On Primping and Planting

Like many of us, Maya has a lot of carefree tomboy and a lot of princess in her. Both were out in full force this week.

In preparation for their big recital, Maya and her dance friends got all dolled up and spent more than an hour posing for professional pictures.


During that hour, I listened to mother after mother assure each other that she had always been a tomboy and this production of dressing up little girls, particularly the part about affixing the bows in their tightly pulled pony tails, was baffling. Covered in garden soil, I was among those declaring my tomboy past... and present.

She kept adjusting everyone's dresses for that "off the shoulder look" sported by Disney's Belle.

But who am I kidding. I am just as excited to clean up for a night on the town as I am to get spring calluses on my hands and black dirt on my feet.

Does Elliot look wistful or what?

Don't we all harbor contradictions like these? And aren't they delightful to indulge? Maya sure thought so!

Maya wrote the plant tags for the carrots, lettuce, and potatoes we planted. Five minutes after this picture was taken, Maya was covered in dirt. Meanwhile, Elliot baked birthday cake in the sandbox.

Pace Versus Stop & GO

Lately our pace has been full of sudden stops and frenetic gos. We've accomplished a lot, but we're suffering from it.... well, if not suffering exactly, we are tired and crabby.

Elliot can officially pedal her trike to the park!

I am a firm believer in pace. Some might say a fanatic, really. I am usually careful to temper even our busiest days with the regular signposts that keep the girls rested, fueled, and (at least somewhat) content.

The rhythmic pace of our lives is not just for them either. I have always needed quiet space, still points in each day to gather myself before The Next Thing.

Ever cautious, Maya takes her time on the big kid bike.

For a beautiful essay from the NPR "This I Believe" series, take a moment to read The Practice of Slowing Down, by Phil Powers. I heard it on the radio years ago, and still it comes to me during busy times.

After all the illness-induced stop lately, we have been nothing but go all weekend.

Two girls never enjoyed a fake thunderstorm so very much.

Somehow we have crammed in a visit to the Mall of America (I usually avoid that consumerist shrine, but once every few years is okay, right?) and its Nickelodeon theme park, dinner at the Rain Forest Cafe, an afternoon of swimming at the local pool, a bike tour of a nearby park... and that was all in one day!

We also hit several other parks, had no fewer than 5 picnics, cultivated the garden, mowed the estate, and completed hundreds of smaller projects on the to do list... plus a date night... and finally, late yesterday afternoon, we attempted an adventure day.

I didn't notice our lack of pace until the adventure day dissolved into tears, whining, and a major tantrum - don't worry, not all of the bad behavior was mine.

I so wanted to take a nice walk around the Eloise Butler Wildflower garden, and the girls just weren't into it. Perhaps that place is bad luck for me, as it was the site of one of the most memorably terrible adventure days in history (yep, I didn't blog that one).

Just as I was ranting about having to limit myself to Chuck E Cheese or the Mall of America thanks to kids who just can't appreciate a beautiful natural wonder, I realized we were simply tripping over our own pace.

The beds are tilled and fertilized. The paths are mulched and weed proof. Tomorrow, we plant!

The girls are exhausted. I failed to see that because I too was past my limit. I've been an advocate for slow living for years. Pace is the number one reason I have stepped out of the paid workforce. This weekend illustrated my point. Lovely though it was... it was all a blur.

This week's project: regain our stride.

Why the Girls Don't Watch Regular Television

We are all aware of how thoroughly saturated we are with advertisements. Even with this awareness, we all still fall prey to the newest marketing, the most up-to-date pomegranate-antioxidant juice combo or the newest kitchen gadget or that crazy new reality show we have to check out.


This effect is magnified exponentially on children. Does that snack have Dora's face on it? I WANT it! Is that Sponge Bob soap? I WANT it! A Princess t-shirt? Tinkerbell juice boxes? It all drives them into a frenzy, even when they never, never watch actual commercials. Franchise-based product labels are enough marketing for a four-year-old.

