Another Halloween has passed and our decorations still adorn the porch. Spider webs, lights, skeletons, a witch that cackles, a doorknocker with springing eyeballs, a couple of bulb-lit pumpkins and one real pumpkin all sit silently waiting to be tucked away in their plastic bin or thrown into the compost bin. Sunday should have been my un-decorating day (I think I just made up a new word) but I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye to one of my favorite holidays.

I can’t quite relate to the folks who get all worked up about Halloween being tied to Satan or a time to worship the dead. My theory is they’ve either sat in church too long or watch way too much TV. People, it’s just a holiday. And, it’s become such a secular holiday that Hallmark is one of its prime embracers. And, if Hallmark embraces it you know it’s okay.

Yes, Halloween has a history, but from what I know, it’s typically linked to the Celtic festival of Samhain from the Old Irish and means roughly “summer’s end”. The festival of Samhain celebrates the end of the “lighter half” of the year and beginning of the “darker half”, and is sometimes regarded as the “Celtic New Year.”

Now here’s the spooky part that gets the religious types up in arms – the celebration has some elements of a festival of the dead. The ancient Celts believed that the border between this world and the Otherworld became almost non-existent on Samhain, allowing spirits (both harmless and harmful) to pass through. The family’s ancestors were honored and invited home while harmful spirits were warded off. Supposedly, the need to ward off harmful spirits led to the wearing of costumes and masks with their purpose being to disguise oneself as a harmful spirit in order to avoid harm. Very, very tricky and maybe a little treaty!

The bottom line is that Halloween is what you make of it, but all one needs to do is look around today and see that it’s a great time for kids and adults alike to have a little innocent fun, put on a costume if they like and go door-to-door begging for some decent candy. Okay, I don’t believe in or condone candy-begging by adults. It’s embarrassing to witness and I imagine extremely embarrassing to actually attempt. I have my limits, even on this wicked, evil holiday!

It’s been a few years since I’ve actually put a costume on as an adult or attended an adult Halloween party, but we decided this was the year. Mr. Tom, Payton and I ordered up the disco family costumes and we did not disappoint! The only reason I’d call them scary is when I thought about the fact that in the 70s we wore that kind of clothing it truly frightened me. And, seeing how they fit I’m guessing that I could have warded off a few harmful spirits during Samhain.

First came my daughter’s fall festival at her school on the weekend before Halloween. Among the festivities was a costume contest for the kids. And Payton, in her disco dolly outfit took the top prize for cutest costume. Don’t worry, we left our costumes home that night. A school function was NOT the place to debut.

Then came the Friday night before Halloween where we all decked out in disco and headed to a murder mystery fundraiser/Halloween party for kids and adults.

Mr. T., unbeknownst to him, but certainly known to me, became a suspect in the night’s murder. When he was called to the front and questioned he decides to immediately channel Tony Manero (aka, John Travolta) from Saturday Night Fever. When asked where he worked, Mr. T told them the hardware store, while also sharing that he still lived with his parents. At one point he did a couple of Saturday Night dance moves. I was mortified, laughing and crying tears at the same time. In the end, he wasn’t chosen as the murderer but it was one of the most memorable moments of my 2009 Halloween.

Oh, but there’s more. One of the “actors” that night kept coming by our table and early on had named me “Shiny Lady.” His name was Juri Sonavich (I’m glad that one went over all the kid’s heads). Juri was there auditioning untalented people for his reality show. So, lucky me, he calls a handful of women up to the front, including me, the “shiny lady.” At this point, I’m mortified. He asks us each to scream in High C. The irony is I wouldn’t know High C from High B, D, E or F. I cannot, let me repeat, cannot carry a tune. And, while he’s getting us all ready to scream it just so happens that my daughter spills her pop at our table located in the front slightly to the right. So, she jumps up to go grab some napkins but has to make a couple of trips in front of all of us. On the second trip, Juri says something about “Oh, there’s another one of you, there’s Shiny Lady Number 2.” I felt like it really had become a bad reality show but I’ll admit I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time.

