormonal peaks of lust just aren't as ardent anymore and we wonder if we shouldn't start visiting again erotica sites to get the juices flowing.

2006-09-13T15:59:00.000-07:00

Oh We Make Progress. I've gotten my little constituent (literally 4 ft. 11 in.) who is taking on the biggest real estate tycoon of our town (a.k.a. slum lord) a lawyer who not only will represent her pro bono but is so impressed by her due diligence that he has offered her a job as a paralegal. The bad slum lord in question today left a message on our work voice mail to the effect that how could we possibly be helping a woman "of her echelon?"

2006-08-24T16:48:00.000-07:00

Life is a funny thing but I don't want to talk about that right now. Rather, Anna Bloviations would like to instead focus on her new-found role as Erin Brokovich. Well you see August is to put it mildly a slow month at the State House, so what better to do than take down the biggest S.O.B. real estate holder in Town X for his unscrupulous and intimidating tactics. We have discovered that the majority of Evil Landlord Greene's tenants tend to be single moms who can barely rub two nickels together let alone muster the energy to complain about an inch-and-a-half thick worth of building code violations. That is until Dineen came along. All of four foot eleven and with a three-year-old in tow, she isn't putting up with Landlord Greene's slum lord ways. But it ain't easy. She is juggling a job, day-care, and meager pay checks. Landlord Greene is confrontational and has a scum-bag lawyer to boot. So Anna Bloviations took the first step and went to testify on behalf of Dineen based on my extensive conversations with her when she contacted us.

Sitting in the courtroom for over an hour before the judge heard our case (there were three criminal proceedings prior to our civil hearing) I was struck by the fact that our entire judicial system is now premised on the notion of keeping whacko criminals drugged until they can get a court date to stand trial i.e. an actual conversation between the the judge, prosecutor and defense lawyer revolved around whether criminal X could be trusted to be in a low-security environment and have the discipline to take his 29 meds each day that would prevent him from perhaps reenacting his first crime of vehicular homicide (while intoxicated), taking a CHAIN SAW to his parents home and then stealing a big-rig truck, driving it up to New Hampshire to cause thousands' of dollars of damage crashing into cars, buildings, and lamp posts.

But I digress. We were talking about 4 foot 11 Dineen who bravely stood her ground against sleeze ball lawyer since we have not yet found her a pro bono lawyer to represent her (but we will....). She called me to the stand and I responded at my most professional and articulate best. By the fourth question sleeze ball mumbled he had no more questions. He then paused and said, "I'm sorry.... I didn't catch your name?"

No sooner did I get home when my constituent called to tell me that pyschopath Landlord Greene was flaunting his restraining order by sitting in her driveway staring up at her window. It should be noted that the kind of restraining order Dineen got is unfortunately toothless in that there is a clause that says that the landlord is allowed on the premises to conduct "landlord duties". Nonetheless Evil Landlord Greene is doomed on a number of fronts. Dineen keeps meticulous notes, saves all voice mails, takes pictures with her cell phone, and calls god and the world for help. For instance we are in custody of a letter that in paragraph three states that her "actions will have fatal consequences" (written by Greene). Not the brightest bulb on the street this landlord. There is the fact that Dineen was paying gas for the whole building. There are the rodents. Oh and did we mention the lead paint? The list goes on. Plus she has Anna Bloviations working the background. This guy is going down.....

2006-07-09T18:09:00.000-07:00

Severe Head Blow. On July 9th Anna Bloviations signs off from bloviating (or maybe not but we are definitely taking an extended break). We concentrate our efforts instead on once-and-for-all our attempts to write a book. Perhaps it will be titled: My Year as a Legislative Aide (that said the plot line may be too boring to be believed...). Or, it might be called: What the Venture Capitalists Don't Know About the Start-Ups They Are Investing In (from the perspective of a VP Start-Up veteran's wife). Much more juicy. Peace and Adieu.

2006-07-05T16:03:00.000-07:00

Lucky Bastard: Kenneth Lay
Losers: the lawyers who will not be able to appeal Kenneth Lay's case
Mexican Help: Moi. Or so says daughter based on Anna Bloviations' summer tan
4-T-H Highlight: Anna Bloviations 'whooping' on the deck of the yacht club to which we had been invited whilst stodgy, jaded old farts sat and said nothing.
Momentous: The son has returned to D.C. to stake his claim and make his way. Anna Bloviations has unpacked the HazMat suit to fumigate his twenty-something-mixture-of-sweat-hormones-and-sleep odor in time for the long-overdue visit from Anna Bloviations' mother. And maybe her step-father although he is keeping us on the edge of our seats.
World Cup Soccer: It is quintessential how well it mirrors the European outlook to life. Play well --including the fine acting skills that will convince the ref you've been egregiously fouled even so the other guy never touched you. This is not unethical -- just good finesse.

2006-06-30T06:58:00.000-07:00

A Day in Iraq. Never good idea to go to a women's summer wine soiree when one of them has a son in Iraq. Especially when the son is in the 1st Battalion 25th Marines deployed in Fallajuh. Especially when the woman is articulate and can paint you a picture what you might feel if your own son were there. Suddenly pretty pedicured feet seem rather trivial and what happens is that you wake up the next day with a wicked hangover.

Certainly the 'Support Our Troops' magnets stuck to the back of SUV's seem pretty pathetic compared to the young soldiers who are enduring average daily temperatures between 105-120 degrees Fahrenheit. The sandstorms that blow in can immobilize a unit for days -- the fine grit gets into hair, eyes, mouth, and machinery alike. Showers are a rarity (on average once a week) and the packaged food they receive at meal time about as edible as dog food. The men carry backpacks weighing up to eighty pounds (Linda's son lost 30 pounds the first month of his arrival). Most of the men get about 3-4 hours of sleep a night -- the rest of their time is divided between their active shifts and/or being called to support other troops under attack. They hate the Iraqis and most could care less about the politics that brought them to Iraq in the first place. What gets them through the ordeal is the concept of the buddy system. The men form extremely strong bonds with one another. Their sole mission really is to look out for one another.

A Subsidized Military. It is really the loving generosity from families and friends that sustain these young men. Weekly packages are sent containing supplies of all kinds, from basic food to bullet-proof vests that actually work. And thank god for the internet. The 1/25 Marines website is an invaluable resource for the families of soldiers now half-way through their tour. Since Linda's son started seven months ago, his unit has lost five of their men in roadside bomb attacks.... The website: 1st Battalion Marines Official Website

Footnote: When Linda asked her son if he hadn't at least enjoyed an excursion that took him along the Euphrates river he replied, "Not really Mom. The river is full of dead bodies."

2006-06-28T14:52:00.000-07:00

How About a Foot Theme for the Week (or maybe not): These this-morning-French-pedicured feet will momentarily go out the door to a wine soiree made up of other forty-something women for what is our weekly summer (what summer...) wine soirees. Rule: when you've just pedicured your toenails, you always wear open-toed shoes to show them off....

2006-06-28T10:09:00.000-07:00

BEHOLD THE 8 A.M PEDICURED FOOT (or Anna Bloviations with too much time on her hands on her day off). OK, ok, so the little toes are permanently scrunched into the shape of black-eyed peas but otherwise we like our feet immensely. They have served us very well too, having jogged Golden Gate Park, walked Vienna, hiked the alps, swum oceans and pools, carried the extra weight of pregnancies and toddlers, crammed themselves into uncomfortable ski boots, and borne the brunt of falls, bee stings, slivers, cuts, and general negligence. Today these feet track about 15 miles of power-walking a week plus the daily trek from the subway station to the State House. They don't complain much about the high-heeled shoes we wear; they are bunion/callous free. As far as Anna Bloviations is concerned, they are smooth-all-over kissable for those with a foot fetish. Guess it's a sign of being forty-something that our most well-pampered, least sagging feature are our god-d**** feet...

2006-06-26T16:53:00.000-07:00

Walking the Line: No, not the Johnny Cash movie -- I mean life... In our puritan New England surroundings one might call hubby and me border-line alcoholics. Transported to Paris we might just be living normally and good-grief why don't we smoke? At the other end of the spectrum, in a Muslim country we would be flat-out flogged.

Admittedly, wine is integral to our lives -- in fact I couldn't actually imagine an evening without several glasses of it. This clearly constitutes dependency. That said, there is some relativity to the dependency aspect in that the French might say that wine is as integral as good food, beautiful surroundings, family and friends -- a taste odyssey not to be denied any human on a daily basis.