And this weekend, Maya demonstrated just how deeply these advertisements move her. We took a short road trip to Grandma and Grandpa's house where Nickelodeon is allowed an occasional appearance, complete with commercials.

Maya suddenly called me over to the television during a commercial break. "Mama, mama look at this. Just look!"

Can you guess what I saw? Not a new sugar cereal featuring pineapple-flavored square pants. Not a My Little Pony hair salon. No, the advert that piqued her interest was none other than that most alluring of products, a manual drain cleaner.

Clearly, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be looking at, so I asked her. Maya responded with the same enthusiasm she reserves for her best knock, knock jokes. With a little squeal of excitement, she said, "That spring thing gets hair out of the sink. See? It really works?" She was eagerly pointing at the odd little man in a lab coat (why a lab coat, I'm not sure) demonstrating the product.


Considering I still remember commercial jingles from my five-year-old commercial-watching days, I should not be so surprised. But seriously, we'll be working hard to stay away from any avoidable marketing!

Using What We Have

The star plaything in our house this week is unexpected. In fact, last weekend I nearly threw it out.


It is an empty Costco cashew bucket full of old bottle caps. I started saving the caps a while back thinking they might be fun for a project (as the buttons on a cardboard spaceship, the wheels on a toilet paper tube car, that sort of thing). We've used a few for projects, but they add up fast.

In my latest battle against clutter, I moved to chuck the container, caps and all, but as I did, I tiny voice behind me said, "Mama, I want dat."


Since then, the caps have been sorted by color and counted many times, cooked in a stew, batted by cats, and methodically replaced in their container. Elliot proves once again that kids can be satisfied with so little. In too many cases, that is a necessity, as for the children now living on a Haitian golf course who are still finding a reason to laugh amid so much destruction, armed with nothing more than a piece of cardboard, a steep hill, and gravity.

I cringe every time I hear the call for Haitian support reminding everyone to overcome the urge to send blankets or water and simply send cash. We sent some cash, but still the urge to provide real, tangible help remains.

Thanks to a recent Star Tribune article about volunteering with children, The Littlest Volunteer, I can put some direction behind that urge to help and a long held assumption that "someday" I would start doing good in the community with the girls. Thanks to the organization Doing Good Together, we now have many ideas that don't have to wait for "someday."

My favorite starter project is the "Birthday Party" party, where Maya and a few friends can put together birthday party kits to give to a local shelter (cake mix, frosting, candles, and an array of small gifts).

This and other ideas are small ways to give, but may use the time that we have to give our whole family a stronger connection to the world around us. The next step is simply making it happen.

Age of the Superbug

Perhaps it's time I admit it. I am becoming a germophobe.

In just 4 short years, I've made the remarkable transformation from a healthy adult with a solid (if mistaken) belief in Vitamin C supplements and the mantra that colds are for wimps to a neurotic, half-gallon-of-CleanWell-Hand-Sanitizer using, I-think-I'm-getting-a-sore-throat, Web MD obsessed crazy person.


I'm part hypochondriac, part apocalypse soothe-sayer, and part... well... mother.

Of course, it's the mom bit at the root of all my neurosis.

Before motherhood, or more accurately, before mothering a preschooler, I could afford to laugh in the face of minor illness. Before motherhood, I could curl up with a bottle of NyQuil and an Audrey Hepburn movie and sleep uninterrupted until I was healthy. Before motherhood, I was sick only once a season, at the most.

Now here I am with two little germ spreaders and our first of many expected minor illnesses this season.

Along with brightly painted pictures of autumn leaves, Maya brought us all a cold. Unfortunately, in the age of the superbug, each cold puts me on edge.

So I'm watching their colds and mine for any similarities to the H1N1 symptoms (none so far). I'm reading the literature on MRSA staph, the antibiotic resistant strain that my neighbor recently contracted and we should all be concerned about. And I'm scrubbing every frequently-touched surface I pass. Thankfully my favorite cleaning product, vinegar, is purportedly a great germ killer as well, so I don't have to depend on those nasty chemical companies.