Disco Family gets its groove on – Shiny Lady No. 2, Tony (Mr. Tom), Shiny Lady No. 1

Next up was the actual Halloween night. We again adorned the disco garb. And, while I stayed home to answer the door, Mr. Saturday Night and Disco Dolly, aka, Shiny Lady Number 2 headed out into the neighborhood. I had kids come to the door, some accompanied by adults who apparently were in the crowd the night before, resulting in a couple of “shiny lady” shout outs. And, I was told by one parent that Mr. Saturday Night was cavorting in the neighborhood. How dare him!

Now you tell me, does any of this sound satanic and evil? I can’t wait to see what Halloween 2010 brings – scary, shiny,  spooky – bring it on!

It all began back in early August when my much-loved MacBook Air started developing a crack on one end of the hinge. Knowing how to turn on a computer and proficiently use a few programs makes me far from any kind of technical genius. I know nothing about the hardware, so I figured the crack was nothing serious and I’d eventually have to take it in. But within a few days it started making a popping noise at the hinge every time I opened and closed it. Never did I think this little crack would soon result in a completely non-functioning computer. Again, I just use the computer; I leave the hardware knowledge to others, and as it turns out, I’m not sure those supposed experts are as knowledgeable as I used to give them credit for.

But, I’m not worried. I’m thinking, ‘Hey, I have a two-year warranty on this machine and it’s not my fault the hinge is defective.’ Okay, it apparently wasn’t my most brilliant thought because little did I know that Best Buy and the infamous Geek Squad will do anything before they are forced, silently kicking and screaming to cover a customer’s warranty.

I’ll admit I made a crucial error early on. I signed their paperwork that authorized them to evaluate my computer, but I didn’t read their 8 pt. notes in the upper portion of it that said, “computer looks like it has been dropped.” First of all, I asked Mr. Geek Squad what I was signing and he said, “Oh, it just allows us to evaluate your computer and determine what’s wrong.” Fair enough. NO, NOT FAIR ENOUGH. I’d had a lengthy conversation with the guy where I made it clear that I hadn’t dropped the computer. I explained how it started as a small crack in the hinge area, blah, blah. And, turns out he really was hearing me say “blah, blah..” as he typed in “…appears that customer dropped computer.” He may as well have written, “this woman is crazy if she thinks that her warranty is good for anything in this store…”

I could draw this thing out as long as it took me to resolve it so instead I’ll attempt to hit the highlights. First, they made me pay $150 for an external hard drive to pull off my data because they couldn’t guarantee they could salvage it. Again, I was sure the problem didn’t have anything to do with the hard drive but I really, really didn’t want to lose all my data. Yes, I’ll admit it, I had no backup. So, I paid the money and waited, and waited and waited.

After a couple of early calls made by me, I was told it was still under evaluation. Then came the phone messages that they could repair my computer for $1,099 and to please call and authorize the repair.  Right, when pigs fly. I promptly called back and said no, nada, never gonna happen. I asked to speak to the supervisor who conveniently only works hours that the rest of us work, so making a call into him and being put on hold for who knows how long is super duper convenient and so customer-service oriented.

Two days later when I spoke with Supervisor Joe, I explained to him that Nadine (name changed to protect her stupidity) said that because the paperwork said I had dropped it they couldn’t retract that and therefore couldn’t consider fixing something under warranty if it had been dropped. I must have told Nadine way too many times that it had not been dropped but she then brought to my attention that in the 8 pt. type it did say “it appears to have been dropped.” And, the only way to retract that would be to send the computer and paperwork back to the store and have them change it there. I must have laughed a little too loudly when I reminded her that they were dealing with technology in the 21^st century and why on god’s green earth would they have to physically ship something back when it could all be handled electronically. She said she would make a note to hold the computer and that I would be contacting Joe.

Joe the supervisor who seemed very normal and actually did all the right things found in customer service 101 – empathetic, admitted they could have handled it differently, etc, but then proceeded to tell me that the computer had already been shipped back but assured me more than once that I didn’t have to do anything. He also admitted that there had been a service recall from Apple on its defective hinges found on Macbook Airs. Imagine that. And, that they would fix it under warranty. He was very reassuring but finally admitted that he would be leaving for a three week vacation, but swore his copious notes would be passed on to Jay Jay in his absence. He was so reassuring I fell for it.

