Objet d'Fart

Warning!  This post contains gratuitous photos of NUDITY. Queue up some Barry White, lock your children in their rooms, pop open a box of wine and revel in the glory that is the naked human form. You're welcome.

In the Kansas City area, there are two petitions circulating that are pushing to remove what they deem to be sculptures of "offensive nature".    One petition wishes to remove an "inappropriate" sculpture at the Overland Park Arboretum and Botanical Gardens:

Another petition concerns "offensive" statues of Bare, Naked Ladies in the Country Club Plaza area:

OH MY GOD.  NEKKED LADY BITS!  Hide your children.... hide yourselves.  No seriously.  Hide yourself.  Because if you are offended by art like that?  You have got a mighty thin skin and probably should never leave your house.  Grab your Bible, fire up Faux News on the telly and settle in for a long, hot summer.

The best part of all of this is that these petitions were spear-headed by the lovely (not) American Family Association (a group that targets gays and lesbians), a Chinese Baptist Church and a bored housewife, Joann Hughes (to whom I would suggest just buying 50 Shades of Grey already).  It's a joke in the making, except I doubt any of these folks ever enter bars.  But the SECOND best part is this bit from the Hughes regarding the statue at the Arboretum:

No matter what the artist’s intent, she thinks the sculpture is, on the whole, “too mature for young eyes” and has the potential to expose children to difficult and unexpected images and force parents into conversations with children that they may not be ready to have.

“I didn’t take the time to understand the artist’s message,” Hughes said. “I was really thinking, ‘Good grief, what is that doing here?’ It is vulgar. It is provocative. I thought it was glorifying sexting. For me, it is very offensive.”

Hughes said she is not asking for the piece to be destroyed or hidden from public view. She thinks it needs to be in a museum or other more adult venue.

She rejects any argument that likens the arboretum sculpture to, say, naked figures from Greek or Roman antiquity or the works of Michelangelo or Rodin.

“I have seen the statue of David in person,” Hughes said of Michelangelo’s masterpiece. “It is beautiful. He’s also not taking a picture of his penis. There is a difference there. The message is different.”

(Sidenote: I wonder if the American Family Association knows that their fellow in arms supports gay artists such as Michelangelo and Rodin?  When will the madness stop!???)

Anyway! Here is what I think about Bare, Naked Ladies:

I think the human body is beautiful and it is simply not my place to judge an artist's interpretation of it.  Aesthetically, I do not really care for the art that is the subject of the Arboretum petitions.  But I do not support the stifling of it, either.

Last July, I took Team Chaos to see the Monet Water Lilies Exhibit at the Nelson-Atkins Art Gallery.  I adore Thomas Hart Benton and wanted to share some of that with the kiddos as well.

Honestly? They did not really notice the lovely Persephone there with the creepy farmer in the background leering lasciviously at her.   Furthermore, later in the main hall, they did not notice the Greek statues of naked men with their junk hanging over our heads like wrinkly bunches of grapes.

And lest you think the Nelson-Atkins  is not meant for children, let me point out their Youth and Family Programs for your viewing pleasure. In fact, I was at the Nelson a few weeks ago and that very same program was hosting something just a few paintings down from the gorgeous painting of Persephone and her agrarian stalker.

But don't tell Joanne Hughes that.

What say you, Gentle Reader?  Would you risk your precious progeny's eternal soul on this one?  When does art cross the line into obscenity?

A New Machine (Part 1)

Pink Floyd, A Momentary Lapse of Reason 1987

Officially, every person in our household now has a computer.  Manoj happened across a small computer for free and he is rebuilding it over the weekend for Anjali.  Yes, we are Those People whose kids learn how to type their names before they can write them.  Judge amongst yourselves.

