An Ode to a Harvard Professor, a Cambridge Cop, President Obama and Beer

An Ode to a Harvard Professor, a Cambridge Cop, President Obama and Beer

(to the tune of Gilligan's Island)

Just sit right there and read this tale,
A tale of an unfortunate blip,
That started on a Massachusetts porch,
Of a professor with a brand new hip.

Professor Gates had forgotten his keys,
He's black and was breaking in his own house.
Some neighbors called 911 you see,
They mistook Gates for a louse.

The cops arrived at the home of Gates,
They wanted to see his ID.
Gates yelled a yo mama insult,
And then he got the third degree.

The white Sergeant put Gates under arrest.
The charges were eventually dropped.
Obama weighed in on this incident,
His words could not be stopped.

So this is the tale of an unfortunate blip,
That occurred in Cambridge, Mass.
Tomorrow the men are meeting with Obama,
For a beer in a glass.

No Bass, no Beck's, no Amstel Light,
Not a single Heineken,
The White House policy on brewskies:
American made, amen.

So wait and see how the drama unfolds,
We're sure to see some pics,
Of two dudes with the President,
Sharing beers and carrot sticks.

Pro-Choice?

Choices...we all make em...some good, some not so much...but they are ours as are the effects that ensue. Democrats claim to be the party of choice because of their Pro-Choice stance on abortion...but think about it...is the Democratic Party the party of choice? I think not. From school vouchers to Healthcare, the left side of the aisle has shown that the only choice they want you to make is how far you wanna bend over...pass the Astroglide.

Before I continue...this is what I think 'bout abortion. Firstly it is a states' rights issue...for example: you can get an abortion in Kansas later in the pregnancy than you can elsewhere in the US...if Roe v. Wade was overturned tomorrow...the debate and decision would go back to the states. Secondly...having an abortion is a very personal decision that should be made only after careful consideration (you can't really go back on it...and it could haunt you forever). Lastly...I'd like to see some similar legislation for dads. If a man doesn't want a child...he should be able to relinquish his parental rights before the child is born. Girls, we fought for equal rights...not different/better/special rights...and believe it or not...some women like to trap men in relationships with babies.

Clearly, the Republican Party is *the* party of choice:

What kind of gun do I want to buy?
Where do I want to hide my secret cash?
What kind of steak am I going to eat?
What minority group do I want to offend?
Which charity do I want to pretend like I care about?
Which version of the Bible do I want to thump today?
Which private school do I want to send my cherub to?
Which gas-guzzling SUV do I want to kill the environment with today?

I chuckle...and no we don't eat kittens (although, I've heard they taste like chicken). But honestly, other than abortion...what choices do liberals offer? Eat this, not that. I'm sorry your school sucks...stay there anyway. Oh...you chose a Directv subscription over health insurance, no problem...here's some...but wait, you can only go to these four doctors....what's that...you need a heart transplant...well you can't have mine...it's bleeding. You don't like Obamacare, no worries...you can stay with your company's policy, that is...until they stop offering it because it's too 'spensive because Obama raised every tax he could find and then he made some new ones...choice schmoice...do what I say and like it...bwa ha ha ha ha ha.

Life is about consequences. If I speed...I may get a ticket, sure...I'll cuss, but I'll pay the fine and slow down. If you eat your weight in cheeseburgers, while spending all your 'extra money' on flex-pay rings from QVC instead of on health insurance...that's up to you...I'm okayyy with it...I'm not gonna make you swap out your snazzy ring collection for health insurance...oopsie now, you've got shugabetes...sorry, but remember you made those choices...own them.

Bottom Line: Gandhi said: 'Be the change that you want to see in the world.' I say: 'Take responsibility for your choices. Don't be a victim...and if you are...press charges.' Zen worthy indeed.