Two weeks later I checked in – again. I ended up with Nadine (remember her?) who said the computer was still sitting in Seattle and she couldn’t find anything from Joe, but did remember the issue. I came unglued and told Nadine that enough was enough. Get the computer back and get it fixed. She said she would contact the local store and have them overnight it back.

A week later the computer was somewhere between Seattle and Dubai or Iowa. I have no idea where their repairs are done. Finally, I’m told it’s been checked in but there’s no repair schedule as of yet. With another call I learned that a new screen had been ordered.

A few days later I check online and it says something about the customer has been contacted. I had not been contacted so I called the local store and learned that they would be replacing my computer.

So, after two months and 10 days, 20 calls, a letter from the store at one point indicating my computer had been sitting there for 30 days and I needed to pick it up, and more frustration than any one human being should have to endure for a damn computer, I left the local Best Buy yesterday with a brand new MacBook Air.

Here it is. Perseverance does pay off! Best Buy be damned!

Having a new, shiny toy should make me feel better about Best Buy, but it doesn’t. I’m disgusted beyond words at the lengths they went to so they wouldn’t have to honor this warranty. In my estimation, it was a BAD BUY from BEST BAD BUY, and I will do everything in my power to never spend money in that store again. And, I will continue to hold out hope that the economy will recover and with it will come big box stores that can provide much needed competition for BEST BAD BUY.

There’s little question that reality TV has become a national obsession. Just take a quick scan through the weekly TV Guide and today it seems reality TV outweighs drama, comedy and pretty much any other category.

Gone are the days of prime time featuring brilliant writers churning out history-making shows that had us scheduling our lives around each week’s episode.  Now, it’s all about learning who’s the Biggest Loser for the week, what star is forced to hang up his dancing shoes because of an injury, whose lost their travel documents in a race around the world, what gross, disgusting food will the Survivors be subjected to this week, will Kate plus 8 (minus John) finally do the right thing and stop filming the show, and what crazy parent will force her Toddler to stick on a tiara and parade on stage as if they’re a grown adult. The evidence goes on and on that reality TV rules today’s airwaves.

Enter Balloon Boy and his crazy, self-centered, star-obsessed, f%@cked up parents and you know that obsessions can clearly drive people to do things not of this earth.  And, now that the balloon has landed and the dust has cleared, we learn these storm-chasing, alien-finding people have displayed to the entire country why those brilliant writers of yesterday need to take back the TV airwaves.

It’s hard to fathom that two adult people with any type of functioning brains can think they could get away with building some spaceship-shaped helium balloon, let it float into the air, call the authorities and claim their son is aboard and watch the story unfold on national TV. And, it’s not enough thinking they could get away with it, but it’s also the fact they thought this kind of action would ultimately land them their own reality show.

It seemed unreal from the beginning, but got weirder and weirder as the story unfolded. Once we learned they’d already done two stints on Wife Swap, it wasn’t difficult to know this story wasn’t over. Then, when the dad holds a press conference to announce he’s leaving out a question box for those still seeking answers and he’ll be back later to respond, I think we all knew it was only a matter of time.  Can anyone say “HOAX?”

Conspiracy, contributing to the delinquency of a minor, attempt to Influence a public servant – all felonies. Now that’s no hoax, that’s the Heene’s new reality show  - soon airing daily from a Colorado penitentiary.

I’ve never doubted that people, for the most part, are inherently kind. But these days, it seems like you encounter more anger, disrespect and downright despicable behavior from those who somewhere along the way decided that it’s okay to treat people like they themselves would never want to be treated. I think it’s when the opposite happens to you that it leaves a lasting impression.