Bottom line: we admit that our wine does indeed numb certain aspects of life that become cumulative pressure points for Anna Bloviations e.g. the ugliness of the commute, the ugliness of how mankind treats one another, the ugliness of how mankind treats the planet. In essence for every evening that a glass of wine washes down a delectable dinner, two or three glasses of wine on another night wash down our over-sensitivity to a world we think mad.

But Anna Bloviations' life is relatively speaking wonderful. In a subjective kind of way. No let's qualify that: it is wonderful in a way many people would covet. Safe to say Anna Bloviations will successfully ward off any propensities to go over the edge into a daze of alcoholic stupor any time soon. Which is the only way. Not so for her youngest Austrian brother-in-law who has become a raging alcoholic we hear. He sits every evening in a Viennese 'Gasthaus' and drinks the place to a whirling, incoherent close. His alcoholism has made him paranoid i.e. the family is at fault for his woes. He weeps. He is alone. I think about him a lot now. Wine, like all good things, can tip precariously to darker sides dear friends. Coming from a long line of 'border line alcoholics, we see this painfully clear I'm afraid.

2006-06-24T06:41:00.000-07:00

Local level: town residents are allowed to drop off four cans of latex paint to the dump daily. Anna Bloviations has about twenty or more in her garage, most of which were experiments for the new house. The offer to pay the town dump the money I'd be spending on gas to transport four cans of paint each so that they'd take them all at once was beyond their scope of comprehension. And our dear planet is that much warmer for their incomprehension.

The Massachusetts government hard at work: the Representative from Revere has submitted legislation to make the Fluffernutter sandwich (a concoction of marshmallow fluff and peanut butter) the Commonwealth's sandwich....

The federal government hard at work: the son's new US passport arrived (finally). Except oops. Somebody doesn't know their geography very well. Instead of being born in Austria, they wrote Australia...

Media Manipulations hard at work: the slow but incessant drum beat has begun i.e. how do you make sure the Republicans don't go down in flames this upcoming election? Fear. And the stories have started. A group 'with possible terrorist links' arrested here. An evil plot uncovered there. We're winning; we're winning: just stick with us and we'll win....

2006-06-21T16:19:00.000-07:00

Let the Dog Sniff Me... i.e. according to Harper's Magazine stats, certain cancer-detecting dogs are more effective detecting cancer than anything modern western medicine can bring to the table. They're cheaper and cuter too.

After many years not bothering to go for a mamography, peer pressure finally cajoled me into going for a check-up. Geez, what a f***** scam. Here's what happens: they change you into putrid-green gowns of such an unbecoming shade that you begin to feel sick even if you are not. Then they make you wait with Judge Judy blaring her verdicts on the TV to barely literate morons. So now in addition to feeling sick, you are starting to go insane. You begin to leaf through old editions of House Garden and Ladies Home Journal -- insipid enough fare that you can't quite get the other women in the waiting room out of your peripheral. Are they there for just a routine check? Which one discovered a lump?

Anna Bloviation's was in for boob-squeeze Numero 2 after a nurse called to leave a soft-spoken, urgent sounding message that they would like to take a look a the right boob again following boob-squeeze Numero 1. Reluctantly, we enter into the boob imagery room and submit to painful sessions of trying to squeeze really-rather-petite boobs into 21st century machinery not much different from torture stretching machines of medieval times.

Suffice to say, Anna Bloviations has no intention of ever again submitting her right boob to any kind of machine intent on squishing it to painful submission. Especially given the aftermath. The aftermath entails sitting in the waiting room wondering what is taking the radiologist so long to diagnose your second set of pics to the point that even as a born-diehard-optimist, you can't help but begin to wonder if you don't have, gulp, the "C" word. Of course when we go across the hall to ask how much longer it might be because we've left the son waiting at Target to be picked up, we discover the radiologist and technicians having a nice chat about the Red Sox.

Now I'm on to them. They make you wait so long so you'll get frantically worried and then agree to ANYTHING they tell you they want to do with you in the future (especially if they know you have good insurance). "It'll be just two minutes," one of the technicians says gravely, but not entirely convincingly given he was just caught talking in an equally grave voice about an errant baseball player. When finally called in, the radiologist tries his best to regain the upper hand given that annoyance, rather than fear, is what meets him across the table. "Well there are these two very tiny specs which might possibly be calcium deposits. But on these other shots you can't even see them. So just to be sure we'd like you to come back in in six months....." Yeah right. I'm looking in the Yellow Pages for cancer-sniffing dogs thank you very much.

2006-06-16T14:20:00.000-07:00

Moment of Weakness. Rare, but it happens. As in we folded like cheap aluminum siding, we did... Yes the son that was to be kept in Washington D.C. is home for a short spell. He called with a gap of three or four days with no place to stay and his math calculated that a train ride home and back would be a lot cheaper than hotels. "OK", we said, "but you'll have to leave this weekend." But then we forgot that yesterday was Father's Day and how could we make him go home on Father's Day?... We also noticed what terrible care he has been taking of his teeth and so a dental appointment was made while he's here. Oh bother, 'just stay through until next weekend' we here ourselves say over a lovely glass of wine and Father's Day dinner.... We think of heavy-lifting projects we can make him do and intend to make sure he is sending out his resume every day to job postings. Something he probably wouldn't do holed up with the frat boys who invited the son to stay with them in their summer rental until the son's apartment is available July 1.

2006-06-14T16:44:00.000-07:00

BRILLIANT!!!!!!!!!!!! Kudos go to Nestle (Inc.?, LLC?). In response to recent legislation in many states banning soda from school premises (as a measure to minder childhood obesity), Nestle has launched a campaign promoting the latest and greatest in kids' drinks. Yes, water [!] is the trend drink of the moment. Packaged in a Tele-Tubby bottle called AquaPod (do they have an agreement do you think with Apple?), you could probably buy this new-fangled drink for $1.25...If I were a Town/City Water Department anywhere in the country with half-way decent water, I can tell you I'd be launching some kind of counter campaign against the absurdity of paying such a mark-up on what is in most parts of the country a still quite ubiquitous safe, healthful product...

The Awaited Pronoun. The Rep and Anna Bloviations have been wondering for weeks now if our new hire is gay or not. The Rep's 'Gay-dar' said yes; Anna Bloviations wasn't so sure. But hints were definitely dropped i.e. he let us know he was joining friends in last weekend's Gay Pride Parade in Boston. OK...., but the Rep often attends this parade and he's not gay so it doesn't necessarily follow that our new guy is gay by association. By experience, when a gay person wants to let you know they are gay, they at some point in a conversation non-chalantly drop the he/she pronoun i.e. he/she says: "Yes, this weekend I celebrated six months with my partner [almost the pronoun but not yet]. He's/She's just so great... I'm crazy about him/her." OK there it is. Thank you. Got it. But our new guy went about it a different way (we should mention as a matter of interest that he is from a family of eleven -- eight of whom are sisters -- Believe it or not they are neither Catholic or Mormon). But we digress. He says to me today, "Do you know the nearest place I might pick up a copy of the Improper Bostonian?" I suggest the Omni Hotel and am clueless to the direction of his inquiry. After lunch he comes back and flips the procured magazine to the back section. "Here's a picture of me and my friends!" he exclaims. The poor boy (all 25-years-old of him) is shaking as he hands me the magazine. I smile and look at the photo of him and two friends. His friends are two males. The backdrop of the photo/story is a hot new gay club on Boylston Street in Boston. We think briefly to the recently featured article in D.C. where Anna Bloviations' son's 'wingman'/hetero-sexual lifestyle was so prominently featured. Difference? Well, the son gave his name to the reporter for one thing (but not his picture). My guy at the State House didn't give his name (but there was his picture....) Is the son any more stupid than our newly hired? Hell if I know. I know both are smart. Both are charming. Both graduated college. Both are trying to make their way [our guy at the State House moved to Boston because his brother had cancer and he wanted to be closer to him]. Both obviously get drunk at bars and don't make the wisest of decisions vis a vis the press....

2006-06-13T05:54:00.000-07:00

As Beautiful and Fragile As A Day. This beauty in Anna Bloviations' garden will be wilted by tomorrow i.e. the grand peony's bloom is especially susceptible to gravity -- the stems simply too slender to hold the weight of these showy petals. But on just the right day, these flowers are a breathtaking sight. And today is that day. A day we don't have to go to the office. And while puttering about, we will try not to worry about the new CEO at hubby's software company who is bound to wag his penis around like a usurping young male lion marking its territory -- another turf fight in the making and one that surely won't be pretty. And when we know that turf war is just over the hill, this blooming peony looks especially vulnerable to wayward piss....

