Monday, November 17, 2008

Best of Spam

When I used to share an office with Jessa, and then Micah, I'd always ask them "What time is it??" Depending on the day, they would answer "New Music Tuesday!" "Horoscopes" "Peanut Butter Jelly Time*" or "Time to read interesting/dirty spam out loud." We probably should have worked on the name for that last one.

Anyway, if I weren't the last one still employed here, I'd read them this out loud today:

"The ideal age for pregnancy is 27. How old are you?"

Thanks, spam. Thanks a lot. Like I needed a deadline from you.

(*Only Jessa ate peanut butter and jelly every single day like clockwork. But we all sang the song!)

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Best of Whining

Internet, I don't feel good. I feel horrible, and I've been whining about it for over two days, so it's about time you got to join in on the "fun." My back is KILLING me (seriously, I've asked Whit to take an axe to it, and also wanted to get out on the turnpike so someone could run over me rather than continuing the back-breaking ride in the car), my nose is running, I can't stop sneezing, and recently I've felt nauseated.

We went to Kingfisher yesterday to partake in some Eischen's (not even back pain is going to keep me from fried chicken, dill pickles and beer), and we all stayed with the fam. This morning, I made a really good breakfast for my entire family. I'm only telling you this because I ONLY JUST REALIZED I COULD BE COMING DOWN WITH THE FLU. For everyone who has had my cooking in the past twenty-four hours (Whitters, Henry, Mom, Kenneth, Seth, Henry, Gallagher, Chester and Grant): YOU'RE WELCOME FOR THE KICKASS FOOD AND I'M REAL SORRY ABOUT THE HORRIBLE SICKNESS THAT MIGHT BE COMING YOUR WAY.

But maybe it's not the flu. I've been having some back problems lately, but they've gone away. This is persistent and awful and I just asked Whit if she would get me some Nyquil to pour into my red wine. Deep down, you know how good that sounds. I also asked my mom for an epidural, and she demurred. Oh well. I'm going to finish this bottle of wine, lie on my back on the flat floor and make people wait on me.

Tomorrow, we're doing housecleaning and working on organizing the garage and putting up Christmas lights. I must be a masochist. BUT if someone wants to come over with some Nyquil for my orange juice, I won't complain. That doesn't mean I'll stop whining.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008


The Sapulpa Daily Herald's response:

"Members of the Afro-American community have been very vocal about the Herald’s failure to put Barack Obama’s win in the Wednesday edition after the elections."


I think white and brown and red and black people were offended by the omission of the RESULTS OF THE HISTORICAL PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION.

Who wants to go protest? I've got shirts and signs and white skin, to show them that not just the members of the "Afro-American community" are pissed. I am, too.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Best of Sapulpa, Oklahoma

This is why I'm leaving.

And this.

And this.

As my Dad said, when I told him that we're the ONLY state where every single county went for McCain, "We're number 1! In bigotry!"

Buying plane tickets to DC tonight.

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Best of Celebrations

Yesterday, Grant and I marked the one-year anniversary from our crazy first date. It was the first "first date" I'd ever had, and appropriately it felt like high school for both of us. I was still staying with his aunt and uncle, who did not know we had a date planned. I came home from work as fast as I could to get date-ready, bathing and shaving and brushing teeth in a nervous hurry. After I got my clothes, jewelry and make up on, I sat and waited with Whitters, still giggly nervous. Grant called, and HOLY CRAP was it an awkward conversation. He said he'd be at the house in a few minutes, and that he'd regularly pick me up at the door but, and I interrupted him saying that there was no need and I'd meet him in the driveway, and Whitters could hear the whole thing and was laughing so hard she had to leave the room. I felt like I was sneaking out, and felt more like sixteen than twenty-six.

We went to the White Lion, a British pub, where we had the cheese plate and beer and I thought he didn't like me. BUT after dinner, he asked if I'd like to have a drink, so we walked over to Sutures and put all of our respective baggage on the table. I'm pretty sure that's a first date no-no. We went to a party after that... and I'll end my story there... but neither one of us knew what to think the next day. I wondered if he'd ever call me again, and he wondered the same thing.

He did.

One year later, we've had ups and downs, but HOLY HELL have we made it through some rough times. We have a strong and loving relationship, which made yesterday like Christmas. He had to work at 7:30am, so I got up at 5:30am to make him pancakes before he had to leave. I WILLINGLY got up on a SATURDAY MORNING BEFORE THE SUNRISE - this is love, people. We ate, he left, I napped :), then I went to finish shopping. We met for his lunch break, I continued shopping, and made it home in time to make him an apple pie before we headed on our date adventure.