Summer is...bacon wrapped, fried gold

Long Time, No Blog

Sorry...I've thought of you often...wanting to share my birthday, 4th of July (and beyond) adventures with you. It's just that well...I am actually pretty lazy and often uninspired and therefore unmotivated...well not necessarily in the conventional sense. I mean...o'course me and my life are spectacular and you certainly should be interested in what I'm doing, what I think about...everything and well...to be perfectly honest...me in general. But I do occasionally feel pressure to make sure that my thoughts are complete with (non-fuzzy) details and if applicable...photos...and so, without further ado...

Birthday Eve

My favorite day of the year is...the day before my birthday. Probably because I'm a spoiled rotten child on the inside and I love to shout...'tomorrow's my birthday!!!' It's not about the presents...I mean...don't be silly...I love a good birthday present...but...it does not have to be your birthday to get a present.

This year my birthday fell on a Thursday...which meant either an Okoboji birthday or a hungover car ride to Okoboji in Friday before the 4th of July traffic. I opted for a Boji birthday...even though that also meant that I didn't get to celebrate with all of the usual suspects. *sad face* You know who you are, you were missed.

the husband bought me this 'new' table for my birthday...the wood is over 100 years old...it is exactly what I wanted

a crop duster in the sky (trust me)

a field of soybeans

sleeping Fergie (and the directions to the lake)

more soybeans

a hog farm

more farm scenery

Never a Dull Moment

The husband had some work to finish before we left...we began our 200 mile journey to Lake Okoboji at around 5 pm on Wednesday the 1st. The route we take is not conducive to bathroom stops...unless you can pee in a ditch or a cornfield. We were about 45 minutes away from the lake when my hubby *needed* 'to stop'. We took a ten minute (one way) detour to Albert City, IA for a toilet. We stopped at the Cenex gas station/convenience store in Albert City where they have one unisex bathroom. We got out of the car...Fergie (my beloved Chihuahua) stayed in the car...the following convo took place as we were walking into the store:

me: 'did you lock the car'
the husband: 'no, I left the keys inside...it's Albert City, IA, Fergie will be fine'
me: 'if anyone steals my dog, I am divorcing you'
the husband: 'I can live with that'

We made our way into the store...he went to the bathroom...I perused the snacks. I realized the husband was gonna be a while as I decided on a push-pop. I hadn't brought my purse in to the store so I went out to the car to get some money for my chosen frozen treat. There was Fergie standing up at the window, looking adorable, scratching at the window...that's when I saw that the doors were locked...Fergie hit the power lock button with his tiny paw...ARGHHHHHHH!!! Keys: locked in the car, purse: locked in the car, husband's phone: locked in the car, my phone: locked in the car, my precious baby Chihuahua: locked in the car. I was immediately hysterical as I tried to get Fergie to unlock the doors. A few moments later, the husband comes outside to a very frazzled (bordering on straight-jacket worthy) Rebecca. He being the calmer one...went inside to call for help. The dispatch said the local sheriff 'for an emergency' would be there in about 20 minutes. My husband could tell by the dispatcher's tone that a Chihuahua locked inside of a car was not an emergency, according to the Storm Lake Sheriff (even though it was about 80 degrees out). Meanwhile, I was still trying to instruct Fergie on how to unlock the doors...his little nose making fog on the window and then scratching it away with his little nails...I was now officially an emotional wreck.

The husband was trying to get the Cenex clerk to give him a coat hanger off of some dry-cleaning that hadn't been picked up yet. Apparently in Albert City, you drop your dry-cleaning off at the gas station. Anyway...the lady was reluctant. Which turned out to be a good thing...because she gave him a fly swatter instead...you know the old kind with the metal looped end. The husband had the locks popped 30 seconds later...Fergie and I were reunited and I didn't have to get divorced. Side note: Volvos are very easy to break into.