2006-06-08T04:12:00.000-07:00

Hooked on Craigslist.com. There just isn't a better medium to hook up buyers to sellers who live in the same area i.e. my portable A/C listed Friday evening and twenty minutes later a guy from Wintrhop emailing interest to buy it. It is also how we found the young lady from Siberia who is now the official webmaster for the Representative's website. It will hopefully be a promising site for the son to find a job in D.C. (he can't play the wingman game all of the time after all).

Cell Phones and Google Maps. Perhaps no better way to help a wayward commuting daughter find her way home again in the lashing rain. Especially that borderline hysteria and incomprehensible sobbing are not conducive to asking strangers for directions.

A Whole Lot of Quality B.S. When the head of the business office marched upstairs to have someone in our office explain why it was we needed an extra computer, it was admitedly sheer luck that the Queen of B.S., Anna Bloviations, was on hand to confront the tough cookie from Dorchester. Her piercing blue eyes never wavered from my face -- clearly she was looking for tell-tale facial features that would indicate a yarn. You couldn't hear a pin drop in that office as I stared right back into don't-mess-with-me lady's face and used words like 'the inconvenience of toggling between applications' and 'a designated computer used solely for tracking legislation and budget items' etc. She asked all of the good hard questions like 'why can't you just minimize the applications you aren't working on' and I shot back things like 'the fragility of Excel, memory issues, crashing, etc. 'OK I'll tell them exactly what you said' she Dorchestered. We don't know who 'them' is but if there suddenly appears a new computer we'll know who won that one I guess.

2006-06-03T05:39:00.000-07:00

The Wingman Game was recently featured in a major U.S. newspaper. What's that you ask? It's how young college men pick up girls in bars and clubs these days. Basically a guy spots a girl he would like to get to know (translation: go home to bed with) and he makes the approach. The problem is that the girl is surrounded by a pack of friends. Wingmen to the rescue! Their job is to swoop in and distract the girl's friends long enough for the lead man to talk the girl into going home with him. The backdrop to all this consists of lots of alcohol, loud music, text messaging, and hormones.

The story would have ended there but that it featured some of the GW University crowd thus pointing a finger at the son being part of the wingman game as well. Anna Bloviations forwarded this article to a number of people and the feedback was quite astonishing. First there was hubby who started to shake his head in dismay until I reminded him that he had himself been a ski instructor in his youth, with girls as numerous as shots of Schnapps. Another response came from a friend who said, "Gee it's good they played soccer all those years when they were young. Look what team spirit they have!" Yet another friend commented, "Sometimes youth is not wasted on the young...." The most conservative reactions ironically came from the west coast. "Do we condone this sort of behavior?" asked an old school friend who herself was no angel at USC. And then there is Anna Bloviations' own mother who commented she wasn't too happy about the article. This from a woman who was part of the Greenwich Village scene in New York in the 50's mind you... It's as if we think our own sexual forays during youth are somehow above the moral fray of today's sexual promiscuity, when really a one night stand is a one night stand. Period. Perhaps the only difference was that we just never got caught on the front page of a newspaper.... In the phone call Anna Bloviations made to the son following the article, "So do you think your wingman could help you score a good job while he's at it?"

2006-05-30T17:12:00.000-07:00

So in the Sanctuary.... When there is a powder-blue sky. When it is in the mid-70's and dry. When thanks to all the recent rain my garden looks like the Cover Girl for a garden magazine. It is so hard to write anything. Don't get me wrong. It all still bloviates beneath the surface. But does Al Gore's new movie, 'Inconvenient Truth', matter to me when I am surrounded by chirping birds beneath the birch tree? .....Well of course it does matter deep down and of one thing I am thankful. The public is finally starting to get it. More importantly, corporations are starting to get it. Let me rephrase that: the corporations are not getting it from an altruistic standpoint. They are getting it the same way corporations discovered that the word 'Organic' sells. There might be a lot of puff and fluff to their efforts but efforts they remain. And we need all the efforts we can get.

2006-05-23T16:34:00.000-07:00

We have chosen a new co-worker. Which means that something akin to the American Idol selection formula has put eight other strong candidates on the bench. What made the winner win? Hard to say... Perhaps that he seems to have a very real and compelling story to go with the great resume everybody else had. Said newbie is from a family of ten children. Having studied in Virginia, new co-worker moved up to the Boston area when he found out his older brother had leukemia. He has been working at the Dana Farber Institute and helping out his brother ever since. He is tall, good looking, but understated. He has a sense of humor and just seems to be a grounded, real person. Having once interned with Senator Barrios, we are just trying to figure out whether or not he is gay. OK, I didn't say that. My progressive boss did. What would we do without un-PC humor now and again?

2006-05-21T18:41:00.000-07:00

98.2% Sure....We think that the son has graduated GW University although we are not quite positively sure. Put it this way: As of Saturday noontime, May 20th, the son had not yet confirmed that his summer college credits (summer courses taken because he bombed his sophomore year) had been applied to his official record. AND, there was the fact that he had one outstanding class marked INCOMPLETE as a result of his laptop having been stolen out of his apartment replete with his work for said class.

FRIDAY EVENING. With the status of son's graduation as tenuous as it was, the first family dinner spent with grandmother, parents, and sibling consists of a whole lot of strong drinks with a side order of appetizers. Thanks Grandma.

SATURDAY Morning. The son seems to think he will be graduating and so he and his father go to wherever they need to go to drop $50 for a robe and gown. Grandmother and Anna proceed to Georgetown to window shop. This might have been a lot of fun had not a seething hubby joined us later to recount his doom-and-gloom predictions as to son's future (which quite honestly are a bit scary considering he has neither a job nor an apartment lined up). And if that isn't enough, we get continuous play-by-play cellphone updates of the daughter's progress in packing up her dorm room to move back home this summer.

Saturday evening the troops rally because sometimes believing in Santa Claus just makes life easier. Yes let's celebrate the son's graduation and we go to the last restaurant in D.C. that will take a party of five or more and enjoy not only a great soft-shell crab pasta dish replete with copious amounts of Cabernet but great opera sung by wanna-be opera waiters who on this particular Saturday evening indulge us with their talent.

Finally Sunday morning arrives and the son appears at the hotel in robe and cap for a quick photo session before hurrying off to the Washington Mall to join his Business School comrades. His breath reeks of alcohol sustained from an obvious party which must have occurred between our dinner together Saturday and this milestone morning. Says he, "I'm already late so just come later by Metro. Of course there will be so many people we probably won't find each other..." Indeed the Washington Mall is packed and there is no chance in hell we will be able to find the son amongst the throngs of people.

OK so we make our way to the spendida White House now swathed in a powder-blue sky and wonder if the son is indeed sitting up front sweltering in black polyester graduation gown or whether we have just been scamed big-time. He calls from the cell phone to say he is sitting up front "somewhere." We while the hour-delay listening to live bagpipe music (which I'm sure sounds a whole lot better live than piped over tinny sound systems). We then endure the comedy commencement speech show called, George and Barbara Bush doing their "we've been married 61 years (hah, hah [a marriage is between a man and a woman]) routine with their poignant reminders that what is important is what goes on at the family dinner table (preferably between a 'traditional' family).

The ceremony threatens to go beyond the time we all need to head to the airport and so we make our way towards Regan Natioanl Airport before the Business School (of which we believe said son has been a participant) undergraduates are collectively honored. In terms of the son graduation we only know that we saw his name printed up in the graduation booklet. We do not know, however, if said son actually graduated. It's kind of a Barry Bonds moment if you will: Did he or didn't he?

The daughter and we sit at California Pizza, at Regan National Airport, shortly before departure. The cell phone rings. It is the son asking whether or not we enjoyed ourselves at the graduation. He says that he had wanted to call us at the end of the ceremony to come up and take pictures but his cell phone died and he couldn't reach us.

We are 98.2% sure he graduated....and as the North Shore Shuttle guy brings us back home I reflect on the day's events. I wish the son all the luck in the world and think that we are off to an auspicious start from the standpoint the son is not living in our basement. The young driver strikes up a conversation and we learn that he graduated from Cornell last year majoring in astro physics. He is hoping to land a job in a defense lab down in Virginia but is still awaiting security clearance. He tells us, wryly, that they are no doubt checking whether he might be inclined to accept a bribe to pay off his student loans. In the meantime he is working three jobs....