I remember about a year ago experiencing a “pay it forward” moment in the drive-through Starbucks line. I had heard about one probably a year earlier that went on for several hours before someone broke the magic.  On this particular day the barista at the window, who is still there and still as fun, kind and perky as ever, said I was No. 25. I, of course said I’d pay for the person’s drink behind me. I suppose I was lucky she wasn’t ordering for the entire office that day, but even then I would have still paid. Price aside, it leaves you with a good feeling that you’re doing something for someone else you don’t know.

And, while we give to charities and do as much as we can during the holidays, I’ll admit that I fall into that category of not being all that random with my acts of kindness.  It’s not that I haven’t thought about it and pondered numerous times about wanting to help someone, but I’ll admit I often over think it. “Is this the right way to help?” Are there more effective ways?”   By the time I’ve run through all the scenarios in my head my spontaneous moment of reaching out has passed.

Maybe that’s why I feel compelled to share me witnessing an incredibly random act of kindness last night. I was headed to our local QFC to pick up a few items for dinner. I drive up to my favorite spot at the front corner of the store.  I’ll admit it’s my favorite because nobody can park on your right side so it’s easy to get in and out and the risk of door dings it almost non-existent.

Sitting at the corner of the store, right in front of my car is a man with a sign that read something like: “I’m homeless, and yes, it’s totally my fault. I’ve made mistakes. But, if there’s any way you can help I’d appreciate it.”  I have to admit I read his entire sign and thought it was a pretty interesting approach. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an alleged homeless person’s sign actually be accountable for his/her problems.

He looked a little weathered, but lucid. He was reading a novel and he wasn’t actually speaking to anyone who passed him; he was just sitting. The fact is, he was located on the end of the store with not much foot traffic, so he’d chosen a pretty, quiet unassuming place for his “ask.”

My first thought was to ask him what he needed so I could buy it, but I didn’t. Then, when I came out I pondered whether I should give him money, but I’ve always steered away from that because of the risk of contributing to an ongoing problem, rather than actually helping.

 In the meantime, another gentleman came out and handed him a bag of groceries. He said something about how he hoped it help. He then asked him where he was staying. The guy said he was camping. Mr. Random Act then asked about him about staying warm. “It’s going to get cold tonight, do you have a coat, and do you have blankets?” I couldn’t hear exactly what Mr. Homeless said but something about he would try to stay warm. Mr. Random Act then asked whether he could use a coat. Mr. Homeless must have nodded. Mr. Random opened up his pickup and tossed him a down coat, saying he had two. It wasn’t just any old coat, I’m sure it was the coat the guy often wore. Not that he didn’t have another one, but I’m telling you it wasn’t some sort of hand-me-down.

That encounter was an incredible Random Act of Kindness, and I couldn’t help but give the guy a nod as he drove away. I followed him down into my neighborhood. 

This week will mark three years since we’ve lived in this community. I liked it from day one, and that short but significant interaction reinforced for me that people around here really are good and kind. So, to Mr. Random Act, maybe I’ll actually see you around the neighborhood and if I do, I’ll be sure to not hesitate in commending you for doing something that people like me wish they would do more of. You’ve given me the motivation to stop over thinking those kinds of moments, and simply help someone if I think they really need it. Thank you. You made my night.

I’ll admit I don’t know a lot about Tufts University. When I think of it, I envision historical buildings, kids that are pretty buttoned up, and an administration with an overall approach that puts academics over athletics. Tufts always makes the list of Top 100 universities in the country, and it’s probably never even been on the radar screen for the top party school list. One my most recent discoveries is that it has one of the best International Relations undergraduate programs in the country. That little tidbit is thanks to my nephew who’s a member of this year’s freshman class.

No their mascot isn’t Dumbo, it’s Jumbo! Now that’s catchy, Go Jumbos!

With a little more research I learned that Tufts has made recent list of colleges where students are the happiest. A contributing factor to that might be because it has some of the best college cafeteria food, according to another ranking list.

 Many accomplished people have donned the halls of Tufts, its cafeterias and probably even its dorms, including Today Show host Meredith Vieira, Anita Shreve, author of the Pilot’s Wife and a number of other best-selling novels, Bill Richardson, former U.N. Ambassador and current governor of New Mexico, CEO of Bristol-Myers Squibb, Peter R. Dolan, Pierre and Pamela Omidyar, billionaire founders of eBay and musician Tracy Chapman, just to name a few.