In other news, my Kindle hath taketh over.  Since Valentine's Day, I have read nearly 8 books, one of which was a heavy book made from heavy paper and oh my god, it was HEAVY.  And it took me forever to read that book because I actually had to carry it.  Did I mention the "heavy" part"?  Cramped hands.....paper cuts..... tragic

Furthermore, I am officially afflicted with KISS - Kindle Impulse Spending Syndrome.  There is no known cure other than a firm predilection for self-denial.  Ah, KISS!  Hop on over to the Kindle Store.  Find a book.  Click once and that book is Whisper-netted right to your device within seconds. Que magnifique!  Oh sure, this is Awesome when you are looking for something specific.  However, this is Not So Awesome when you are bored on a Friday night while enjoying a glass of wine (or two) (Stop with the judging.)  (I can HEAR  you.)

Additionally, KISS has a grave complication whereby the Kindle inexplicably allows you to read faster. I am reading even more books than before.   I have yet to solve this conundrum - does the Kindle transport me into some alternate reading universe where time wrinkles faster than my grandma??  Anyway, this time warp has gotten Tony Soprano Serious because effectively, it means I NEED MORE BOOKS. Now!  Before my Kindle gets all Marine Corp over my reading ass. Hurry! Hurry! Those books won't Whisper-net themselves, you idiot.

None of this was helped by the fact that I found a new author obsession on Saturday.  I read Dennis Lehane's Shutter Island over the weekend and am now on Mystic Island.  He also has a PI series that looks intriguing.  When I fire up the Kindle Store now, my modem yawns and says "You?  Again?"

In conclusion: I have officially Whisper-netted myself into what will surely be an interesting conversation with my husband when the next credit card statement arrives.

The Gnome

Pink Floyd, The Piper at the Gates of Dawn 1967

Norman's 1/10/11 Status:

After that snowstorm was over?

Norman's 1/19/11 Status:

What a loser!  He has a frocking shovel, you would think if he had half a brain, he would have used it to get a jump on shoveling his sorry gnome ass out when he had the chance.  For Shiva's sake, his little buddy Newman is crouching and has no shovel and now, you can only see the teensy point of his hat.

RIP, Newman.  We hardly knew ye.

And yes, the Christmas lights were still out and on.  What part of "Oliver" do you people not understand???

Nobody gets me.

So! at some point this week, I morphed from a stay at home mom sorta person to a person with a J-O-B which is not blogging related whatsoever and pays real currency (as opposed to free samples of chewing gum, bacon-flavored lollipops, meat thermometers, and hand soap.)  Go me!  The transformation was not magical, I am not sparkly or bloodthirsty (much).  No, it was far more urbane than that - involving upgraded resumes, scanned contracts and signatures.  And poof!  I am no longer a slacker, eating bons bons while watching my stories as my kids hover in saggy diapers -- now, I'm a worker.

For those of you just joining the circus here, I have long been vocal about how much I love staying home with my kids and how little of it actually involved staying at home.  I re-read those posts and they still stand mostly true, with adjustments for maturity in my children.  And myself.

Also, I love my crow served warm, smothered in Cholula sauce.

I do love staying home and I am mixed about this working gig.  However.  This opportunity that came was too good to pass up - it is part-time, from the comforts of my dining room and is in a professional capacity with a manager who is willing to be flexible (he has already offered the use of iPad as an entertainment option should I need to bring Arun along to a meeting).  It requires using dormant skill sets which need to be updated.  And it is in the financial services industry, which has long been my favorite of the industries in which I have experience.  I have always been interested in risk management, in particular, fraud prevention.  This is a great time to ramp up my knowledge in that area and get on board with the new legislation.

Quite simply, I would have been a colossal idiot to not jump on this opportunity.

Truly, the timing of this offer was terrible.  Our schedule is crazy, with Arun and Anjali in school at different times.  On Mondays and Wednesdays, in particular, I am at home in 1-2 hour increments with FOUR separate trips to their school scattered throughout the day.

However, the timing of this offer was also perfect.  On the days that we are home, Arun and Anjali love hanging out together and playing.  I can squeeze in the work hours needed, while they play the 100th game of "Koopa Kids" (don't ask, I have yet to figure out the rules.) I can work in the evenings or the weekends. Additionally, Manoj has a lot of flexibility with his own schedule, so we are able to trade off on duties.