2006-05-16T17:59:00.000-07:00

OK, if we have to pick between college graduating seniors to fill my colleague's post -- which we do it seems because nobody else would be stupid enough to accept such paltry earnings (except me)-- then I think we have narrowed it down to three candidates. Firstly may I say that none of the women candidates got past square one. Their personalities were boring and they really all need to stop ending what should be declaritive sentences with what amounts to a question mark at the end e.g. "I did event planning for the Kerry campaign??". Ok so did you or didn't you.... My three guy candidates constitute an eclectic group: 1) sensitive, good writer, street-smart gay guy 2) very young, but very smart, very hungry, moldable, recent Trinity College graduate who is an Excel spreadsheet guru 3) well-prepared, brimming with enthusiasm, smart, but very intense personality-wise 2005 graduate.... Right now I'm leaning towards the moldable recent Trinity College graduate...

2006-05-13T14:26:00.000-07:00

Streams. Situated near the bottom of a hill, the Great Window of my home office affords me an evening view of ever-growing rivulets cascading down the newly paved road. It has been monsoon-pouring all day -- except for one light-rain reprieve that got me and the dog out for a five minute walk. The moving water is just deep enough that if you placed a paper sailboat at the top of the hill, it would sail swiftly, and crazily down to the very bottom. There are no dry patches of road (that I can see anyway) which would provide enough friction to stop the sailboat's soggy journey downward. There is so much rain that I this afternoon felt compelled to take a flashlight and peek into the crawl space of our house. Dry as a bone we are pleased to report. One more brownie point for the nuclear physicist (or was he some kind of engineer?) who designed our out-of-place-in-New-England Californian contemporary house. Our Very Dry Californian contemporary house. Not the case of my neighbors all around who have sump pumps going like mad in their Colonial-style houses with basements....

More Streams. Rivulets of soon-to-graduate college seniors have been visiting our office at the State House this week in the hopes of applying their stellar qualifications toward a job that will pay them between 29K-and 35K depending on the mood of the Speaker of the House. The salary (even if they were to get in on the high end) wouldn't pay one year of tuition at the schools they have been attending. For Anna Bloviation's it has been a surreal exercise indeed to be interviewing these candidates no older than the son about to graduate. Most are mere babes and this gives me hope that cosmopolitan, Euro-raised, older-than-he-looks-for-his-age son will blow the babes away. However four of these seniors (the son would I think not have been among them [but I'm subjectively prejudicial...]), have pulled themselves into the final round based on their resumes, presentation, and writing samples. Their final hurdle? Unfortuantely it is Anna Bloviation's.... who by the way would make a really terrible judge on American Idol: "But I like them ALL... Couldn't we just hire them all? How are we going to say no the the others?"

And More Streams. Streams of random thought: The email I'd like to send to an anonymous conservative who used to give me flak about my anti-Bush, where-are-the-WMD's diatribe. The scumbag. Scumbag only because he was so arrogant at the time and relished accusing me of being a whiny liberal. Streams: The news in the New York Times that if one had bought stock in Whole Food Markets back in 1992, one would be doing pretty well for oneself. Yes I did blog about that at one point. Not that I bought any Whole Food Market stock.... Streams: Another Mother's Day spent happily by myself in my dry, comfortable, California sanctuary in the middle of New England -- plowing through books curled up on the couch with pounding rain for music and a lovely Australian shepherd curled up at my feet. Son and daughter in D.C. Hubby in the U.K. I can't think of a better Mother's Day and mind you I love them all dearly.

2006-05-04T15:40:00.000-07:00

A Few Feet of $3,800.... Anna Bloviation's house is located on a point of sorts. This means that there are no houses on either side but what we do have is a stone retaining wall as seen here. And It wraps around the property for hundreds' of expensive feet (at least when it comes time to repairing those feet...). The snow drifts and snow plows of New England have taken their toll on our wall and as you can see dead center in this picture, some of the top stones are coming loose (multiplied by many hundreds' of feet more).

So I invited Sean (from the Yellow Pages) -- a perfectly charming man from Ireland (i.e. a land of just such stone retaining walls) to give me an estimate as to what it would cost to mix a patch of taupe-colored topcoat cement. Well he must have misunderstood me to say that I wanted a layer of semi-precious stones, not cement. $3,800?? And too bad too. I really love the Irish lilt. Not to mention that he was cute. Married, but cute. Plan B? Illegal aliens from Guatemala....

2006-05-03T09:22:00.000-07:00

Resumes in possession. Whoever the choreographers above may be, they certainly have a most wicked sense of humor.... although more wicked than humor. While the son makes nil headway in terms of finding a job or new apartment in D.C. (at least as far as I know), I have in my possession ten resumes and accompanying cover letters which I received within nano-seconds of having posted the availability of my colleague's Executive Assistant job position. Six of the ten are from graduating college seniors. Here's a taste: Christopher, Rob, Ture, Erinn, Caleb, and Joe all have GPA's 3.5 or higher with a boat-load of work experience and volunteer service to boot. Each sent me professional, tailored, and compelling cover letters along with his/her resume e.g. Caleb wrote:

"I will be graduating in May from XX College with a B.A. in Political Science, with minors in Business Studies and Writing. As noted, your office seeks candidates with strong written and verbal communication skills, excellent organizational abilities, and a sense of humor. As for the verbal skills and the sense of humor, I believe those attributes will be most evident in a meeting or interview, which we can hopefully arrange shortly. My organizational ability is best exemplified by my constant commitment to hold a part-time job or internship while remaining a full-time college student...... To emphasize my writing ability, IÂd like to stress that I take tremendous pride in my writing, both creative and academic. Through my varied coursework, I have become an especially versatile writer, adept at adjusting my style to meet the circumstances...."

Christopher's resume, for instance, has him interning with the Federal Aviation Adminstration, attaining his pilot's license, and counseling developmentally challenged adults. I would cite more examples but then I might have to go throw up.... The job they are applying for pays $35K a year -- all of the candidates are over-qualified for what the job entails.... Good grief, I think I'm starting to empathize with Tanya Harding.

2006-04-28T16:59:00.000-07:00

Nightmare Last Night: The son having just graduated on May 19th announces he is flying home with us.

Good Tag Line: Red Bull's tagline, "Jumper Cables For Your Brain."

On the Look Out: a new legislative aide to replace my colleague who has decided to attend a culinary school in NY. My progressive boss (who couldn't look more like a 50-something white conservative male if you tried) seeks a lesbian black replacement...

2006-04-23T05:29:00.000-07:00

Seven Seconds Too Busy. Picture a sunny, crisp, Saturday spring morning. Cars are pulling up to the post office -- the drivers getting out to become pedestrians for a few moments as they fulfill their postal errands. I stand with a clip board and mind you I am an incongruous clip board holder if there ever was one in that I don't have the crunchy-granola environmentalists look that would signal I want to invoke your guilt about the state of our water or air. Nor do I look like the sports mom hitting you up for new uniforms for the local lacrosse team. I also don't look like a politician of any sort.

On this day I have a decidedly well-dressed Euro-casual look going accentuated by my retro-50's black-rimmed glasses. My pitch takes not twenty seconds: "Are you a resident of Town X and if so would you like to take a moment to sign State Rep Y onto the ballot?" The old timers all get it. They know that this is a pro forma ritual that all candidates, incumbent or otherwise, must go through each election cycle: you need a minimum of 150 signatures in order to be placed on the ballot. The rest of the citizenry may not know this fact but a good portion are at least amenable to signing the petition. It fact, most do not even look at what they are signing, relying instead on my brief explanation (last year this is how a lot of signatures erroneously ended up on a petition to put the issue of gay marriage on the ballot [signers thought they were signing a petition to sell alcohol in Massachusetts' supermarkets]). A shocking number of those who walk by don't know that the Rep I mention is currently their State Rep (particularly that he has been in office for over a decade), "Rep who? I've never heard of him..." The worst though, are the women who pull up in their husband-subsidized cars, Starbucks cup in hand, and claim they are "just too busy." "It won't take you seven seconds!" I counter. "Sorry, I have groceries in the trunk..." 'Hmmmm', I think to myself. 'So our upkeep of democracy has succumbed to ice cream potentially going seven seconds soft...' Don't they know it's so much easier to eat a pint when it's a little melted?

2006-04-19T03:36:00.000-07:00

Is Bush Forsaking God? He's certainly forsaken English. Asked about Rumsfeld and the criticism he has gotten from half-a-dozen or so high-ranking ex-generals that he should be fired, he stuck out his lower lip petulantly and said, "I'm the Decider!" (then he dribbled on in syntax-stressed garble that he [Bush] knows what's best for the U.S. and for Rumsfeld).

I'm going to try that line next time there is a family fight: "I'm the Decider in the family not you!" But back to Bush. What happened to the 'higher' father he has said he always defers to? Perhaps he is part of the administration shake-up?