Fergie after the incident (looking a bit stressed)

Myyyyy Birthday

I started the day with a Bloody Mary with a side of bacon. The weather was perfect out on the lake. We had a low maintenance, no fuss, drama free celebration.We boated all day and bar hopped all night...Thank YOU to everyone for all of the birthday well wishes. You guys made my day even bettah *smoooooch*

toasted after boating all day with Grey Goose

a wild turkey taking a stroll at the lake

4th of July Fireworks, Okoboji style @ Maxwells

July 7th full moon...Oooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Minneapolis

My consort travels, for work, up to Minneapolis at least twice a month. Personally, I'm a big fan of having the whole bed to myself for a few nights a month...albeit, I do miss using his razor when he's gone (shhhh, don't tell him). Once in a while I will make the trip up there with him, usually for a specific occasion or event...but this time I went along...just because.

The Lions Club International was in town for their annual convention and the Yankees were playing the Twins...the only hotel available was the 601 Graves...which doesn't suck. I booked the room online and we were on our way. The Graves is located directly across the street from the Target Center. Upon arrival, it was evident that not only was there a concert that night, but it was one that I didn't want to be within a two block radius of...let alone right across the street from it. It turned out to be...the Jonas Brothers. *barf*

As we were checking in, I noticed that the front desk associate was having trouble finding our reservation. He was quietly speaking to another person behind the desk, who seemed to have more authority than he did. It turns out...the Graves was overbooked. I became nervous, imagining myself staying at a Super 8 in mega-mall hell, Bloomington. The clerk explained that they were totally booked, accept for the penthouse level. I thought...Super 8, here I come...and then, I heard angels as she smiled and said it was a hotel error, so we would not be charged for the upgrade. I peed my pants (just a little) and almost forgot the Jonas Brothers were across the street.

It was about 10 pm...I was hungry...after a quick freshen up we headed to the 112 Eatery which serves food until midnight. We walked the three and a half blocks through the Jonas faithful (mostly tweens and their psychotic parents) as they lined First Avenue hoping to get a glimpse of the virginal trio. The 112 Eatery is one of those trendy places with a slightly obscure menu...I had a bacon and egg sandwich with something called harissa (a spicy condiment) on it...it was de.li.cious...the fries were pretty terrific too.

The next day I hung out in the room, took a bath in the jacuzzi tub (while watching TV on the bathroom wall flat screen), drank a $10 beer from the mini-bar. The husband was due back around 6ish. I headed to the hotel bar around 5:30 where I drank Grey Goose and tweeted while I waited for him. After a couple of bar drinks we headed for Zelo for dinner...we shared a pizza....it was very good. The bartender informed us that a few of the Yankees were supposed to come in...I was ready to express my hatred in a nice enough way to still get a picture...alas, they never showed up. After dinner we headed to Barrio Tequila Bar for a nightcap...which for me was the old standby Goose and soda...I dunno what the husband had...but I'm sure there was tequila in it.

a peek at the new Twins Stadium and the top of the Target Center (where apparently they grow sod???)

the most comfortable bed in the history of hotels

The Basilica was having a block party...Rock out with your...Bible out

a watchtower on the way to uptown for lunch

my lunch at Figlio's...a delightful BLT

back on the road heading to Okoboji on a beautiful day

Minnesota corn

me in the car, on the wayyy to the lake

The People of Iowa Welcome You...Fields of Opportunities

a windfarm

another windfarm

this is the only 'lake pic' I took (just before we left)
so...imagine these:
1. me moaning while eating warm, cheesy crab dip at Yesterday's
2. a fat, bald guy singing Sweet Caroline at Cocktail's
3. an old, drunk dude half asleep, nodding off to the beat of some crappy Billy Joel song
4. me rolling my eyes as I wonder why karaoke exists
5. me wishing I had a gong
6. a competitive game of midnight Pictionary after drinking all day

the corn is getting tall

a big ole farm thingie

a rainbow halfway home

Life, Death and a Birthday

I usually write about my silly adventures or about my perspective on current events...but this morning I decided to get a little more personal. You see...my birthday is this Thursday. I'm a big fan of my birthday. As a child, it was a very important occurrence. If you could show love in Barbie dolls...I was loved more than any other child on the planet. And Mom, I'm sorry for cutting their hair and giving them head transplants. I was an unappreciative brat-child (which was more than likely your and Dad's fault *wink*).