I am really nervous, I have mixed emotions but mostly I am excited.  And intrigued.  I am not sure how much I will talk about my work life here, but I did ask Lag Liv for advice on "blogging about work" and she wrote a post about it.  Feel free to comment here or there if you have additional pearls on blogging about work, or even working life/balance with kids in general.

Historically, I have been pretty bad about balance - if I was needed at work, I always tried to be there.  But now I have kids, so the gig has switched up on me.  Oh sure, I have worked with Manoj in the past, but it is a very different situation working with someone who shares a vested interest in your kids taking a nap or not melting down from sheer boredom. Indeed.

Anyway, I will stop there.  I have more to write about as I figure this out - meal planning, hobbies planning, "how to not lose my mind" planning.  You know. The usual.

For enduring that drivel, I am going to throw out some Simian Snappage and then run away.....

I have started a Flickr set called "Fashion Victim"  because even Coco Chanel had to begin somewhere.  Also, if anyone has tips for how to get my daughter to wear something besides summer skirts and dresses in the middle of January (Cheese and fries!!), I would be appreciative.  Furthermore, half of her wardrobe is deemed unacceptable due to a dearth of bows, ribbons or flowers.  So much for all of that careful garage sale hunting and clearance rack scuffling last year.

I love this picture with Lucy snuggled up so close to him.

We have a "backyard" neighbor where we share a backyard fence.  On snowdays, we trade playdates to ease the boredom and cabin croup.  What is hilarious is that to get to each other's houses, we have to completely bundle up and trudge around the block through the snow.

Wish You Were Here.

Pink Floyd, Wish You Were Here 1975

I have been meaning to post. But like, wow.  This has been an amazing holiday season, folks.  But first, let me preface with what I have learned this season.

If you are not feeling the Christmas spirit, let it go.  There are always other years.

However, if are feeling the Christmas spirirt, then embrace and go Girls Gone Wild with it.  You may not feel this way next year.

Just call me your Christmas Confucius.  You are welcome.

Last year was so bad.  So very, very bad.  I was so busy working on the now defunct Snapgifts that I did the bare minimum of Christmas Pageantry.  However, this year everything is simply perfect. It helps that we have had loads of free time.  And also, the Team of Chaos are like real people now. Really! They are no longer mutants with non-working legs and a strong propensity to crap in their pants.  Nope, these days they can walk of their own accord and use toilets.  Like humans.  For another, they understand the whole Christmas Thing now.  And oh my, it is so much goddamned fun having miniature humans in this house who believe with all their souls that Santa is real.  The flurry of activity around here with markers and papers is hilarious.

I never want to forget this past month - mostly, it has been simply magical and special and delicious.  Of course, having a small cache of kifli smothered in powdered sugar has not hurt.

Exhibit A: A small portion of Arun's Christmas "List"

That is a frog in a cage.  A toy frog, thank the baby lord jesus.

Bowser from Super Mario Bros. and a robot spider (because a real, live tarantula is not enough for my greedy boy who craves batteries like heroin.)

What?  I have to tell you that is an IronMan mask?  Really?  Have you NO imagination?

The best part is that with each successive Santa he meets, Arun changes his list in a desperate attempt to get more lootage.  He has figured out the scam and is trying to work the system to his advantage.  That's my boy, doing me proud.

Exhibit B: Advent Calendars Galore

Some looped garland thing made at school.  Anjali tried to use hers as a leash for the dog.

A tree drawn on a piece of paper with dates on it.  He circles the date every morning, then crosses it off at night.  He does not laugh or giggle or get goofy with it.  This is serious business, folks.  And the marker must be a consistent shade of green or there is hell to pay.

A calendar that I bought years and years and years ago while dreaming of having a husband and matching kids around to hang the ornaments.  Sniff.