$2500 later, the son (my son) is back in D.C., having been replenished by parents following the burglary to his apartment -- he got a new suit and dress shirts (to interview in), new laptop (to finish his college assignments so that he can graduate so that he can get a job), a lock for his laptop (so that he won't lose his laptop again and not be able to hunt for jobs), and a head-full of lectures and advice (lest he forget how annoying we as parents are and want to move back home after he graduates).

2006-04-17T07:52:00.000-07:00

The polar ice caps have melted 20% since 1979 and this has done exactly two things as far as Anna Bloviations is concerned: it has opened up a real estate boon for the likes of those looking forward to a new Northwest passage shipping route. And, it has created fodder for the conservies who love to pooh-pooh the liberals (the one's who have been shouting about global warming for years) as whinny, hand-wringing wimps.

And what do the conservies say now that mainstream TIME magazine has picked up the story featuring a lone polar bear standing on a melting berg? PRAY!!! It's Armegeddon. ...

2006-04-12T17:42:00.000-07:00

How State Budgets Are Born. In Massachusetts we now have FY07 budget season. I will not bore you with specific numbers as I am not a numbers person. And yet (and this is a scary thought given my 4th grade math abilities), I am a cog in the wheel of the Massachusetts' State budget.

From my limited mathematical understanding, this is how it works (at least this year). The Governor comes out with a budget and the House comes out with a budget (and later the Senate). Ironically, the Republican Governor's FY07 local aide numbers are higher than the democratically-heavy House's numbers. Hmmm. Maybe Mormon Republicans seeking a presidential bid do have a heart after all....

Line Items. OK so there are these pages and pages of black and white dribble called "line items" -- these are dollar appropriations that are lumped under sub-sections of the budget e.g. Education, Health Services, Children Services, Economic Development, Transportation, Local Aid, etc., etc., etc. But these are just broad-brush-stroke numbers which serve to pit the big organizations e.g. the Nurses Association against a smaller organization e.g. the Massachusetts Rape Crisis Intervention Program. Both (as well as many other competing organizations) are then vying for a stipulated portion of money that makes up their slice of the big pie. But oh no! On top of that, each town and city in the commenwealth has its own local agenda (maybe a drug prevention pilot program in Malden or a sex education teen awareness program in Revere) nipping at the heels of the big guys trying to secure their share.

The "Amendment" (Pork) Scramble. So as soon as the budget is released, EVERY Representative begins filing amendments -- either district-specific one's that will bring bacon home to his/her constituents (to bring in votes) or those which are filed on behalf of a lobbyist (to bring in coffer replenishments). I haven't had time to do this but I think if you were to add up every amendment submitted over the course of the last two-and-a-half days, it wouldn't be surprising if the numbers exceeded the initially released budget by two-fold or more. What comes out at the end? Well after much penis wagging and groveling, the money goes to those deemed to be on whatever intangible 'winning team' of the moment there is. Note: if the amendment passes by Rep X to 'give every Massachusetts 6th and 7th grader his/her own laptop, I'm quitting...

2006-04-10T18:04:00.000-07:00

Pictures of Belize in no particular order [vacation view for 2 weeks]. The following pics are just a random selection taken while there. You will see no rain forest pics. Once I saw the ravaged red legs of folks who came back I decided the NOVA channel would suit me just fine...

2006-04-10T18:02:00.000-07:00

Pictures of Belize in no particular order [Belize suburbs]

2006-04-10T17:58:00.000-07:00

Pictures of Belize in no particular order [electrified Belize]

2006-04-10T17:56:00.000-07:00

Pictures if Belize in no particular order [soaking up the sun]

2006-04-10T17:52:00.000-07:00

Pictures in no particular order of Belize [the ubiquitously trash-strewn beach to be found everywhere Anna Bloviations has been on the planet in the last 12 years save for St. George Island off the coast of Florida]

2006-04-10T17:48:00.000-07:00

In no particular order pictures from Belize [dogs barking at a distant sailboat]

2006-04-10T17:46:00.000-07:00

In no particular order pictures from Belize [Town of Placencia]

2006-04-09T15:24:00.000-07:00

Back from Belize. Not in Boston but twelve hours and we are ready for another vacation. The daughter called in tears to say, "Don't ever go away for two weeks again!!" -- her computer has a virus and she has a strange rash... Then son calls to tell us his apartment has been burgled and he has lost almost everything -- laptop, phone charger, passport, and 75% of his clothes including the all important suit with which he is supposed to do interviews prior to his graduation from GW. Hubby goes ballistic and one sees his tan fading faster than the polar ice caps. The son is in worse shape than daughter and rightly so. Getting robbed just makes you feel miserably violated. Anna Bloviations goes into Talk-everyone-off-the-roof mode.

Since my numero uno goal is still to keep the son on a Don't-move-back-in-with-the-parents-after-you've-graduated track, I quickly assess how this latest development might impact my near-term plans. Not good I decide. He sounds decidedly morose on the phone with an I-just-don't-care-about-anything attitude. We quickly call the daughter to invoke the You-have-to-stand-by-your-brother mantra which given daughter's propensity towards empathy is not hard to do. She races over to her brother's apartment trailing wet hair and still wearing sweats to quickly haul him out of his deepening swirl towards graduation-inhibiting depression. "Come on," says little sister to brother and off they go to the mall to buy some shirts and a pair of pants to get him through the week. They get a new cell phone charger (because by god you can't be without your cell phone) and after the college senior is treated to lunch by little sister he is feeling much better.

We decide that circumstances dictate a family re-grouping and invite the kids up for 'Easter' weekend. The ulterior motive is to get the son a hair cut and a new suit so that he'll be all good to go for potential INTERVIEWS. He'll of course be subjected to a nice little lecture about in future having some money put aside to help cover inevitable mishaps such as a robbery (as opposed to spending every last penny on clothes and vacation with not a penny to ride out any kind of disaster...). And by the way, you really shouldn't buy things you can't afford to replace i.e. Lacoste polos and Brooks Brothers shirts.

Back to Belize. Friendly people. Still safe. Multi-faceted (beaches, rain forest, mountains). But doomed. The Atlantonians and Dallasites are busy bulldozing the coast to ultimately push out the indigenous to accommodate their gated communities. i.e. you won't recognize Belize in ten years. It's still worth going for the next five years I'd say. The one down-side to Belize (but not unique) is the everywhere-to-be-seen trash. Locals are as guilty as the cruise ships offshore that dump trash that ultimately washes ashore the beaches. There is nothing quite like seeing a plastic syringe tangled up in the seaweed. Essentially old plastic does not wear down to a smooth collectible, unidentifiable shape like Coke bottles of yore did. It simply stays whole and ugly. Pictures to follow.

2006-03-23T04:00:00.000-08:00

I'll admit it. Computers have become an integral part of my life. In the morning I check my three email accounts (personal, business, and junk). Then at work I am on the computer all day (emails, letters, research, databases, citations, and website maintenance). Once home I again check my computer for emails and sometimes again before I go to bed.

Computer Withdrawal. It'll be back to books in Belize. No computers. No cell phones (not that I have one). Just hubby and I bumming on the beach. I think he is more worried about the computer shakes than I am. Every day for a week now he has come home with a new book. How different we are. He picks: 'Dealing with Darwin -- How Great Companies Innovate at Every Phase of Their Evolution', 'Talking Back - to Presidents, Dictators, and Assorted Scoundrels, 'Bait and Switch - The (Futile) Pursuit of the American Dream', and finally (so far), 'Freakonomics - A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything." Classic hubby. And he will not entirely finish any of the books. He'll read just enough to reinforce his already entrenched ideas that the world is going to hell.

My books. Just what you might expect I'd pick: 'Thank You for Smoking, ' TheDevil in the White City - Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair that Changed America' (bought it for hubby because it's based on a true story but he just turned up his nose), McCarthy's Bar - A journey of Discovery in Ireland', and 'In Cold Blood' -- these picks an eclectic array of hopefully well-written books designed to take me to new realities (real or imagined). I'll be impressed with myself if I plow through all four books in two weeks. Usually tropical vacations make me quite sleepy....

Back on April 10...

2006-03-22T04:19:00.000-08:00

Surprise a.m. Bloom (wasn't there when I went to bed last night)...

2006-03-21T17:56:00.000-08:00

Her Friend Down in New Orleans. The daughter's friend signed up for an "alternative spring break get-away" which entailed a bus ride to New Orleans to help re-build homes in the aftermath of the Katrina devastation.