My tenth birthday was the best. It was 1985...my cousin, Patricia and I had a joint birthday party. She's two years younger than me and her birthday is one week after mine. I got a Cabbage Patch Doll and a life-size baby doll that could pass for an actual infant; those were the two things I wanted more than anything in the world...until the next day, when our very sick grandma died. I remember sitting at home with my dad. My mom was at the hospital. Dad and I were watching The Wizard of Oz, the phone rang, I answered it...it was my mom; even at age ten, I knew what had happened. She asked to speak to my dad, their conversation was short...Soon after he hung up the phone, Dad told me that Grandma Katherine was gone, I turned off the movie and went up to my room and cried. He brought me up some ice cream cake from the day before; I passed on the treat and told him that I just felt like crying.

Fast-forward 14 years...its 1999. My birthday week is approaching...I'm excitedly living my early twenties...mistakes have been made, lessons learned. Life is good...I'm married...the husband's career is taking off. Its late June...I have been to baseball games in Kansas City, Chicago and Baltimore (and I got Brady Anderson's autograph...twice). I love baseball and Brady Anderson! Things are great, except for one thing...my father is sick...but he's doing better...I saw him two weeks ago, he was spirited and seemed optimistic. I have spoken with my mom about every other day. Thinking back, I'm sure at this point she knew that my dad was losing his fight with Lymphoma, he was weak and had recently been given a permanent Dilaudid IV to 'be more comfortable'... The July 4th weekend was coming up (along with my birthday). I made plans to go back home to see him the week following The Fourth. My brother, who never calls me, did on the afternoon of June 30, 1999, he told me to come home. I was on a plane that evening...my dad died on The 4th of July...his Independence Day from Cancer...whenever I see or hear fireworks...I think of him and after a few tears I laugh, because although he loved The Fourth, he hated the hoopla that comes with it...oh the irony.

It is a very good thing that I am not a superstitious person or else I would have a serious complex about this year's birthday. My life has never been better. I have it all...almost...yeah...I *do* live in Iowa, which kinda sucks. If any of my loved ones drops dead next week...I will develop a birthday neurosis which will have nothing to do with getting older. *fingers crossed* Please. don't. die.

Problem: Fat Kids | Solution: Breeder Czar

Today I was watching Your World w/Neil Cavuto on FNC…Yes, I watch that show and yes, I like it. Anyhoo…Neil had Richard Simmons on. Yeah…him….Simmons was lobbying to be the Obama Administration’s Fat Czar. Simmons, an Obama supporter, wants to make kids more fit by force feeding them healthy foods at school while Simmonsing up gym class (my words, not his). What ten-year-old, fat kid doesn’t think Richard Simmons is cool? Yeah…you’re right, elementary school kids don’t have a clue who in the hell Richard Simmons is…but don’t tell him that, he might cry in his short-shorts.

I agree with Simmons on a couple of points. The first and most obvious one is that there are a lot of fat kids in this country. The other is that adding a tax on fattier foods is not the answer to childhood obesity or obesity in general. But, taking soda machines out of schools and cheese pizza off of school lunch menus doesn’t solve the problem either…last time I checked kids eat other places besides school. Also, the fat kid that brought in five bologna sandwiches from home doesn’t benefit from a change on the lunch menu…and making him participate in Sweating to the Oldies Vol. 59 for 30 extra minutes during PE isn’t gonna burn the calories in one of his favorite mystery meat with mayonnaise treats.

I was thinking…If you’re gonna go as far as to police what kids eat at school…why not take it a step further. Some argue that unhealthy food options are cheaper; making obesity an economic issue. So, how about not letting poor people have children? Some argue that people with lower IQs or inadequate educations don’t understand the importance of healthy eating. So, how about not letting stupid people have children? We don't need a Fat Czar we need a Breeder Czar.

