The Sticky Wicket

I still have a LiveJournal. Who knew?

I'm not about to lose my house - thank Maude my parents own it and can suffer the months I can't make a payment (which is most of them since my school loan payment exceeds my house payment).

Having made that disclaimer:

I realize some - maybe even many - people bought houses they couldn't afford. But some - maybe even many - bought small, tidy homes that they could afford. Until they lost their jobs. Or had a medical emergency that cost the rent one month and rendered them unable to catch up. And fortunately I don't have many folks reading this and able to comment, but let me just tell you now that I will use the S-word (Shut) combined with the F-word (you know the one) in a series with "the" and "up" if you even argue the conection between a medical emergency and threatened or real homelessness.

I watch very little media; my day is difficult enough to get through. But why is it that I've seen the reference "houses they couldn't afford" 3 times today and not one single reference to the people who could at the time and now can't?

Why is it that when someone wanted to buy a house they couldn't afford, someone offered them a fucking loan? And then held out their "bail-out collection hand" when the person couldn't pay them back? I mean - I'm all for personal responsibility, in fact it is a deep-seated ethic I hold dear. It isn't McDonalds' fault I have extra pounds. But if I ask you for a loan and you know I can't afford to pay it - please don't act victimized when I don't. Really... if I have to eat humble pie for thinking I could eat the lead paint on the windowsills in order to afford the lovely tri-level with shag carpeting in the 'burbs, you should at least have the decency to accept that you made a bad loan hoping I would fail because that is how you make a living.

I don't give change on the corner because that buck in my clinic will buy some medications for 20 patients for a month with our prime vendor FQHC rate. And I don't give loans to people whose income to debt ratio is higher than acceptable because I bet they won't pay them back. And I don't blame every housing foreclosure on bad decision-making, greed, or over-reaching when I know many folks who are one mis-placed foot on the stairway away from a $1000 ER bill, an uninsured surgical procedure, and 6-10 weeks off work.

And one last curiosity. Why is it that when someone doesn't like something in the stimulus package it is always "their" tax dollars? They are my tax dollars too. And I'm throwing them at the people who need them most - even if they did something stupid. People shouldn't live on the streets and eat out of dumpsters because they're stupid.

If you can complain about your tax dollars, you have dollars to tax. And frankly - that makes you and I fortunate right now. And please Maude - if I things get worse, make sure there are tax dollars there to care for me and mine.

Roo turned 11 today with a birthday party consisting of Voodoo Donuts and coffee followed by a trip to Pittock Mansion and all wrapped up with a trip to the Skyline Diner complete with pickled asparagus and a hunk of velveeta on the dinner salad.

After becoming a mother, becoming an Aunt to Roo and Sweet Eyes (Gus) may be my most favoritist thing in the world. I wish Wednesday were more mine and that Lilybean were closer and that Claire's mother hadn't chosen the path that she has so I could double my Aunting pleasure.

Where Roo goes so follows Sassy with an 11th birthday coming right behind. We are making the annual birthday trip to the beach house with the whole clan the 2nd week of March, then Sassy and I board a plane two days later. She is on her way to see her father in Ohio for her birthday, though this trip is quite against her will. We have struggled for over a month with this as she is done with her dad and willing for him to simply fade into the ether that he existed in for the first 9 years of her life, but she is unwilling to say it to him and I cannot step in for her for at least one more year due to court order. I have, however, sweetened the deal by buying tickets that will land us in Boston for an additional week for her long-awaited visit to Salem Village.

The world is a strange and magical place. Eleven years ago I was married and living in Ohio, working as a paramedic and firefighter, 8 months pregnant, and so incredibly lonely so far from my family and friends in a place so conservative and constricting. It was HipMama that helped me locate the handful of parents in a 30 mile radius who knew what a sling was and had used a boob for to feed a baby. That and my near constant telephone link to Danielle were the ties that kept me sane. I had no idea what life would bring as I sat in my house, rubbing my belly and waiting for news that Roo had made her entrance into this world.

Sometimes I get so caught up in the little bits that I forget to be overtly thankful for the sweetness of life. Yet here I sit, eating a bowl of black beans and rice, the dog warming my feet, and Sassy and Sweet Eyes playing dress-up upstairs. Does life really get much better?

Happy Birthday Roo-bird. You being in my life is the chocolate sprinkle on an already sweet life.

Annie worked for me in the clinic before immigrating to Israel with her new husband to begin medical school. She now lives less than 40 minutes from Gaza.

To my dearest family and friends,

I am not normally a fan of mass email, but I feel this is the only adequate way for me to personally respond to the tragic conflict that has occurred here. The recent passing of a beloved teacher, Reb Aryeh Hirschfield, of blessed memory, has forced me to examine the intricate but amorphous ways that so many of us are connected. To all of you, we are linked by threads, some intimate and deep, others expansive and far-encompassing.