For all the accomplished folks it’s churned out and all the lists it’s made, it’s not a school you typically read about in the news. Even as a “New Ivy” it doesn’t get the kind of attention Harvard gets or any of the other Ivy League schools. It’s academically solid, it’s expensive, it’s supposedly open to not just those that consider themselves socially elite, and overall it’s non-controversial and flies under the radar.

But, all that changed last week when the new dormitory sex policy was rolled out which included an added stipulation that prohibits any sex act in a dorm room while one’s roommate is present. The stipulation further states that any sexual activity in the room should not interfere with a roommate’s privacy, study habits or sleep.

Apparently, one of the most commonly cited roommate complaints had to do with the accompanying noise from a roommate gettin’ busy while the other roommate was still present. Supposedly this new language will help make it clear when it’s okay and not okay to have sex in your dorm room. Seems pretty commonsense, right? But, to any of us who’ve attended college and lived in dorms (even if it was years ago), we know just how stupid we can all be, and whether you want to admit it or not, most of us can probably conjure up factual examples of when this policy would have been a good thing to have in place.

It sounds like Tufts students who were affected by late night, early morning or mid-day romps were uncomfortable about bringing up the topic with the roommate. And, policy makers think this change will help facilitate conversation. I’m not so sure about that. Those that couldn’t confront his/her roommate before probably won’t be able to confront him/her now.

But, the added bonus now is that if no resolution is reached between parties, students can have other Tufts authorities intervene. I can imagine the conversation going something like this:

“Hi Janice, I’m the dorm room sex monitor specialist. Janice, we’ve called you here today to talk with you and Cynthia (roommate) about the fact that she’s unable to study when you’re doing that boy from your chemistry class just feet away from her desk. The policy states you simply can’t get busy in the room with Cynthia there, no matter how quiet you think you are. So, can we agree that there will be no sexual activities in the room if your roommate is present?”

Janice responds: “I really don’t get it. My parents pay for me to attend this college and they pay for my housing. If I’m not doing anything illegal I should be able to do whatever I want in my room. Cynthia can just wear ear plugs if it bothers her.”

Sex monitor specialist responds: “I can understand why you feel that way Janice but policy is policy. I would be happy to contact your parents and discuss the process and costs of moving you into a single dorm room, so you can continue fulfilling your sexual appetite. Would you like me to do that?”

I miss college.

A couple of nights ago we had the “pleasure” of attending an open house at our daughter’s school. We were excited, to some degree. Honestly, one can only get so excited about rushing frantically from work, cramming a snack in your kid to prevent her from completely going ballistic from hunger and speeding to the school to park several blocks away with the goal of  joining hundreds of other hurried parents in an overcrowed gym. Oh, but it gets better.

First, I must tell you that this was more than an open house; this was a celebration of the opening of a new school. They’d finally moved from the mold-infested, 50-year-old, California-style school with outside classroom entrances (yes, we live in the Pacific Northwest where it ocassionally, or some would say “regularly” rains) to a beautiful new school.  This night was a big darn deal for those that put their heart and soul into bringing this new school to fruition. And, it was an exciting night for all of us parents anxious to get a full tour of the new digs.

We arrive at the gym and the program had already begun. Big surpise!  Not exactly easy to drive 30 minutes from work, pick up the kid from daycare, stop by the house to let the dog out and grab the unhealthy snack, experience one major meltdown because of the need for the snack and then have to hoof it a mile to get to the gym. I digress, sorry.

The principal was already speaking, thanking the appropriate people, giving accolades where they were due, etc. And, before I go any further I must say that I’m very pleased with the school, the principal, the teachers, and all involved, so this really isn’t criticism against school administration in any way, it’s more a criticism of the fact that time and again they fail to “know their audience in situations directly involving parents.”  Sorry, but being in PR/Public Affairs that’s my thing. It’s make or break. You have to know who you’re speaking to and all that goes with it.

So, here’s my advice to all that spoke that night – principal, school board members, PTSA president, architects, planners from times gone by, etc, etc., – you were talking to a gym full of people who were mostly tired and hungry, and were accompanied by their children who were as equally hungry and handle it much worse than said parents. And, while we know this night was ultimately about you patting each other on the back, we really just wanted to see the school.

My good friend Merriam-Webster defines open house as “ready and usually informal hospitality or entertainment for all comers.”  Frankly, I’m not so sure than an hour’s worth of talking heads can be considered informal hospitality or entertainment. Granted, the fact that there was free food at the ended served as a vital carrot, but having to listen to speech after speech before we were supposedly released to receive the carrot by standing in the mile-long food line fell well short of sufficient. Would we ever actually see the school?

As it turned out, there are advantages to being late. We had no seats. We were standing in the back of the gym. And, we were actually joined by parents we know so we could commiserate about the situation. Honestly, we weren’t being rude. The sound system didn’t really make it back to us, so we could only hear about one of every three speakers. And, it happened to be an unseasonably warm night so our kids exited out the backdoors into the play area and eventually into the food line before it stretched around the school.

Mr. T stayed inside the entire time. I know he wasn’t riveted by the speakers but I guess he thought we didn’t both need to be outside monitoring our daughter. Once the speakers commenced, out he came, proclaiming that the “we are so pleased with ourselves” program was all over.

Sorry, I again sound non-appreciative, but this night really needed to be about the kids and parents. I would have much rather had the opportunity to go from area to area talking with those intimately involved in this project and thank them personally. The drone of speeches, all really saying the same thing, only serves those giving them.

We finally get to explore the school, spending most of the time in our daughter’s classroom, meeting her teacher and learning all about what happens during her day. From there, we toured the library, music room, courtyard, office and numerous rooms along the way.

It’s a lovely school and it’s great for the community to have this beautiful new school. But, for some reason educators miss the mark time and again on events like this, and I really think they should know better. They work so hard to meet their students where they are at and really know each and every student.  But when it comes to events involving adults, they totally miss the mark, time and time again.

I would ask them to ask themselves. Do you want to sit or stand for more than an hour listening to adults drone on about the process, people they don’t know, things that matter to them but don’t matter to those of us not intricately involved in the process? Or, would you rather get treated to a couple of cookies, some great conversations with staff and an amazing tour of a beautiful new school. My guess, is they would pick the latter. Let’s hope that’s the case in the future.

I distinctly remember having a good laugh when I first saw the commercial late last fall announcing the Snuggie.  It truly seemed like the answer for anyone never wanting to leave their couch again. Eat, sleep, and do whatever you wish while in the comfort of your own Snuggie. I remember thinking that this was just what our ever-expanding society needed. With obesity already at an alarming, all-time high now here comes something to further promote a sedentary lifestyle. 

Apparently it was a hot seller at Christmas and has picked up steam ever since. I don’t personally know anyone who owns one but my mother just recently said she’d been thinking how nice something like that would be when she got up in the middle of a cold winter’s night unable to sleep, but wanting to read in warmth. Okay mom, I’ll give you a pass since I know you’re far from a couch potato.

But, I’m afraid the Snuggie makers have now pulled out all the stops. There’s Snuggie for Dogs, Snuggie for Kids, Snuggie Wild Side for those wanting to express their animal tendencies.  Who knew the Snuggie would ever elevate its status all the way to Fashion Week. But before our eyes just a few days ago we witnessed Snuggies on the runway. Perhaps I was mistaken about the fashion aspects of this well, er, umm, shapely blankie.

Yea right, neighbor Maybelle looks just like this when she puts on her Snuggie for the weekend – the entire weekend.

It’s bad enough that people dress like slobs when they get out in public these days. Look, I’m the first one to run to the grocery store in my sweats. But, I’m appalled when I see people out to dinner in bottoms that strongly resemble the lower half of some sort of sleepwear. For all I know, that’s what they are. I think Americans have gotten a bit slovenly over the past few years, and I think it’s partly due to the overall weight gain of the country. And sorry Snuggie, just because you put a model in a Snuggie it won’t change people’s habit.

So, I’m afraid that I can’t support the sale of Snuggies. My fear is that pretty soon that’s what people will wear – always. It won’t just be for couch sitting or the weekend warrior. You’ll see them in restaurants, at the gas stations, walking the mall corridors, strolling through the neighborhood. I’m telling you it will become an all out Snuggie Pandemic, and I choose not to become infected.

Just when I’ve started to feel more hopeful about our country, our economy and a potential solution to our health care crisis, things take a turn for the absurd.

What has happened to this great nation? It appears to have become so entrenched in polarization, thanks to Bush II, that conservatives can only see any actions by our president through one lens – the lens of hatred and distrust.

Next week President Obama plans to deliver a speech on education aimed at students across the country. His message is expected to be something about the importance of staying in school and gettting a good education.

Since when is encouraging kids to do their homework, pay attention in class and strive to learn, some sort of conspiratorial indoctrination?  Have you people gone made?  Sounds like we have a widespread case of koolaid drinking, and way too many people have lined up to the proverbial pitcher.

I really don’t get it. Presidents in the past have delivered speeches on education. They’ve shared the same kinds of messages and never do I remember people coming out of the woodwork saying they would keep their kids home from school that day and that the president has no business trying to fill kids’ head with his beliefs.  And let’s not forget the Republican party and the conservative media who’ve joined the bandwagon, banging the drum about the president seeking to spread his socialist idealogy. Oh the horror!

The President’s spokesman Robert Gibbs didn’t mince words when he summed up the outcry from the President’s plans.  “I think we’ve reached a little bit of the silly season when the president of the United States can’t tell kids in school to study hard and stay in school,” Gibbs said.

Actually, I think he was being quite measured by calling it the “silly season.”  The conservatives  and their diehard followers out there have gone beyond silly, they’ve moved straight into the crazy column.

It’s time for this country to get back on track. It’s time for conservatives to accept that they no longer have one of their own in the White House. Instead, they’ve got someone there who actually cares about all citizens in this country, and who cares enough to reach directly out to students. We all know education is that last great equalizer in this country, and it’s about time that we again have a president who’s acknowledging that fact, and acknowledging that teachers have a voice.

My hope is that every TV in every classroom across this country is tuned in to the President’s speech next week, because it’s truly a teachable moment that our kids shouldn’t miss.

Last week I talked about my anxiety leading up to the mother of all relays, Hood to Coast. Well, I really don’t know if it’s the mother of all relays, but it sounds good and I’d like to think it is.  Any time you traverse 197 miles on foot over the course of two days, it’s got to be called the mother of something, I would think.

So, here I am, living to tell about the amazing experience. First, let me say that my feet aren’t exactly happy because they’re a bit laden with blisters. But beyond that, I’m very happy. It was an exhausting, exhilarating experience. And, when we finished Saturday afternoon none of us in our van were necessarily ready to commit to next year.  But I guess it’s a bit like childbirth, a little time passes and the outcome ultimately outweighs the excruciating pain you experience for some finite amount of time.

Our team, Sole Train, was a mixed group of 12 men and women, mostly from Oregon and mostly in our 40s, with a few exceptions. Not that I’m counting or anything, but I did happen to be the oldest member on the team. But, I’m happy to share that I’m far from the slowest.

While the 12 of you are a team, you actually spend your entire time with your five van mates, or in our case, Denali mates,  consisting of five women and one guy. Going in, I only knew one of them, but coming out you can’t help but know all. You’ve just spent more than 30 hours, in very close proximity, to these individuals. You smelled each other’s sweat, whether you’ve wanted to or not. You’ve broken bread together – in the car, of course. You’ve slept together – sitting up, in the car, of course.  And, most importantly, you’ve been there for each other at the beginning and end of each leg of the 36-leg race.

I accomplished a handful of “nevers” this weekend that felt pretty good. I’ve never run a long relay race spread over a couple of days. I’ve never run in complete darkness at 1:30 a.m. on a gravel road (with a meth house along the side of the road every mile, or so). I’ve never spent that much time with that many people, sweaty and cramped in a vehicle. I’ve never run 19.68 miles broken down into three runs spread out over a 24-hour period with no sleep. And, I’ve never achieved the mile times I achieved on each of my legs.