No really…I’m on to something. Think about it. No more stupid, poor, fat kids or parents to take care of. Talk about killing two birds, I just killed a whole flock (it’s a metaphor people…look it up) no more Welfare, healthcare costs would go down along with the population and therefore greenhouse gases and the threat of Global Warming. Our planet would be saved and only smart, fit, middle-class and classier people would live upon it. I’m not sure what to do about the ugly folks…but as they say…Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Me, Myself and I

In July of 1975 a stork brought me to my thirtysomething parents. They had two other children...my brother was ten and my sister was eight. My mom swears that I wasn't an accident...my father wanted another boy. He got me instead, a girlie daughter. He didn't care...he took me (and my dolls) fishing on the Potomac River, shopping for tools at Sears and countless trips to Trak Auto and Pep Boys for automotive gear. I would bring my baby dolls and their strollers and happily push them around.

I don't know if my father made a conscious effort to make me a tomboy...but I do recall a few suspicious occasions...like when I was in kindergarten and I wanted to be Strawberry Shortcake for Halloween...Dad bought me a Sleestak costume instead and convinced me that being a fictional prehistoric lizard was cooler than a cartoon character that smelled of Kool-aid. I came home from school crying...the Halloween party at school was brutal. That night for Trick-or-Treat, I was Apricot (the store was all out of Strawberry Shortcakes, Apricot was a 'b' character from the show...but at least I didn't have to be The Purple Pieman).

After kindergarten, my parents worked A LOT. I was a latchkey kid from the first grade on...cue the violins. I entertained myself with dolls and Barbies until I took an interest in the opposite sex. And then (as my dad would say) I went 'boy crazy'. Oh well...I didn't turn out so bad and trust me...I tried my very best not to.

Pitchas of meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...

Rebecca Lynn, 8 lbs 6 1/2 oz, July 1975

Somewhere on vacation, 1976

at my Aunt Elaine's house, 1978

at my Aunt Elaine's, 1978

Sears photo center 1978

under my cousin's high chair, 1979

Sears photo center, 1979

Crater of Diamonds State Park, Arkansas, 1980

first or second grade - bags under my eyes, teeth probably not brushed, hair definitely not brushed, ca. 1981

Fast forward seven years...I don't have any pictures of myself from the ages 6-13 years.

me (age 13) and my dad (and his awesome glasses)

me (age 14) and my dad at the Early Missionary Bark Chapel, Mackinac Island, MI (one of my fave places in the US)

me, age 15 (insert hair jokes here)

me (age 17) high school graduation pic

This is one of my fave photos. It's me (about three years ago) trying to dance the Two-Step with my husband's grandfather in Texas.

My Elephants

I hate clutter. I am definitely a throw-awayer…the anti-packrat. I mean let’s be reasonable…Yes, I own several pair of shoes and lots of clothes (some I've actually worn). I have a drawer full of lipsticks and glosses that I’ll probably never wear (but won’t toss out). I keep gift (and shopping) bags and of course magazines. The husband likes to keep certain things too…I can’t tell you what those things might be, because he’s either hidden them or I’ve thrown them out (just kidding, honey…mebbe).

But, I have a confession to make…I collect…elephants. I’m not really sure how it started. My sister started collecting frogs (no...not real ones) when I was a kid (don’t ask...I haven't a clue). She’s eight years older than me. I guess I wanted to emulate her in some way, well...some way other than, the usual stealing her make-up and trying on her shoes. And so…my elephant collection was born.

As a spoiled child, the collection went from modest to out of control pretty fast. Every birthday, Christmas, Hallmark holiday and trip someone would go on…I would benefit with an elephant knickknack or stuffed animal.

I’m now (almost) 34 years of age. I still have my elephants. Most of them are packed away in my basement…but I have some of the more sentimental ones surrounding me in my bedroom. Yes, I still receive them as gifts – once or twice a year...always from someone special in my life that I love very much.

And now (in no particular order)….some elephants: