more than the sum of my parts

I’m considering a third tattoo, maybe something along the lines of the one shown here, from LuckyFish Art (funky Celtic cats); or maybe something completely different. No telling yet. In any case, I’m going to set some sort of personal goal that I have to meet before I go get decorated any further, so we’ll see if it happens.

I’ve certainly seen some designs that I do not want permanently drawn on my body. For example, the following (from Ananova):

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What’s the most effective way to prevent abortion? Anyone, speak right up.

That’s right: Don’t have sex.

And, is it realistic to suppose that human beings, young and old, married and not, with or without reliable birth control available, will make sensible sexual decisions 100% of the time?

You, in the back: Yes, you’re correct. People have potentially pregnancy-causing sex all the time, despite knowing better. What’s up with that? Are they stupid?

No, just human, with human sex drives. Fortunately, if the condom breaks, or you’re forced into a sex act, or you’re just plain stupid in the heat of the moment, there’s an easy, efficient way to prevent an unwanted pregnancy and thus prevent an abortion: Plan B.

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The New York Times has a fascinating tool you can use to search the State of the Union speech for the number of times the president said any particular word. It gives you the number of times he said that word this year and in each of his previous SOTU speeches, and also compares the count to his use of assorted other words. And, it shows you exactly where the word appears in the speech, and will give you the text of the paragraph. Very nifty stuff.

For example, this year he mentioned terror and terrorists 22 times and Iraq 34 times. In contrast, he mentioned the economy 8 times and schools only 5 times.

The word-counter claims that he said “nuclear” 3 times last night. But we all know what he really said.

I’m currently debating whether to listen to the State of the Union address tonight. As I’ve mentioned before, I can’t bear the sound of W’s voice. Particularly when combined with his smirks and odd gestures, his words just about send me over the edge. So, given that I’ll disagree with probably 99.782% of what he says tonight, and that the cumulative effect of being subjected to watching and listening to him for that length of time will be akin to having my skin flayed by tiny, laughing imps wielding red-hot irons, I may skip it and read the analyses.

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I’m delighted to announce that we’ve solved the Case of the Phantom Frog.

First, you need to know the following bits of background:

• My husband is president of the teacher’s assocation, as well as a teacher, and he does his association work on a laptop. Said laptop sits on a drafting table next to the kitchen. (Yes, the table’s top is laid flat, not tilted as it would be for an architect.)
• The association uses an AOL account for email.
• We have a home wireless network, so often the AOL account is sitting open even when my husband isn’t using the laptop.
• My kids’ first-grade teacher collects frogs. (Not live ones, but, you know, frog stuff. In a very serious way. Her classroom overflows with froggy items.)

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I’m reminded by Sex in the Public Square that today is “Blog for Choice” Day, a movement developed by Bush v. Choice (”the pro-choice anti-Bush action center”) and NARAL Pro-Choice America.

You can read Sex in the Public Square’s column and get a beautifully written explanation that mirrors my own opinions on the subject. I’ll go over them in brief in a moment, but first I want to make the following perfectly clear:

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We were all sitting in the living room last night playing Mexican Train dominoes. The assorted animals were resting; the TV was off; the fire was crackling.

When from the next room, unmistakable and clear, we heard: “ribbit.”

It was without doubt a frog, speaking a single amphibious word.

But there was no frog…

I have a dream, and it looks like this:

My dream will be just as happily satisfied if the names are switched: Edwards/Obama. These guys are honest, smart, and focused on the good of the American people — and also photogenic and articulate, which is important in today’s political races. And, most important: They can win.

(Button from Cafe Press: pick your favorite Obama running mate!)

I have just returned from an unknown place where I took part in a series of experiences that I didn’t understand. The place was West Virginia; the experiences were an open-casket visitation and a funeral.

I have not understood, do not understand, and will never understand what has been called “the American way of death” (I’m planning to order the book by that name, to get some insight into the funeral industry). It has to do with being the only child of an only child, and attending no open-casket visitations and darn few funerals when I was growing up. My mother’s parents and my dad were cremated; after they died, we held memorial services at times that were convenient for family travelling from far away, and we celebrated their lives with music, stories, and songs. These were not “funerals”; they were deeply personal memorials to people we loved.

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sitting on the floor
a few feet from
new bright flames

sparks
        burst
        outward
    tiny orange fireworks

gentle
crackle
    hiss

dancing light
glows
warm

we read;
dogs sprawl nearby;
cats drape the furniture.

this is what it is to be
        content.