Every morning, Arun hops out of bed and updates every single calendar.  Even the garland thing that Anjali gave up on long ago.  He carefully marks his paper tree, cuts loops from the garlands and hangs a wee ornament every morning.  This is fascinating to observe because normally, Arun is grumpy when he wakes up and takes about 30 minutes to reach Human Status.  Christmas miracles, indeed.

Exhibit C: Our Annual Trip to Union Station and Crown Center

Items Missing From These Exhibits:

• The gingerbread house carefully handcrafted with a hot-glue gun.  Martha Stewart has probably issued a warrant for my arrest as we speak.  Although, in my defense, I do live in Kansas and that house could now withstand an F5, in addition to a hungry West Highland terrier.
• A huge pile of wrapped gifts from Arun hidden in his bedroom (at least, he thinks they are hidden.)  He holes up in his bedroom with paper, markers, wrapping paper and scotch tape while he handwraps his "creations".  At this point, Santa is getting two presents and even the fish is one lucky duck.  He sneaks next door and proudly hands over his latest creation to our neighbor while declaring "Special delivery for Zech!" 
• I do have a picture in the Christmas 2010 set I have started from our our excursion to the Liberty Hall Christmas Tree Festival.  We do the festival every year with my mom and sister and cousins.  It is a lovely way to start off the holiday season.
• A visit to Bass Pro and Santa and a visit to their craft area which resulted in a beautiful fishing bobber Santa ornament decorated with cotton balls.
• Decorating gingerbread cookies.  This is HUGE.  I have never, ever done this.  Sure, I used a tub of pre-made dough (Yes! Nestle!) but considering how deathly allergic I am to baking, this is ground-breaking.  I even broke out the fancy pastry mat.
• Multiple special excursions in the car to look at Christmas lights.
• Sending out Christmas Cards - I was on-time with cards this year!  I will never forget that dark, dark January of 2008 when I had a 6month old baby and a recently-minted 2 year old while I was in the wily grasp of post-partum depression - I actually discovered a huge stack of Christmas cards lurking in a drawer.  They were addressed, but were not sealed and had no stamps.
• The look on my face over this past weekend when I received not one, but TWO Christmas gifts from Brit.  Both of which were incredibly thoughtful, unique gifts which made me cry.  The nerve!  I need to rethink this friendship thing if she is going to make me cry TWICE in a single weekend. Rude.
• The look on my face when CPA Mom sent me an extra copy of the Charlie Brown Christmas special she "had laying around".  In one fell swoop with a Random Act of Undeserved Kindness, she completely turned around a really bad week I had been having. Speaking of rude.  Ahem.
• The look on my face when I realized the other day that I had vastly underestimated the amount of continuing education hours I need to complete by the end of year to keep my CPA license intact. Sarbanes-Oxley, ahoy and a Merry Christmas!
• The look on my face when I discovered that Angry Birds Seasons was finally, finally available for the PalmPre. No worries, I will show those bastard, cloven-hooved swine who is boss.
• The look on my face when Manoj gave me some incredibly good news regarding his latest business incarnation - a business that has to do with colonoscopy prep so I call it the Butthole Business.  Because I am classy like that.  Hey, you can marry the girl off to an Indian, slap on the name  of George, but she will still always be an Oliver. Always.
• Attending Average Jane's Annual Cookie Exchange and having a blast gorging on cookies, watching Bad(er) Santa and having some girl time - a perfect way to spend a Saturday afternoon. To boot, I plied Celeste with wine and somehow convinced her that she should inherit Team Chaos in the event that Manoj and I get eaten by a roving band of rabid squirrels (which considering my archives, is not so far-fetched.)  I also found a potential home for Lucy in the event of our demise (thanks, LuAnn!) Suckers! Now, I just need to track down spots for the fish, the gecko, the cats and the tarantula, then find a lawyer and make this all official-like. 
• Enjoying Arun and Anjali's Christmas concert at their school.  Nothing like a group of wee tots terrorized in the spotlight, barely whispering Rudulph.  Arun insisted on wearing his Santa hat, even on stage and was the only kid wearing a Santa hat.  His spot in the Kingdom of Total Dorkitude is assured.
• Repeating viewings of our favorite Christmas movies (including, but not limited to): Elf, White Christmas, It's a Wonderful Life, Love Actually, Robbie the Reindeer.  I still need to squeeze in Christmas Vacation and A Christmas Story.  The clock is a' ticking so I best get my rump in action.
• Repeated readings of our favorite Christmas books (including, but not limited to) Olive the Other Reindeer, Snowmen at Christmas, The Snowglobe Family, Mooseltoe and now, thanks to Brit, The Dinosaurs' Night Before Christmas.
• Lighting all the candles on the mantle, getting a good fire going, then turning on the Christmas tree lights and just sitting quietly.  Relishing.  My house will never be Martha Stewart Ready.  But it will always be my home.  And that is more important to me.

We still have an outing planned to see the Country Club Plaza lights and I have another tub of gingerbread dough in the refrigerator.  Presents still need to be wrapped and the house needs to be scoured before guests arrive Friday night.  However, I have plenty of time to do all of this.

Amazing. 

My grandma handed down this heavy stained glass and iron tree to me years ago.  There were many years in college and after when I simply could not afford a Christmas tree and this little luminary had to make do.  If I put only one decoration up on my mantle, it will always be this tree because of what it has come to represent to me.

Merry Christmas to all of you and make the most of whatever you have.

Having my babies, good food and a warm home is more than enough for me.

Show me the money. Pssst! It's in my mouth.

Update: With my permission, Lenore took this story, edited it and put it on her site. Now, it is all sparkly and pretty! I wish I could always have an editor. Would that not make blogging just grand?? Yes. Yes, it would.

I have made no secret of my love for Lenore Skenazy and her site, Free-Range Kids. I believe wholeheartedly in her message: "Children, like chickens, deserve a life outside the cage. The overprotected life is stunting and stifling, not to mention boring for all concerned."

I had to reach deep inside of my heart last night for that message.

Last night, I went to Tonganoxie to attend the Leavenworth County Fair with my sister and her kids. It was the typical fair scene - flashing lights worthy of a seizure, cheap stuffed animals hanging by their necks, chaotic noises of bells, buzzers and carnival music, the smell of grease lingering with the heavy scent of livestock. The fair.

It is a fair that was the highlight of my summers for the 7 years I lived in Tonganoxie and it was the place in town to be for that entire week. Because everyone was at the frocking fair- even that cute boy you spied from a neighboring town in that track meet last spring would be there. You begged your mom to make sure that your new school clothes were bought before the fair, so that you could wear them to the fair. THE FAIR. Ah, yes! This was a place with which I was so familiar and comfortable.

And none of that mattered one damned bit when Arun went missing. He was with my sister and headed towards me, but at some point disappeared. He was gone, it was dark and the population of folks seemed to be multiplying before my very eyes.

When my kids break dishes or create messes, I completely freak out. However, when my kids are in serious trouble, it is as if I enter some sort of tunnel of time dimensional warpitude and nothing else matters. Nothing. Everything around me becomes a hazy blur as I concentrate on my task at hand.

So, I leaped into action, handed Anjali over to my sister and told her to stay put with everyone. And then, I methodically and calmly searched for him. March...march....march..... I saw some police officers and made a beeline for them as I calmly told them the situation. After the longest 10 (15?) minutes of my life, someone found Arun. As my sister had stood in place, she told everyone she encountered about Arun being lost and someone brought him back to us.

Arun was not really aware that he was lost - in his mind, he was just hanging out by the super slide. What's the problem, yo? I explained to him what happened and told him to thank the police officers for helping. We also had a very long talk about it on the way home.

The whole experience is still a little surreal to me and I have not cried.