I ask you, how does one find the zen in germ warfare? How much yoga do I need before I can resist the urge to don a gas mask each time Maya wakes up with the sniffles? I'm off to find out.... :)

Hmm, maybe I'll swap the yoga for banana cake and peanut butter frosting, as long as the cooks wash their hands!

Well, then, there is your dose of crazy for the day. And mine too!

Clean and Green

Elliot's birthday week is just about to begin, and I've adopted the event as a perfect excuse to get my fall cleaning projects accomplished.

I finally found the time to literally green up my kitchen, with a couple coats of Dutch Boy's Refresh, an easy-to-find and affordable low VOC paint that was detailed helpfully on Tips for a Greener Life.

And after cleaning and painting one room, I grabbed the sample bottle of Eco Store's Antibacterial Spray Cleaner I received a few weeks back and really put it to the test.

Eco Store approached me with the opportunity to try a couple of products, and I'm now quite thankful they did. Their products are all plant and mineral based, rather than petroleum-based, totally free of anything nasty, and surprisingly effective. Beyond just cleaning products, they offer hair care, pet care, baby care, and bath supplies as well.

I'm definitely going to check out some of their other items.

The Spray Cleaner smells lightly of citrus, was ready available, unlike my depleted supply of Alice's Wonder Spray, and it cleaned everything it touched. The best part, truly, is that it is safe enough to let my helpers handle. Elliot sprayed windows, blinds, cabinets, floors, walls, and the top of her dolls head. I simply followed, rag in hand, and my house is now the cleanest its been since we moved in! The permanent marker came off our poor doll too!

Eco Store also sent us their hand soap, which also smells great, is adding to the greenness of our kitchen, and is helping us continue our fight against preschool-related germs.


Amid all of this cleaning, Maya has been happily crafting birthday decorations to help celebrate her little sister's birthday, and Elliot is practicing her own artistic talents. So here we are in a clean, brightly decorated house, awaiting our visitors to help us celebrate two years of charming Miss Elle.

Birthday Shopping and Ebeanstalk

Elliot's second birthday is fast approaching. I am shocked, both that she's already two years old... and that she's only two years old!


Elle is one clever, exuberant, and impassioned little girl.

And shopping for her birthday gift, when our house is already overflowing with entertainment options, is a bit challenging. I recently stumbled on a website called ebeanstalk, dedicated to helping us select high quality, safe, and educational gifts for children. Fortunately, they requested help from moms like me to offer feedback on their toys.

About a month ago, they sent us the Activity Bus from Plan Toys, who create eco-friendly wooden toys.


Like all things new to this house, the bus was an instant hit. Its quirky little people with bungee cord arms and legs are fun to manipulate and surprisingly durable. The Bus opens up into a classroom, giving Maya an instant opportunity to take charge.

"Now Elliot, it's time for circle time, come over to the rug," she instructed for quite a while. To my delight, Elliot happily played along.

Unlike too many of our things, the bus did NOT fade away into the toy room blitz. Instead, it is frequently pulled out in coordination with the little people farm and the horse barn, becoming part of some grand, indecipherable play world that distracts that girls long enough for me to get the laundry out on the line.

After a month of play, the bus is still in top condition, still has all its parts including the tiny chalk board, and still holds their interest.

I now have a list going for the other items they want (and I need in order to survive winter hibernation), including the little playground and the rescue center, featuring the same cute bungee people. I have already spotted excellent Christmas gifts for my new niece on ebeanstalk, too!

Of course, the only downfall to high quality toys is that they are expensive. But I'm definitely more in favor of having a few really nice, durable, nontoxic toys that the kids actually play with than a thousand toxic plastic toys that simply litter the playroom floor.

So I'll be scrolling the two and three year old gift lists on ebeanstalk for the big birthday later this month, and if you want to get a jump on Christmas shopping, it's not a bad place to start!

Two years! How is that possible?

