HA!

HA!  I'm conquering cables!  This is fun!

Pictures will be available after this project gets shipped off.

I'm doing a happy knitting dance.

An open letter

Dear Congress,

               

                You don’t know me personally.  That’s ok.  I don’t know any of you personally, either.  But I am a voter.  I’m a non-traditional college student.  I’m a single mother.  I’m a daughter.  I’ve been unemployed since December 2007.

                The only income I have coming in is the child support I get for my child.  I can't afford the medication I need to function without migraines.  Under the ADA of 1990, I'm disabled.  But, I can't get help. 

               

                I sit here watching the petty bickering amongst your members and have to wonder at the fact that your members are so cut off from the common American that it’s not even funny.  Tell me, how much does your average member make?  In 2006 it looks like it was a little under $170,000 a year.  With a 2.5% raise each and every year.

                You know how much I make?  Technically zero as I am unemployed.  But I get a little over five thousand dollars a year in child support.  If I had a minimum wage job?  If I made six dollars an hour, and worked all forty hours a week, I would get $12,480.  Before taxes.

                So, could you please tell me, Congress, why you have a complete lack of common sense?  Tax cuts will not help me.  If anything, I’d be among to 99% that will get a tax increase.   Those special few in the one percent will get a nice, cushy tax cut, right?

                Why?  Don’t give me a cock and bull story.  I don’t have time for it.  Are they not American citizens?  Do they have some sort of special magic power that makes them immune?

                Wait.  I forgot.  They do, don’t they?  It’s called being rich.  Boy, it must be nice for them.  What about the rest of us?

                But, enough about that!  It’s a dead horse that’s been beaten for too often.  But, you know something, Congress?  I really think you need to brush up on your 20^th century history.  Especially the twenties and thirties. 

Let’s take a look at our infrastructure, mm’kay?  The vast majority of us can’t afford luxury cars with super-smooth rides.  Quite frankly, our roads suck.  So do the railroads.  For being such a wealthy country, it doesn’t look it on the roads.

                Another thing that someone would assume to find in a third world country?  Our so-called healthcare system.  For the most of us, me included, our health policy is don’t get sick.  But a state-funded healthcare system is naught but dirty, filthy communist hippie freaks would want, right?

                Wrong. 

                Congress, tell me something.  Have you ever heard of Morgan Spurlock’s series called ’30 Days’?  It’s really quite interesting.  For thirty days someone lives in another’s shoes.

                Can you get your members to do that?  Walk a mile in the so-called middle American’s life?  Or lower middle class?  I think it would be eye-opening for them.

                Yes, there are a few bad apples in amongst our ranks, but the vast majority of us just.  Want.  To.  Work.  Possibly even have a little left over for the occasional movie.  But let’s not get too greedy.  Food for our families and taking care of the mortgage would thrill us to the bones.

                Now, I understand that it takes time and compromises and all that jazz, but really?  All the backbiting and finger pointing is just a little silly.  Not to mention more than a little immature.  But then, so is waiting for the last moment.

                If I did that on the job, I’d get fired in a heartbeat. 

                Walk in my shoes, Congress.  Please.  I dare each and every one of you.

                Yours Truly,

                                A Voter

No tin roof here. Just heat and ick

It's hot, miserable, and sticky.  In other words, pretty much a typical summer in this area.  Blech.

I'm almost done with Imp's Gryffie scarf.  You can see one end in the picture.  I've got one and a half blocks of red, and one gold stripe.  After I block the silly thing, I'll blanket stitch the ends up with more gold yarn.

I've tried the gauge swatch with my lace yarn at least five different times, I think.  Halfway through the stitch count goes wonky on me.  I can't quite figure out why.  I'll have to really take a look at this latest swatch and see what I've done.  This means tinking back a row or five.

I've done it so many times, that I've got the lace pattern memorized!  Maybe that's the problem.  I've gotten complacent.  Huh.

Now if you excuse me, I've got about four new mosquito bites to ignore.

Too Old To Rock'n'Roll, Too Young To Die

I have Rolling Stones and Alice In Chains competing for ear space right now.  What an odd combination, but then that pretty much describes my musical choices.

I grew up thinking that rock from the sixties and seventies was current music.  CCR, BTO, Blue Oyster Cult, Stones, Doors, Eagles, Jethro Tull, Led Zeppelin, Moody Blues, Steely Dan, Black Sabbath, Iron Butterfly, all the classic rock bands were recent things.

I don't know when, exactly, that I realized that the stuff I listened to wasn't.  I never really stopped.  Hell, I still sing with Ian Anderson and Jim Morrison.  A  cookie for you if you know the first singer.  If not, get off my little bit of cyberspace.

I've branched out some since then, but my introduction to the world of music still influences my choices today.  Flogging Molly, Dropkick Murphys, DMB, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Dresden Dolls, Johnny Cash, much of what I listen to seems to be rock driven.

I'm no music critic.  I like what I like.  Patsy Cline for one.  That throw people.  She had a voice, man, that was rich and soulful.  Etta James.  Then I swing over to The Ramones.  Then pop over to Khachaturian and some classical--usually Western European.  Throw in some Gershwin, too.  System and Rage gets tossed about with Loreena McKennitt and Tori Amos.

I'm not picky.  I like what I like.

Now...tell me where the title came from.  I dare ya.