What would I do differently? Last night, I had dressed Arun in a green shirt, but it was a darker green which was so not helpful in a grassy field in the dark. I will definitely do brighter colors next time. And! I will snap a picture of each kid on my cell phone at the beginning of events like this. And! I will be looking into either doing a safety tattoos or a good, old-fashioned sharpie on the forearm. But that is it. Our days of the stroller are ending. I cannot keep my kids confined for much longer and I refuse to be afraid. I refuse.

The entire time I was searching for Arun, I was fighting back the rising panic rumbling in my stomach and that burning sensation on my pride that maybe, just maybe, this might be my You'll Shoot Your Eye Out! Moment. After all, who has posted endlessly about letting our children go? Who has been shamelessly taunting child predators everywhere? Was this the universe's lame attempt at bitch-slapping me?

I kept reminding myself of all of the sensible statistics that I have been reading on Lenore's site and in her book for the past year. I grasped those facts and figures tightly as my talisman while I searched. I knew that realistically, Arun was going to be okay. Afterward, my sister told me she was shocked at how calm I was during and after the whole thing.

I wasn't.

Do you care?

UPDATED: Commenter D. Jain point out that Max Factor is pulling out the US market. Which leaves me to wonder - What the HELL was the huge campaign all about then?? That's crazy. And now? I must find a new mascara. Obviously, I am open to suggestions. Excuse me, I need to go have a good cry.

My friend J grew up in the South - the region of the United States where the women folk take their hair and makeup quite seriously. She also has eyelashes like a giraffe. Way back in the 90s, knowing that J would have the Correct Answer, I asked her for advice on mascara. Her immediate answer was Max Factor's 2000 Calorie. And that is what I have been buying ever since. End of story, no? No. Target, my usual purveyor of makeup does not carry Max Factor, which means I have to scurry over to the Scary Wal-Mart when I run out. I hate Scary Wal-Mart and often cannot justify navigating its Scary Aisles just for a single tube of mascara. I am then reduced to taking a gamble and trying a new mascara, which invariably turns out to be a clumpy clunker.

I am very, very picky about mascara because my eyelashes are a tangled mess without an eyelash curler and a good mascara.

Anyway. After reading all the rave reviews about the new 2000 Calorie Lash Plumper Upper Thingie (and entering every! single! giveaway even though I rarely enter giveaways but hey, what the hell is this?? Two kids napping? A free Friday afternoon?), I picked up a tube at the Scary Wal-Mart this past weekend. Truthfully? I did not notice any new lash plumping capabilities. Perhaps, while waiting on the production line, my own tube reconsidered and said "No thanks. I'm good, yo." and then skipped its turn for a squirt of the Extra Magical Lash Plumping Potion??

Still. 2000 Calorie is the same damned good product I have been using for years and I was actually relieved that Max Factor had, after all, decided not to mess around with one of my favorite makeup products. I do despise the new packaging, though. The tube is HUGE and FAT and CURVED all wonky-like which means that it does not store well now in my cup of brushes, etc. Sure, it stands on its end. Quietly waiting for me to knock it over.
--------------------------

Whoa.

Do you see what I just did there? I wrote a review (sorta.) For a product for which I paid (cash!)

You may have noticed, but I do talk a bit about products and other consumables around here. Why? I like to read reviews myself - if someone has purchased something and has had a good or bad experience with it, I do not mind hearing about it. Also, for some products, it is hard to get an opinion, which is why I wrote a smallish bit about the Kids Fly Safe seatbelt system for flying. Dude - those things were expensive at $75 a pop. But they were worth it and I felt that should be noted.

Maybe my 3 loyal readers do not want me writing about the stuff I buy. Eh. Whatever. If it fits into my personal content or the story overall, I will mention it - which is why I mentioned the mascara, as an example. Otherwise, I probably would not have written about the mascara because makeup and girly things are not my usual topics around here and it would not have fit. But truthfully? I do not mind reading others' consumer experiences as well. After all, chances are that if I read your blog, I trust your opinion.