Hope & Taxes

Paying your taxes is an act of hope.

No seriously. I realize it is a legally prosecutable obligation, and therefore an act of avoiding steep penalties and public embarrassment at any future confirmation hearings.

But in spite of the uproar over the GOP's "Tax Day Tea Parties," we do have constitutionally elected representation for the first time in almost a decade. Well, the representation is at half strength in Minnesota (thanks Norm), but it is representation nonetheless.

Each year, Joe and I pay our taxes with a little nod to the Pell Grants that got us through college and a great deal of hope for the future of our country; hope for better public transit, a protected environment, and responsive emergency services at the very least.

Now, with two little girls, we are depending on the current administration to improve the nature of health care, public education, higher education, and, of course, win the pirate war.

I spent the morning wistfully listening to the bird songs outside while busily entertaining my sick girls. We spent a good deal of time at the kitchen sink, inspired by the egg-dying last week to mix colors in different cups. It was like magic...

Blue plus yellow? Green!

Red plus yellow? Orange!

Blue plus yellow plus green plus red plus orange? Drinkable! ... Oh wait...

I'm running a preschool for them constantly, and I don't want these gains to be lost when they start public school in a year or two (yikes!). So I pay my taxes... I stay informed... and I hope.



I do have some compassion for the disenfranchised GOP. I was much less hopeful paying taxes under the Bush administration. I still had hope... and, yes Bidden, a sense of patriotic duty. But it was anemic. The expectations were low (and consistently unmet).


Today though, the expectations are high, and the potential for a spike in my cynicism and a sharp turn to the libertarian party a few years down the road is real.

But for now we hope... We work, in our varied ways... We earn... We pay our taxes...

It sounds like my sentiments are in line with most Americans, according to Joan Walsh's post on Salon.com today:

Just in time for this day of massive protest, Gallup released a poll showing that 61 percent of Americans believe the income taxes they paid this year are "fair," and more Americans now say the amount they pay is "just right" than "too high" -- one of the most pro-tax outcomes since Gallup began polling on this question in 1956. Great timing, Tea Partiers! Way to have your fingers on the nation's pulse.

Hope is a Thing with Feathers

Happy Inauguration Day! My favorite hope quote of late (my blog title) is from Emily Dickenson and is printed on the back of our new book Louise: The Adventures of a Chicken. Every time I read it, I think of Obama and the fragile place we are all in, so full of hope and with so many obstacles to overcome.

Today I'm trying my hand at live blogging. I'll be adding updates throughout the day :)

8:50 AM: The country is abuzz with energy. Even here, from my little home base, I can feel the energy radiating from the hopes of the nation... the enthusiasm of the 2 million + people gathered in D.C. (which include my own lucky siblings!! How I wish I had accepted that invitation!) and the other hundreds of millions of us connected through a thousand different media outlets.

My favorite quote today is from author Rita Mae Brown: "Trust your instincts and don't hope more than you work." That last part, I think, applies beautifully. From everything we saw of his campaign style and his diligent cabinet assembly, I think we can have every confidence that President Obama will work at least as much as the hopes he has raised. More importantly, he is committed to transforming this energy and enthusiasm bubbling around us from hope into action in our own communities. I intend to get involved somehow....

What a fantastic moment to savor!

10:40 AM: At our house, Hope is a Thing with Construction Paper and Elmers Glue.... To keep the girls busy while I listen to NPR's inauguration coverage, we made celebratory hats. I can safely say, it's the first patriotic activity (non campaign related) I've done since shortly after 9/11.... which is the last time I felt this connected... unified with those around me.

The pictures coming out of D.C. are astounding. I can't believe how many people are there!






1:16 PM: Maya fully enjoyed the inauguration. Can you believe it? She's only 3 and a half! Every time the cameras swept over the massive crowd, she would pout out that lower lip and say, "Mama, next time, I want to go too!" She applauded for Hilary, who she recognized on sight, and for Obama's daughters, saying "I'm so glad he has little girls too!" She was fascinated by the past presidents, and kept asking me to elaborate on my inappropriate editorial notes about Cheney and W.... I still need to learn how to self edit! For naptime, we read the Obama book.... and now all is quiet for reflection.