While our team wasn’t the fastest, the youngest, fittest, most competitive, most creative with the car decorating – we were, in my estimation, one of the most committed to finish and to be there for each other every step of the way. We said we were going to have fun and enjoy this experience, and we did.

I’m proud of my team, and frankly I have to say, I’m proud of myself. This race kicks your ass, even if you’re in shape. And just for the record, when the map says rolling hills it really means steep hills that roll on forever.

In the end I really believe it’s not how long it took for your team to finish, it’s really about the journey along the way. And, Sole Train had an incredible journey. Look for us next year to be back bigger (we hope not) and better (maybe) than ever – renamed and recharged!

I love Top Chef. Not sure why. It’s probably because I’m not a cook and never will be. I don’t enjoy it and frankly, I’m not very good at it. Yes, I can follow a recipe and yes, if pressured, I can come up with a few dishes. But, it’s painful, stressful and incredibly nerve-racking to serve it to anyone but my family.

I tell myself, “If only I had people to practice on.” You see, Mr. T. is Mr. Bland when it comes to food. I guess you could say he’s a meat and potatoes guy, but without the chives, seasonings, side dishes, garnishes – you name it. No red sauces, no pastas containing all the vegetables I love, no lasagna, no eggplant, no stuffed anything, nothing but stripped down food. So, he’s the LAST person I can try out dishes on, because he won’t even take a bite, let alone eat enough and give me an honest opinion based on some sort of sensible palate.

Then there’s my daughter. Well, for an eight-year-old she’s not as picky as some I know. But, she is eight. Special sauces and food treatments aren’t really her thing. If she doesn’t like it, she usually says it’s too spicy. To her, “too spicy” takes in several meanings that really offer me no guidance if I’m trying to perfect or even make a dish that’s passable to the average person.
So, who’s left? Well, there is the dog, but he really isn’t supposed to eat people food, whether it’s chocked full of flavor or misses the mark. And, with him, it’s all about the pursuit. I don’t believe dogs really taste. They barely chew, and the only thing he won’t eat is things that are slippery, like apples and grapes. If it’s too much work to get in his mouth and it slides off his tongue, it doesn’t pass his taste test. Everything else goes down in a flash. In fact, I made cookies the other night and there were some (about eight) still on wax paper sitting on the counter. I ran upstairs and within mere minutes came down to the wax paper on the floor and Dixon grinning from ear to ear. There is absolutely no way he even tasted those cookies, and I can assure you they were very good.

I guess when it comes down to it I love Top Chef because, well, those folks can cook, and I can’t. Pretty simple, really. They over indulge, get little sleep, bunk in close quarters, behave badly at times, have way more tattoos than anyone I know (is that a chef thing?), but I’m telling you, they can cook.

Here’s what I don’t get, though. How is it that Tom Colicchio, Padma Lakshmi and Gail Simmons aren’t each as big as a house? All they do is eat, or so it looks like. They taste dish after dish and manage to keep shoving it in. That alone is pretty phenomenal to me.

It appears that anyone that actually makes it on that show can cook, and cook very well. I know these folks haven’t just bumbled their way out of grandma’s kitchen. Many own restaurants or are executive chefs at high quality establishments.  Back home, wherever that may be, I assume they’re already considered top-notch in their profession – not exactly looking to do some home cooking on the side.

It’s Top Chef in Vegas, Baby!

I guess it’s unrealistic to think that once and awhile I could get one to come over and cook a meal for me and well…me.  That means I’ll have to settle for watching them on TV and fantasizing about having their skills and then actually having people to be the receiver of those skills in action.

I think my plan is to keep watching and keep being amazed by the incredible talents of the contestants. And while I don’t think it will EVER motivate me to become a better cook, – really, there’s no point unless I adopt another family – it does serve as my wonderful Wednesday night escape into other people’s reality. I can’t wait for tonight’s 10 p.m. serving.