But, I do want to be upfront and as such, have recently added a bit about this on my Multiple Personalities section:
I like to talk about books and other sundry items around here. Let me be clear: Any and all products discussed here on Rancid Raves are things that I purchased myself with my very own grubby paws. I paid money for these items. I have a review site, Queen of the Free Bees for any products that I have received expressly for the purpose of reviewing.

There has been some talk surrounding this while I was out of town (which is why I am addressing all of this so late in the game. I am a sleepy sheep.) In this vein, Lindsey Ferrar of Suburban Turmoil has some great points regarding this (Part 1 and Part 2.)
In Part 1, she writes:
As a reader, I feel like that blogger has crossed a line, particularly if she's a mom blogger. If she is telling personal stories about her family, as a reader I don't want product reviews and sponsored posts woven throughout that written history. It feels exploitative. It feels wrong.

And my feelings as a reader of blogs are what made me decide as a blogger to start a separate review blog (and for that matter, what kept me from putting ads in between posts, as opposed to keeping them in my sidebar). I tried doing a few book reviews on this blog and they just didn't feel right, sandwiched between posts about my struggles with breastfeeding and pictures of my children.

In Part 2, she writes:
What you decide to do with your blog does not affect how I feel about you as a person. We can meet for lunch when we're in the same town, or drink martinis at Disney, or eat cheeseburgers together at BlogHer, or tell each other all our secrets, or chat online every single day.

What you decide to do with your blog does affect whether or not I want to read it.

And that's what my post was about. No hidden meanings. No innuendo. Just. That.

Lindsey has some great points. I can think of 3 bloggers off the top of my head that I simply had to quit reading because I could not sift through all the reviews and sponsored posts any longer. But I bear no ill will. I could really care less. Oh sure, I really do miss one of the bloggers in question. I still periodically check her site to see if she has pared down on all the giveaways, reviews and sponsored posts. When/if she ever does, I may add her back to my feed reader because I really enjoyed reading her perspectives on family life, entertainment and current news. I just did not have the time to sift through the rest of it. That was all. No hard feelings.

But really? Overall? I could care less if folks do ads, reviews, sponsored posts, exorcisms on their blogs. I can always stop reading. Me personally? I like having a separate review site - it is a clear line of distinction for myself. If I do decide to discontinue ads, I would still keep a review site, for whenever the God of Freebies determines I am worthy (Sidenote: I never get offers. The chances of this are slim to none.)

So.

To recap, when I mention products on Rancid Raves, I have forked over my own piece of plastic for it. If I have received something free for review, I will write about it on my review site, Queen of the Free Bees. Considering there are a total of 3 reviews over there, it is obvious how how far down on the Totem Pole of Freebies I hang.

Oh, and don't forget to pick up a tube of Max Factor's 2000 Calorie mascara. You will not regret it.

Truthfully?

I am not doing well. And while I call this my Happy Place and all that dreamy jazz, I have really been faking it lately.

A patent fury bubbles beneath my mental surface and I struggle to find the Good. I want to rant, not rave these days. And then, I find myself resisting the urge to issue diatribes over such mundane topics as folks in my neighborhood who do not recycle.

I am not a topical nor an entertainment blogger. This place is primarily a diary of sorts where I am my very own Audience of One. And I would be remiss to not at least reference this particularly difficult time for me. Besides, the pretense otherwise is wearing on me. I am bored with writing post after post after post in a gauzy, soft-focus perspective.

And yes, I am totally pulling the Dramatic Card. We are healthy, the children are fine, X's business is doing well. Everything is fine, just fine.

But still. I never want to forget this particular period of time. The anger at my friend's cancer, the disgust at family members rabidly picking through my great-aunt's possessions, the weariness of trudging through yet another day.

I need to remember it.

Continue as you were and ignore the dithering idiot.

Is this where I run out of questions?