Hardy Northern Girls

The high temp today is 14 degrees (F), and the low was just -1. Add that to the 4 or 5 inches of snow on the ground and I can honestly say that it feels like winter.

Finally. After a long summer and a really long fall.

Our hardy northern girls are doing just fine. No, I don't mean Maya, who keeps refusing my requests to go play in the snow for a bit, or Elliot, who is essentially immobilized by her snow gear.

Our chickens are weathering their first winter with ease.

After a finger numbing, nerve frazzling trip to the grocery store, I ran back to the coop fearing the worst. Chickensicles. Or at best, expecting to plug in their heater.

I was truly astounded at the sight of 5 happy hens jumping from one roosting bar to the next, in and out of their nesting boxes. They seemed completely unconcerned by the cold, or the fact that they are literally cooped up.

The coop was actually toasty, thanks to their body heat, a little lamp, and the slightly heated water dish... and of course excellent construction!

We're already mid-way through December and I haven't yet had second thoughts about keeping our ladies year round.

Especially after the Star Tribune's big story about high egg prices and potential fraud on the part of the big egg producers. Is it just cynical to think (as many lawsuits are accusing) that industry leaders are using new environmental regulations to artificially cause dramatic reductions to the hen population, thereby raising prices? After the ugly mess in Illinois, nothing would surprise me?

Yes We Did!

If you missed the acceptance speech, find it on line!

Hope! Healing! Moving past perennial wedge issues! I believe the next four years will in fact transform American politics.

Vote, Vote!

We're doing our part....

After the theft of three signs (two classic Obama and one sassy sign reading "We are better than these last 8 years"), I am very glad we reserved one last Obama sign for the big day.

I planted it close to our house with the hope that tomorrow morning I can adorn it with balloons... hee hee, maybe not. That might be a bit much.

But let's vote!

I've offered my babysitting services to every like-minded stay at home mom I can think of, and I'm on call for a few moms who are waiting in the long lines of North Minneapolis. They might need me to pick up their preschoolers if they don't get to cast their vote before class ends.

Is there anyone in your life that might need voting assistance? Help out if you can!

We're hoping to mark the day for Maya and Elliot, too, including election day gifts (the Barack and Hillary children's books!), and we'll let Maya cast her own ballot for our evening restaurant destination.

And we'll bring Maya with us to cast our votes later today.
Isn't democracy great when you have an inspiring candidate!?

Here's to HOPE!

Happy Hens Huncker Down

We gave the chickens a special treat this weekend, letting them run in wild place that our garden has become.


They have picked their chicken run clean, requiring Joe to haul in 7 tons of gravel to prevent it from becoming a mud pit. They have spent a couple of months in a barren run, staring at the lovely bounty of our garden, so it seems only fair that they get a bit of free range access now that the growing season is over.



They provided several solid hours of family entertainment, foraging comically among the tilting pole bean tepees and overgrown cabbage patch. Maya rummaged around the garden with them, presenting them with tomatoes or carrots or beans that we missed on the last harvest. Elliot stalked the perimeter of the garden fence, looking for a way to join the messy crew. Poor kid, mom just doesn't think a 1 year old can be trusted around livestock....

Suddenly it was time for Maya's Spirit Play class (more on that another day), and we all headed quickly inside to clean up and dash out.

We didn't think of the chickens again until the girls were bathed and in bed... long past sunset. You chicken lovers know that at sunset, the ladies can't help but seek out a place to roost.

I would have predicted a noisy panic from our little flock when they realized they were cut off from their coop.

Not so.

Joe found three chickens roosting together on a portion of fence sheltered by bowed sunflower stalks. Two more chickens, the more creative pair, were perched together high atop the pole bean teepees.