Also like Christmas: PRESENTS!!! I got him a Rabbit wine opener, a fuzzy king-sized blanket because I keep it so cold, a set of sheets so we could move his bed to our house, a new sweater, and a glassblowing lesson. HE GOT ME A LE CREUSET FRENCH OVEN. Shut up, I know, it's the coolest. And a set of cheese knives, and deep dish pizza pans, and DID I MENTION THE LIME GREEN LE CREUSET?

After we had a glass of wine, we headed to Tulsa for the glassblowing lesson. He made a glass flower entirely by himself -- he's a gaffer -- and I assisted the glass artist in making an ornament. The studio, run by Sarah, is wonderful, and after Tuesday's dismal Oklahoma results, having some of the arts here is a little reassuring. Added bonus: she likes Obama and wanted to trade for Grant's shirt.

We headed to the White Lion for dinner, where we ate cheese and held hands and kissed and did all the things that piss off other people in the restaurant. One year ago, we began a journey of healing for both us there, and we're still going and loving, and it's exactly what I want.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Best of Questions

Where were you when you found out we made history?

I first found out that we were leaning toward good news in my car in Claremore, when I wasn't in front of a computer or television, but thank GOD Giles was twittering, and I called him as soon as I knew they called his home state of Ohio.

When the newscasters called it for Obama, I was in Arnies in Tulsa, Oklahoma, drinking a Blue Moon with Micah Strongrope. His friend grabbed us to come to the big screen, the entire bar cheered, and everyone near the bartender took a free shot. Not quite as exciting as dancing in the streets in DC, but perfect for me. I texted Grant, left in time to record the speech for us to watch when he got home, and we shared a bottle of champagne.

Oklahoma, you've been warned, you are very disappointing. Nation, thanks for representing.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Best of Results

President-Elect Obama.

Monday, November 3, 2008

Best of Voting

It's almost over, it's almost oooooover. Ban-nan-uh-nan-nan-uh! It's almost OVER! IT'S ALMOST OOOOOOOOVER!!!

I made up this song this weekend, and if you're nice, I might sing it to you. Right now, Whitters in WINDIANA is the only one who has heard it, because I want to keep her motivated and working hard for THE NEXT PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, a certain Barack Obama.

I've been singing it in my head (and in my car or office if I'm alone) just to get through the days leading up to the election. And now it's down to ONE DAY.

I went to vote early on Friday morning with Grant at the Creek County Election Board, and there was a line. The doors opened at 8am, and at 9:30am, when we voted, I was number 250. Pretty damn cool. When we got back in the car, Henry had taken my seat (it is important to take your kids to the polls with you so they grow up thinking it is a normal activity - THAT IT'S JUST WHAT YOU DO), so we shared it on the way home. I told Grant that I had waited so long for that day, to get to vote, and he asked how long. FOUR YEARS, PEOPLE.

For four years, my daily life and work has directly or indirectly centered around this moment.

It's hard to work in a field where compensation does not even come close to equaling time and energy. It's hard to work in a field when you are expected to work during the regular work day, and then keep working when you can reach voters when they are at home, on nights and weekends and holidays. It's hard to work in a field that you are not supposed to talk about at the dinner table.

That last part is what drives me crazy. I work hard for something I believe in, but it is off limits for polite conversations. I'm trying to change at least my part of the world for the better, but I shouldn't talk about it. What the hell? Why is it, in America, that we can fervently support sports teams (Go Sooners!), wear shirts, paint our faces, put flags on our cars and our yards, and that is not crazy, but wearing a political shirt or having a yard sign or bumper sticker or wanting to talk to your friends, family and neighbors about something that actually affects them is?

It's not too late. Put out a yard sign. Let people know your views. You don't have to be afraid to be a Democrat anymore. Tell your family that you are voting for change. Make phone calls and tell complete strangers why they should, too. Knock on your neighbors' doors, or in a completely different part of town, and tell them to vote for Obama. Be a part of history. It's not too late.

But it's almost over.

I'm predicting an Obama win and hoping that dedication equals victory in House District 9 in Claremore USA (knock on wood, cross fingers, hope and pray). BUT NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS, WE GET A NEW PRESIDENT AND GEORGE W. BUSH IS OUTTA HERE!!!