My home is in Be'er Sheva, some 30 miles from the Gaza strip. While I personally felt relatively secure, my geographic proximity still placed me near the epicenter of this explosive war. I am incensed by many of the actions of the Israeli military, the horrible toll of human death and suffering in Gaza, yet my personal views are also superimposed by my experience as both a medical student and immigrant in Israel. I can't lie: I definetely had a moment of fear when missiles landed a mile from our home. Ultimately, any political naivete I had has been stripped away, outrage transformed into a general sadness.

At times, daily life seemed normalized and mundane, in spite the military helicopters that passed over our apartment day and night, and eery sirens right out of a Hitchcock movie. It puts an interesting twist on medical school to have your Pharmacology professor first explain the location of the nearest bomb shelter, rather than than the curriculum. A few days ago, I heard that a Gazan doctor I knew of, Izz el-Deen Abu al-Aish, lost three daughters when his house was attacked. Dr. Aboul al-Aish, whose wife died of cancer four months ago, was trained in the same hospital where I now study. In a recent interview, he spoke that his children were raised to be "soldiers for peace" and that he still, somehow, believed in dialogue.
What does it mean to be not in a war, but stand right on the periphery, looking at such a bloody catastrophe. I recently wrote that is:
". . .not like the overwhelming weight of personal loss, but the subtle unmooring of collective grief. My mind is like the frenetic call of a blinded bird, the synapses twittering from narrow bridges, spanning this damp well of a heart that rings heavy and does not echo."

It has been a month of tremendous tragedy, but also of change. We have seen the inauguration not only of a new president, but hopefully of a new age and direction for America and the world. It was not without coincidence that Obama was ushered in on Martin Luther King Jr.'s celebrated birthday. With the current vacuum in the Middle East of a legitimate voice for peace, King's words are particularly poignant: "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."

Thank you,

Annie

P.S. For anyone interested in helping out, a dear friend of mine runs a non-profit, Circle of Health International, that brings together Palestinian and Israeli midwives. They are assisting with emergency women's health services in Gaza, and have set up a fund for Dr. Abu Al-Aish.

http://www.cohintl.org

On Monday I revived someone who OD'd in our bathroom at work.

On Tuesday I told an employee who I really like and admire that she wasn't making the grade despite her concerted efforts.

On Wednesday I took Sassy to the dentist who informed us that whether she chooses braces or not - she will need 2-4 teeth pulled. A double row is apparently only allowed on sharks.

On Thursday I fired the employee who wasn't making the mark on Tuesday. The one I like and admire. The one who has tried harder than any other person I have ever met. The person whose family lives on the brink. The person who ought to have had a more likely entry as a client, but defied the odds and became an employee. The person who... couldn't do the job despite all that.

On Friday I lost the thumb drive with all the coursework for the class I am taking at PSU - the coursework I need this weekend to be able to do the project due in two weeks. Oh - and accidentally spent $50 on dinner for me and the twins to boot. But fortunately missed the OD in the bathroom - though my staff revived her.

I wonder if these things have anything to do with the panic attack I can feel trying to present itself; the panic attack that I know would leave me gasping for breath and feeling trapped and suffocating? The panic attack I refuse to allow through the tightly clamped closure of my esophagus lest it take me down that path I have tread only once before and swore to never tread again?

Some days - and even weeks - feel very, very lonely.

to you .

Tonight at dinner Sassy pondered the conundrum of wanting to spend holidays with me - her primary and only real parent - and her father wanting her to spend both birthday and Christmas with him this year.

After a bit she blew out a breath and muttered: "It was so much easier before my dad decided to get involved in my life."

Oh baby...

I think I failed Art, Crime, and Religion. But I've got Vices down.

The Life Experience Test

Overall, you have partaken in 97 out of 169 possible life experiences. Your average life experience score is therefore 57%. The average score is 51%, making your experiences more than 66% of the people who have taken this test. The average for your age group (36-55) is 56%. Broken down by category: Art: 5/17 (29%) Career & Work: 9/13 (69%) Civics & Technology: 4/7 (57%) Crime & Disarray: 2/11 (18%) Education: 16/18 (89%) Fashion: 6/10 (60%) Fitness, Health and Sports: 4/7 (57%) Life in General: 8/14 (57%) Relationships: 7/14 (50%) Religion & Politics: 1/4 (25%) Social: 14/22 (64%) Travel: 10/20 (50%) Vices: 11/12 (92%)

Take the test and see how YOU compare

Roo's hair is contains two artificial colors but somehow this picture, taken from above while bouncing on a trampoline, expanded on the color-theme.



I love this picture.

I have no idea from whence this child sprung. Surely she did not come from my ratty old, tomboy, blue-jean and clod-hopper, hair-in-a-twist, hoodie-wearing self. She's a changeling.