Well FEMA and other like-organizations could not have done a better job demonstrating their incompetence if they tried. Thousands of college students were brought down to Ground-Katrina. Said college students arrived only to discover that there would be nothing to 're-build' because zip-point-zero had been done since the hurricane hit i.e. the storm might as well have ripped through yesterday... The students were housed in tents on the outskirts of the city with not nearly enough tents to go around. Food consisted of Snickers bars, chips, soda, white bread, and occasional pieces of fatty pink substances proclaiming to be ham. On most days students were bused to areas, dropped off, but then given no instructions as to what they were supposed to do. On one occasion, the students were dropped off at a location and left stranded: No return transportation had been organized. You get the picture...

2006-03-20T18:57:00.000-08:00

There is a God [Close your ears guys]. That is to say when you get your period a week earlier than expected -- which means that your period will not overlap a week of your two-week vacation in Belize, well then you have to think to yourself...perhaps all of those furious jumping jacks to fit into a bikini did some good. Plus now I can go snorkeling without worrying so much about those pesty sharks...

2006-03-17T17:28:00.000-08:00

The twenty-something-year-old harp. An historian friend of mine argues that the concept of kids moving out by eighteen (or thereabouts) is a relatively new one. Far more prevalent throughout history has been offspring (and their offspring) living together over the span of multi decades. Great. But that doesn't solve my particular dilemma that I don't want my kids living with me. They seem ill-equipped to tend my garden nor do I see them spoon-feeding me mashed peas in some future state of dementia that I hope never to reach. That's why we've paid the big bucks: for soul enriching summer camps, body-building soccer clubs, mind-expanding tutoring, trips abroad, SAT prepping, etc... all in the name of making sure they become self-sustaining individuals who don't live in our basements at age twenty-five.

Connections help. Getting your kids out of your basements is infinitely easier if the parent(s) have connections. The daughter, for instance, just landed a great paid summer internship at a well-known Boston-based PR firm. She is extremely qualified for the job and they loved her. However.... she probably wouldn't have gotten in the door without a connection. Can we connect the son? As long as he doesn't have to email anyone (write) and can instead call them on the phone He might be ok then Even better would be if potential employers (preferably female) could meet him in person and see his big, beautiful blue eyes.

Meanwhile, the son just spent his spring break baking his ass in Jamaica for a week while the daughter (during her spring break), spent her time assuring a summer internship. Which isn't to say that the son won't pull it all out at the end (his usual way of doing business), but at this point it is nerve-wracking at best.

And then fluke things happen. The star child of our town, a young, poised, smart, beautiful college student interning in London just took a weekend jaunt to Venice, Italy. And what did she do in her drunken stupor? She jumped into the Venice Canal. Unsafe sex with six different partners would probably have been more hygenic .... Which is to say, you never know how life will turn out for anyone.

2006-03-14T06:16:00.000-08:00

Two colds in two weeks. Possible culprits: the dreary litter-strewn gray of March; The Council on Aging events I've had to attend over the last few weeks (why would they build an elderly facility right next to a cemetery as if the facility itself weren't depressing enough?); Or, the most likely culprit,: the immune-system-depleting fear that the son won't have a job nor a place to live upon graduation in May. And by the way, he certainly isn't doing anything about the afore-mentioned this week. He is sunning his ass on the beaches of Jamaica during spring break.

2006-03-09T16:35:00.000-08:00

For the Record: "Microsoft Corp. founder Bill Gates was again the world's richest man for the 12th year running. Gates grew wealthier, with his net worth rising to $50 billion from $46.5 billion. Investor Warren Buffett, the chairman of Berkshire Hathaway Inc., again ranked second; his fortune fell by $2 billion to $42 billion."

2006-03-08T16:59:00.000-08:00

In the glaring limelight of neon called a Marshall's dressing room, Anna Bloviations, at age forty-six, in the unflinchingly unforgiving depth of winter paleness, tried on ten bikinis. Eight of them made me laugh out loud but two I decided weren't so bad. Usually I'm a one-piece girl but I've decided what-the-hell. We're going to Belize end of March. This will no doubt be the last time I can get away with a bikini and not look like an utter idiot. And actually, whether totally delusional or not, I rather fancy I don't look so bad in one. Or... more likely, perhaps we don't care anymore. Or... even more likely, we need new glasses.

2006-03-07T04:30:00.000-08:00

The Wall Street Journal today reported that a couple without an employer-sponsored health plan during retirement needs to set aside $200,000 to pay for health-care costs after the age of 65, according to calculations by Fidelity Investments. I say spend the $200K on good food, good wine, an occasionally massage, and die younger.

2006-03-02T17:15:00.000-08:00

Convenient Science. Anna Bloviations attended a 'drug awareness/prevention forum' held at the high school of my Rep's (my) affluent district. Entertainment (at a cost of $1,000 for the evening) proved engaging, funny, and informative: Michael N. could honestly audition for a slot on Comedy Central. The gist of his one-hour presentation is that hitherto unknown science now shows that the human brain does some pretty remarkable development between the ages of twelve and seventeen (hence the apprehension about under-age binge drinking). In fact, new studies show that in females and males, the human brain is not fully developed until ages twenty and twenty-four respectively (damn those males). Most interesting (from a college tuition paying perspective) was the fact that undergraduate binge drinking reduces brain capacity by 10%. So.... we spend all that money for tuition only to have them come out of the system stupider than when they went in....

I had two nagging thoughts as I listened to this illuminating presentation: 1) funny that this science would come out just as it has become customary that kids live with their parents until nearly thirty years of age. What about the brains of those fourteen-year-olds who got off at Ellis Island with nothing but the clothes on their backs? Thought #2 was: gee too late. My and my kids' brains are already functioning at well below capcity. And yet, it could be worse. We could be Republicans...

2006-03-01T16:54:00.000-08:00

Loved I Two Children Equally Well, Though They Were Different As Heaven and Hell.... The one child (from the perspective of a parent anyway) is perhaps easier to swallow right now than the other . Because it would seem, at least, that she (the daughter) is on the path to self-fulfillment, career success, and independence. God, what more could a parent want... What she lacks in self-esteem and finesse, she makes up for in hard work and good values. She is a worker... She will slog through anything that needs getting done and will give 150% to get it done.

He (the son) is equally smart but does just enough to get by whilst finessing the world in his game of life. He is a player. He has self-esteem coming out of his ears and no shortage of finesse. But he does not work hard and will lie unabashedly if it suits his agenda. But it is he, not she, that often 'scores' in the game just by virtue of his connections, player skill, whatever...

She (the daughter) is already lining up a summer internship. I have no clue what his (the son's) post-college-graduation plans are other than they shan't be spent at the house of Anna Bloviations.
The better path? I have no clue. The world is much too fluid at the moment. Darwinian milestones seem to come and go at rates much too fast to determine survival of the fittest.

2006-02-28T04:08:00.000-08:00

Brown Bag Lunch. You know you live in Massachusetts when this email comes across the State House wire:

We would like to invite you to the next informal gathering/brown bag lunch for gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender (GLBT) members and staff in the Statehouse. The group get-together will be on Friday, March 10th.

We now have a permanent meeting spot. XX University has kindly offered us the use of one of their conference rooms. We will meet the 2nd Friday of each month from 12 - 1 o'clock, in ...

Good grief. This, in my humble opinion, is how minority groups loose validity -- that is when they feel compelled to congregate in support-group-like events....

2006-02-27T04:11:00.000-08:00

The Rep's website is coming along. We've gotten great press lately in the papers. We've gained new friends in our communities by doing nice things for them. And finally, when you begin to piss off the rest of your own local delegation, you know you're doing your job. "Well why didn't we know about that event," someone in the delegation will snivel. "Maybe you wouldn't mind calling our scheduler to let us know too..." Mind you no one has EVER called us from their office to let us know about anything. In fact we're usually shafted. The unspoken rule is that we're supposed to stick to our one snobby community and ignore the other two that overlap with the other Reps. Those Reps have got their own little boys club going from which our Rep is excluded. Not Irish... Well neither am I but I've worked with enough to know how to proverbially smack them upside their stubborn, misplaced-proud, misplaced-loyal heads. In fact I will admit that I love playin' these guys. Wait till I launch our PR campaign for the Rep's website....

2006-02-23T17:09:00.000-08:00

Foray into new Wine. As mentioned previously, I took a swig of Chardonnay recently and found myself upchucking a 'buttery' swill of narcissistic California: 'We've-done-a-damn-good-job-of-marketing-CA-Chardonnay swill, haven't we?' But on the other hand, my devil advocate friend likes to point out that perhaps my sudden dislike of Chardonnay is but a natural progression towards my barely suppressed alcoholism....oh thank you devil-advocate friend... "Well there's always Brandy," she says. Thanks again.... That said, kudos to lots of other wines other than California Chardonnays i.e. I THINK YOU'VE LOST YOU'RE EDGE GUYS! I highly recommend Austrian wines these days: they are not terribly expensive (especially if you get 20% off on a case) and extremely high quality. Ja wohl....