After tucking them all safely into their coop, Joe reported the best discovery from this little chicken adventure: the racial segregation of our flock has ended.

In the beginning, the two white rocks always roosted together, the two Rhode Island Reds were inseparable, and our poor Black Sexlink was always alone.

But now, Ina (red) and Clementine (black) are happy to cozy up together. They have made friends. They have overcome the old "birds of a feather" social interaction rule...

And they give us hope that in spite of the riotous, clannish tone the McCain rallies have adopted, the majority of us can move past the old prejudices and hunker down together with a new President with the skills, the plan, and the judgment to lead us out of this economic darkness.

Joe Six Pack?

Is anyone else appalled that we middle class Americans have earned the nickname "Joe Six Pack?"

It started with Palin's relentless attempts to mask ignorance and carelessness as "average," but the media has really picked up on it. Suddenly all non-elites qualify as "Joe Six Pack." My status as a "Mainstreeter" for the past two weeks has been hokey and annoying, but "Joe Six Pack" is just offensive.

The moniker is a derisive way to tear down the middle class, suggesting that all working Americans live only for the beer at the end of the day, and can't possibly muster the intellectual capacity required to fully engage in complicated political conversations of the day.

Think of your reaction to similar nicknames, not by a friend but by the people you have elected to represent your interests: Joe Weedsmoker, maybe then it would be Mary Jane McDooby... or Joe Scratches-his-butt.... or Joe Eats-too-much-chocolate.

Anyone of those might be descriptive for some or all of the average Americans it is trying to reach, but is that the key descriptor we want our leaders attributing to us. "Hey country of complacent, alcoholically-numbed simpletons, vote for me, cause I get 'ya."



Well, that has worked for 8 years, why should we demand more respect as the economy crashes around us, our political leaders threaten armed conflict with two or three new countries, and our main concern is how pretty one VP candidate looked in her bikini 20 years ago.

Perhaps I'm just bitter that Palin didn't implode last night, instead retreating to her "safe" topics of energy, her non-elite status, and the democrats as tax-raising-job-killers every time Biden's impassioned, reasonable, and clearly well-understood responses left her floundering with no prepared, relevant material.

I must say, though, that the Joe Six Packs in the house would be in the undecided category if one VP was a presidential candidate (hmmm, I didn't actually notice him when he was one, so he's probably best at #2). Biden was inspiring,very clear, and very respectable.

What a fantastic ticket we get to vote for!

An Obama Mama & the Obama Girls!

Don't forget to watch the debate!

Indulge Me, I'm a West Wing Fan

The McCain campaign tore through our neighborhood in the night, assaulting my morning drive to preschool with sign after sign after sign.

Within an hour, my own signs were on order (the campaign headquarters ran out of their latest shipment within an hour yesterday!

Maya politely listened to me rant about the ideological significance of conflicting world views as a basis for rational debate compared with angry us-versus-them, liberal-is-a-dirty-word, we-won't-listen-no-matter-what, lipstick-wearing pit bulls who can't speak college level English but believe it should be the official language of our country.

Phew! Poor kid. She sweetly responded, but I love Obama, mama. Oh I must drink in my influence now, as it will only fade over the next 15 years!

If you, like me, need a morale booster, read this New York Times article featuring President Bartlett from the West Wing offering (fictionally, of course) Obama some sound advice: sometimes impolite is required and condescension is called for!

Dance, Dance, Revolution

The girls lived the high life at their first wedding celebration. Even though they didn't even make it to the official dance, they logged at least a half marathon in miles run around the dance floor.

Elliot followed Maya, Maya followed the bigger kids, and both of the girls paused now and then to shimmy, shake, and twirl their matching skirts around!

Joe and I reveled in the many family members eager to play with and watch the girls for us. We even had a few adult conversations, admittedly more of a novelty for me than for Joe. Unfortunately, I suffer from Wandering Syndrome. No matter how interested or engaged I am in a conversation, I am usually forced to wander off after one child or another. Either Maya needs me to confirm that the gum stuck to the underside of the cake table is not an appropriate snack or Elliot, refusing to be held, wobbles off for the nearest staircase.