2006-02-22T15:00:00.000-08:00

Now THAT'S a happy story.... Anyone who has read 'Fast Food Nation' knows that working in a meat packing plant is one of the most dangerous, horrible jobs one can imagine. So if someone was to win $365 million dollars, the largest Powerball jackpot in U.S. history, then hurrah that it goes to the eight meat packers who participated in a company pool -- $5 in. $365M divided by eight. Not bad. Hope they have good lawyers...

2006-02-19T09:22:00.000-08:00

Oh, oh Mitt..... Our Massachusetts governor in name only, Mitt Romney, has been making preliminary rounds to test the presidential waters. Does he have a chance? I doubt it, due to what I call the M&M factor: not only does he have to overcome the stigma of being from the 'M' state, he also has to be willing to talk about the fact that he comes in as a Mormon... Bet his PR folks aren't too happy to hear about HBO's next big series about a Mormon dad who juggles life with his three wives...

In Sunday's NY Times Real Estate section is an article that touts affordable properties if one is willing to try some out-of-the-way places. Quote: "I think the biggie in Eastern Europe is Bulgaria...." adding that it has magnificent beaches as well as mountains for skiing that "you can live like a king on $10,000 a year." Yes and there is a reason for its cheapness -- it's Bulgaria -- a backward country that is the backwash of the old communist regimes....

Toggling Tastebuds. For decades I have been an ardent fan of Chardonnay. But a few weeks ago I came home to my chilled glass of Clos du Bois (or whatever the reasonably priced Chardonnay of the evening was) and choked. There is something too heavy about it now for my taste. I want a wine less narcissistic. One that after every sip doesn't scream "Here I am!" An aftertaste of buttery, oaky, whatever. Perhaps it was our week-long jaunt in Styria last September that changed my tastes. The Austrian wines are now exemplary (particularly their Gruener Veltliner and Sauvignon Blancs) -- they have all the dryness I like but with but just a quick spank of taste that doesn't compete with my conversation, or what I'm eating, or reading, or doing at the time. At the moment we are drinking a Spanish wine I discovered at our local grocery store that costs all of $6 a bottle (Osborne Solaz 2004 -- Blanco Viura). From a taste perspective this wine is in fact a bit dangerous. It's dry and light as water...

2006-02-16T18:14:00.000-08:00

OK, which is it? The last time I dragged myself to a long overdue visit to the gynecologist she told me that it was imperative I start taking calcium supplements to prevent bone loss. She also suggested I go for another mamogram. Didn't do the later but did pick up a bottle of calcium pills from Trader Joe's. But what's this I hear today? Calcium pills don't do all that much good? I swear... Just how many times do scientific studies have to flip-flop before we realize that everything in moderation is just fine, thank you very much. What's so great about being a healthy corpse anyway?

2006-02-14T13:14:00.000-08:00

It could have been Detroit I suppose. Meaning getting stuck for two days in Chicago could have been worse i.e. it could have been Detroit. Or Newark. But it was still pretty bad. One day you are in a thriving, beautiful metropolis called London -- full of good restaurants, clean and efficient public transportation systems, and a majority population that exudes civility (rugby matches excluded). You see and feel everywhere a vested interest in finding an aesthetic harmony between function and form. To then get re-routed to Chicago (because the airports in the North East are all closed due to snow) is just a sad and depressing ending to an otherwise delightful trip.

On the one hand Chicago can lay claim to some of the best and finest architecture in the United States (a lot of which dates to the 20's). But sadly this beautiful architecture serves merely as a backdrop to a city plagued with what most cities across the U.S. suffer: no money... no money to invest in roads, bridges, levees, or any other kinds of refurbishments. One can't help but think what these cities could be again if instead of spending hundreds of billions of dollars in an ill-begot war, we could invest instead in forward-thinking, sustainable infrastructures. I was certainly thinking such thoughts on the metro ride back from our afternoon excursion to downtown Chicago (because who wants to sit in a Hilton hotel all day while you hope for a flight back to Boston). The train was delayed an hour and by the static conversations I could hear over the walkie-talkies, no one had the slightest clue what to do. Finally it was discovered that a train ahead had a disabled car. Nobody seemed able to move it off the track. They finally brought in a crew that cut the car into four pieces and dragged the wreckage off the track....Well we seem to be good at cleaning up after disasters hit but wouldn't it be nice to have a more proactive approach that might ensure the disaster never becomes one?

2006-02-07T06:41:00.000-08:00

At the risk of sounding like Ann Coulter... WHAT IS UP WITH THESE FANATICAL ISLAMISTS??? Fanaticism at its worst. Innocent civilians are beheaded and the Muslim world says squat. But let a cartoon be print in a Danish newspaper (boy I bet those never-get-in-trouble Danes are reeling...) and they all go wild-savage beszerk. Following SKY News in London, I went out and bought some ham -- a specially selected cut of Danish pork leg....

London is a terrifically fun and vibrant city -- one in which you can people watch all day. And with the advent of dental hygiene in the U.K., the Brits are markedly better looking these days. One also sees new signs of a quickly changing world: steel enforced barriers around buildings, beefed up security at subway stations, security checks to get on the London eye, and of course cameras on every corner.

Movie Recommendation: Matchpoint. One of Woody Allen's best films yet. That said you would hardly know it was a Woody film given that he finally leaves the confines of NYC. Surely part of the attraction to the movie was that a good chunk of the movie was filmed within a stone's throw of the apartment here in London. That aside, Woody Allen's exploration of lust, love, and life is brilliant.

2006-02-02T19:13:00.000-08:00

Bye dog. Bye plants. To London Anna Bloviations goes. She leaves for a reprieve. She leaves a state that today in the House of Representatives passed the toughest mercury reduction bill in the U.S. Now if we can just keep Sylvania and Phillips away from the good Senators long enough for them to keep the bill as strong as it is now...

2006-02-01T04:06:00.000-08:00

So what IS it about working for the U.S. postal system that makes people go 'postal'? Anybody know?

Merriam-Webster's word of the day today is 'abulia' -- the abnormal lack of ability to act or make a decision. We hope the son does not suffer this when he graduates in May. Now armed with an EU passport, he thankfully has few excuses to not find a job. 'Try Malta', I'll say...

Just couldn't bring myself to watch the President's State of the Union speech even so I hear it was simulcast in English.

2006-01-30T16:00:00.000-08:00

Married 23 years. Or not... Part of the application process towards gaining American citizenship -- something that hubby after 21 years in America is seeking (for pure practical purposes) -- is documenting every single trip you have taken outside of the U.S. since your gained permanent residency. Well thank god for stamps in your passport (even so some countries were lax e.g. Greece and we'll never be able to resurrect dates on those). It turns out that over the last twenty-one years here in America hubby has been on business trips that add up to close to two years away from home. Anna Bloviations noted that three of those business trips were over Anna Bloviations' birthday. One trip missed the son's birthday. Countless others fell over important soccer games, swim meets, teacher meetings, and the daily mundane doings of family life. But such is life when you work for the fickle software industry. Step up to the plate or you're gone. And even if you step up to the plate you may also be gone...

Gone again. Maybe, maybe not. The latest software company for which hubby works is in flux. The good news is that after all these years we have built up a hardened resilience that will get us through whatever may come down the pike. But it takes its toll. Or maybe not. There is an expression a good friend of ours imparted to us years ago: "Once you've crossed the Atlantic, you're always on the wrong side..." In other words, if you are the kind of person who has the balls to start a new life somewhere completely different you are by nature likely the person who is always crossing some kind of proverbial 'Atlantic'. It is seemly our destiny not to know continuum for more than a couple of year's stretch. And so we may begin again.

Random Notes:

sorry Jill Carroll but stop sobbing. You are a big girl who made a big girl decision. Live by it. Or, sorry, die by it.
Kerry. Kiss any presidential aspirations you may have had goodbye. Bad call on the no-win filibuster.

2006-01-27T04:17:00.000-08:00

Also inevitable: the fact that Ford will be laying off 30,000 workers and GM has posted an 8.6 billion dollar loss for 2005. Frankly I have zero sympathy there. That's what you get for building crappy gas guzzlers. That said, the U.S. car manufacturer's business model is really no less erratic and unstable than say the SOFTWARE INDUSTRY i.e. talk about a ship without a compass and having to have extraordinary luck!

2006-01-26T08:12:00.000-08:00

LIGHT, DARK, AND INEVITABLE

Definitely Light: yesterday the State House Business Office posted an email that read, 'Has anyone lost some money??????? Someone very honest has found and turned in $$ Money $$ to our office. Thank you, Annette.' The money was claimed.

Definitely Dark: Hamas winning in the Palestinian elections -- in particular that one of the women expected to gain a seat appeared on a video tape exhorting the sons of Palestine (including her own) to gain martyrdom by becoming suicide bombers.

Also Dark and Disturbing: Rumsfeld lashing out at reports from his own top, distinguished generals that the U.S. military is spread too thin. This administration will take down anybody, it seems, in its quest to delusional victory.

Inevitable: My mother's dog may have reached a record for longevity (in April my mother's briard would have been fourteen [astonishing for a dog that big]) but finally her ailing body was put to rest yesterday. Spoiled rotten that dog was but great. Like my uncle from Brooklyn always said, "None of us is getting out of this world alive..." Goodbye Haley.

2006-01-22T05:23:00.000-08:00

In-State Tuition for Illegal Immigrants in Massachusetts. The bill proposing this went down by a pretty large margin. My Rep voted for it and has been getting flak from constituents ever since. I say it went down because of a very poor choice of wording. What Massachusetts resident wouldn't get rankled at the thought of illegal immigrants being rewarded with a college education at the expense of the taxpayer? That's what it sounds like the bill would do anyway. The reality though was to help the 500 or so undocumented Massachusetts students out of the quagmire of their legal limbo. These students were brought here to the U.S. at an early by their parents who entered the country illegally -- in other words not of their own volition. So what were they supposed to do? Well, they went to public school is what they did. They studied, played sports, met friends, and dreamed (like their legal resident counterparts) of going to college. But then they hit the wall called You-have-to-pay-out-of-state tuition. This has meant the end of many dreams to pursue higher education and many of the students in question now are at low-paying, dead-end jobs. Keep in mind that these kids can't even begin to do anything about their legal status until age eighteen and unfortunately the process can take years and years. In essence we are punishing these students for the actions of their parents who entered the country illegally -- something the U.S. Supreme court has argued is unlawful.

A study by the Massachusetts Taxpayer's Association has shown that these undocumented kids with a college education will earn about double what those with only a high school education would. Translation: millions of dollars of income tax paid to the Commonwealth. So why not let these legal-limbo students go to college? This is not a liberal versus conservative issue. Even President Bush has embraced the reality that illegal immigrants are here to stay and has proposed that we make it easier to grant temporary visas (all the better to account for who is crossing the border). A well educated and skilled work force is what will keep America competitive and vibrant. So let's next time change the wording of this bill to something that reflects better its intent. Oh I don't know: In-State Tuition for Legal-Limbo Students or something like that....

2006-01-17T15:55:00.000-08:00

Oregon's Supreme Court Upholds Right-to-Die Law. Thank you Justice Anthony Kennedy: Wine, chocolate, and a little pink pill. Just let me go when the time comes....

2006-01-16T14:45:00.000-08:00

All vestiges of college kids having been here are gone. In spite of 13 degrees Fahrenheit temperatures today we threw open the downstairs windows to air out the one-month-occupied-by-students living quarters. This was followed by afternoon sex because, heh the kids aren't here so we can romp in the bedroom whenever we want! Then roasted brussel sprouts and almost-raw tuna for dinner. The TV all for me. The silence when I turn off the TV (as opposed to it being on 24/7 whether anyone is watching it or not)...

But Anna Bloviations is brooding.... It is not the kids gone. Is it January? The nagging feeling of something imminent? Or is it the nagging feeling of something missed? We will meet a friend from Ipswich this month and then go to London to meet our best girlfriend from grade school. Replenish the soul...

2006-01-12T15:53:00.000-08:00

An EU passport to die for but... our kids have the opportunity to obtain EU passports given that they presently have dual citizenship (American and Austrian). Good parents are we that we are going through the arduous and painful process of paperwork involved in getting said EU passports. This process involves pain for parents AND kids respectively meaning that parents must sift through old not-as-organized-as-we-would-like files reminding us of where we used to live, to what places we have traveled, and the time-line of our children's lives. For the kids it means driving down a quarter of a mile into town to the photo shop that will take the prerequisite 5 cm by 4 cm (not standard) passport photos. Said kids must also pull up a Microsoft Word Resume template that will enable them to document their where-abouts and doings over their respectively short 21-year-old and 19-year-old lives. So let's have a heart attack that the passport photo guy is a bit challenged (but certainly not defeated) that he has to re-configure the passport photos to agree to the metric system. The daughter particularly seems dis-proportionately put out. My god young woman!... it's not yet a done deal but if you get this passport, you can essentially work anywhere in America and the European continent. And if you travel to Europe, you won't have to wait in those long annoying lines at customs like the rest of the fat Americans waiting to get through. Work with me girl...

2006-01-11T15:44:00.000-08:00

Wear White on the Subway. For Christmas I got a completely impractical winter-white wool coat that looks like a million dollars but my god how do you keep it clean? Well who would have 'thunk... There is an interesting thing I've noticed: when I wear my gorgeous white coat to work (which entails riding the subway many stops), I am suddenly the last person anyone sits next to.... It's as if there is some subliminal collective agreement to try and keep my coat clean by not sitting next to me. Brilliant.

Aging Notes. The wide girth afforded to me on the subway when I wear my white coat has also afforded me the time and space to people-watch... Note: men over forty-five shouldn't wear jeans nor leather jackets. They look lame. Women over the age of thirty-five shouldn't wear eye make-up save for a very subtle bit of mascara; they look old otherwise. Both sexes over the age of forty should only color their hair if they have a lot of disposable income to afford a good stylist; otherwise it looks awful.

2006-01-09T14:16:00.000-08:00

The cell phone moment of truth. The son, you might recall, lost his cell phone somewhere in New York on New Year's Eve (intoxication surely factored into the equation). We suggested to him last night that he might want to get a very inexpensive phone as opposed to the $350 one he covets. He asks why. We tell him that once his plan runs out in 8 months, we will no longer be paying for his cell phone service given that he will have graduated college and be on his own in terms of utilities (including cell phone). If he buys a very cheap phone now, he can then opt for a different plan and probably get that 'phone of his dreams' as part of the sign-up package. One must go right for the quick.

2006-01-05T16:24:00.000-08:00

No significance or anything that Yasser Arafat and Ariel Sharon are seemingly going out within a year of one another.... Now what.... As my good Jewish friend Adam used to tell me, "The Jews and Palestinians deserve each other..." May they deserve each other better than these two leaders perpetuated upon one another and their people. Peace.

2006-01-02T06:02:00.000-08:00

If there is a hell, I've always thought there would be three job options you got to choose from: working in a meat plant, toll booth operator, or doing data base entries all day. This while watching Catholic priests and all other religious hypocrites roasting on spits. However if there is reincarnation instead I've decided there is a hell to be had too: you could come back an emperor male penguin. The movie, Marching of the Penguins' shows those poor little bastards huddling for three months in 80 below arctic cold without food and balancing an egg on their feet underneath a protective sheath of feathers while the moms go back to the ocean to feed.

2006-01-01T05:39:00.000-08:00

1st brochure 2006. Here the inside section of a two-sided brochure for a fledgling local business that hired me to do some marketing for them. Time to completion 6 hours (includes consultation and edits after first design review). If we charge $25 an hour we've made $150. Hmmm. We'll have to add other projects if we want to get to 10K to supplement the State House salary... In this case, I'm not even taking cash. I'm opting instead for dog walks. Keep 'em rolling Anna.

2006-01-01T05:19:00.000-08:00

Still a Kid. The twenty-one-year-old called to say he'd left his cell phone in some New York taxi. Was he expecting I call all of the NY taxi companies' Lost & Found numbers?

Not Going Down Like That. A friend and I got on the subject of birth control and I mentioned how happy I've been with the I.U.D. which the gyno says I may keep in until, gulp, menopause. My friend, on the other hand, had her's taken out claiming it made her periods heavier. "So what are you using for birth control?" I asked. Her response was that she isn't using any. "Don't you think that's a bit risky? I asked incredulously. A pregnant pause (no pun intended). "Well we really don't have sex very often so it's not really an issue. And when we do I have him use a condom." How sad. No wonder so many people are on Prozac.

Goals for the New Year. None really. Maybe build up my free-lance writing business to the extent I can bring in an extra 10K to get hubby off my back that I should be bringing in more... Oh and maybe a little electrolysis to get rid of a few stubborn chin hairs that have sprouted at age 46. Just a few mind you. Visible in the 5X magnifying mirror. Or should I wax...