Then I am stuck, unable to clarify my complete outrage at the possibility that Republican Palin could be the first woman in executive leadership (no, it's not that she's a mother, it has more to do with her inability to define, much less take a stance in regards to the Bush Doctrine) and unable to elaborate on the leadership ability of Obama (though he was not my first choice - aah Hilary - he clearly has the finesse and charisma of a natural leader and the experience and thoughtfulness of an attorney, state legislator, and senator... plus the passion of a pragmatic idealist who believes change is possible).

AAAh, I look forward to the days when I can a) enjoy more than one adult beverage at a time, and b) complete a conversation without aimless wandering.

In the meantime, I'll just enjoy the dance parties!

Tell me, Please, Palin is no Hillary....

Tell me that you listened to Barack's speech last night.

Tell me that the video took your breath away, especially given the stark contrast with the last two DNC conventions that left all of us saying, well, he's not Bush.

Tell me that the speech that followed, especially the bit about "we're a better country than this" and the bit about it being his grandmother's night too and the bit about "we are all patriots" brought you to your feet in your own living room with the energy and excitement that only comes from hoping that we may be able to recover the lost ground of the past 8 years.

Tell me that McCain's running mate, Alaskan Governor Sarah Palin, will not steal Hillary's supporters since, other than both having a, um, hoo-ha, they share little resemblance.... Certainly not the pro-woman, pro-family, pro-health care, pro-choice policies that Hillary has spent a lifetime supporting.

Tell me that getting ahead in politics as a woman doesn't mean you have to be come a cross between Ann Coulter, George Bush, and the Brauny paper towel guy.

And tell me, please tell me that the democrats have some obnoxious, media-stealing news blitz planned for the day after McCain gives his undoubtedly dull and un-newsworthy speach at the end of their convention.

I can't stand the game... it's all too stressful!

Hillary too~

The video montage was amazing, don't you agree?

It made me think of all the strong women in my family (we have an overflowing bounty of them!) and the force of wills and maternal pride that keeps driving us all to define our lives on our own terms.

The only stomach turning moment was during the long, long applause during Hillary's entrace. They kept showing Bill. I love Bill. I think he was a fabulous president, and in the past 7 years, every time I've heard him speak has been like a balm on the rash caused by W.

However, seeing him in the role of supportive husband was... well... yucky.

And when he actually mouthed "I love you," I almost tossed my cookies!

Other than that, though, Hillary was great. She would have made an amazing president, but now she'll simply remain a valuable ally for Pres. Obama in the senate.

Michelle, ma belle

Did everyone listen to Michelle Obama last night?

It is worth listening to online, if you missed it. I remember being 13, listening to Hilary Clinton at the '92 convention, and being excited to hear a female orator with strength and enthusiasm. Michelle Obama likely made history last night, setting herself up as first lady in an idealistic yet efective presidential duo that will work to right the wrongs created in the Bush presidency.

At least, I hope so.

Of course I would rather have the inspiring, strong female orator cast in the role of presidential candidate rather than spouse. But unlike Hilary's die hard supporters, who appear to be threatening mutiny at the convention if they don't get.... I don't even know what they want... Unlike them, I have no problem supporting Barak Obama.

I'm am just a little afraid. It's like watching Phelps swim. You know they are all probably sincere. The ideas they espouse, not just the poetic way they present them, stir a deep desire in most of us to participate in changing the disparities in the world around us. I, we, hope and expect them to work toward these goals with sincerity.

Seven years under the most duplicitous executive branch in history understandably leaves me watching the convention with my fingers crossed. Let's hope the Obama's can deliver.

During the Olympics I kept thinking, this would really suck if Phelps turns out to be on something.... like so many other athletes. Now I find myself with similar thoughts regarding past political disappointments.

Here's to hoping they're not on anything... like a simple power trip.