A few weeks back, I received an email from a site called Grandparents.com or something like that, which is why I am not bothering with linkage. It seemed like a nice enough place, from what I saw. They sent me an email asking me about my parents and something about how our relationship has gone since I have had children, etc. I did not end up replying because I really had nothing to report. My mom, dad, and step-mom are all stellar grandparents. They are great with the kids, the kids adore all of them and the grandparents are respectful towards X and I with our parenting decisions. And yes, my Olathe Grandma makes all the typical Worrywort Comments for which she is famous - it seems, invariably my kids are under dressed for whatever the weather, be it July or August (pneumonia knows no season, did you not know?) Nonetheless, she is the first to compliment my sister and me on our parenting skills.

But my aunt? Is not. And she is vocal about it. Granted, our relationship has always been strained, even when I was a little girl, she did not like me (or my sister, for that matter) and she had very, very little to do with us when we visited our grandma. However, since she lives with my grandma, with whom my sister and I are extremely close, our aunt is an unavoidable fixture in our lives.

Overall, this aunt is good with my kids. Sorta. If she was not constantly trying to ply them with cheap toys and junk food, it probably would be okay. But, no. She is relentless in her corn syrupy, trans fat laden culinary assault on my kids (assaults delicately colored in a lovely hue of Red #40, of course.) And the best part, is this: After these nasty, sugary treats, the kids get crazy and............. wait for it.....wait for it...... Yep - you guessed it - my aunt then complains about how wild the kids are.

Okay, all of this bad enough - the fact that my aunt is purposefully giving my kids food that she knows I do not want them to eat. But folks, it gets better - she will ask/show the kids the food first and then pulls the Your Mother Routine by telling the kids, "ask your mother" or "no, your mother won't let you have this". Listen, I do not mind being the bad guy. Ask Arun! Go ahead! He will tell you that I cackle with reckless abandon as I go about denying him his heart's desire.

No, no....the worst part of all about this twisted relationship is when my aunt talks about me when I am in another room. The transgressions are far and wide - they involve under dressing, a lack of socks or footwear or a hat or just general standards of behavior/safety that she and I do not agree upon.

Yesterday, at my great-grandmother's cousin's wife's house, I dropped in at the estate sale to check in on my grandma( she is the executor of this relative's estate and it has been a strain on her, I thought she would love to see the kids.) My aunt was there, foisting crap on my kids again. At one point, when I was in another room, I heard "blah blah their mother blah blah". It did not anger me - frankly, none of this infuriates me. It does annoy me, but I know the score - I am happily married and have two lovely children. My aunt has never been married, never had children. Folks. I let a lot slide by the way side in the name of compassion.

However, in a fit of insomnia last night I realized something. Something that struck me hard and rattled around in my chest. Sure, I may be irked but I am able to brush this off. Whatever, right? On the other hand, she is spewing this verbal trash in front of my children. And therefore, it must stop.

The next time this happens, I am going to very clear and calm about it. I am going to tell her in no uncertain terms that I am teaching my kids to respect her. And I expect the same. From now on, I do not want her talking about me negatively in front of my children.

The end.

Isn't shutting a person up the same as shutting them down?

If we don't believe in freedom of expression for people we despise, we don't believe in it at all. ~Noam Chomsky

If you can't annoy somebody with what you write, I think there's little point in writing. ~Kingsley Amis

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And no, that first quote is not directed to anyone in particular. I am just saying that I would no more tell Bill O'Reilly or Sean Hannity to shut the hell up than I would Andrew Sullivan or Jon Stewart (although, admittedly, I would love to tell Ann Coulter AND Rush Limbaugh to both shut the fuck up already because the word "despise" does not adequately even begin to describe the degree to which I feel about them.)

So, what is this all about? Last week, I was hesitant to write about a controversy that exploded between two bloggers (both gals with far larger audiences than I have.) I did end up writing about the controversy, but what resulted was a watered-down version of what I was really thinking....really feeling..... I am still dissatisfied with that post and will forever be unhappy with it because it does not truly reflect what I thought about the whole thing. I am also disheartened because I wrote the post and then? Received emails about it. In fact, I received more emails than comments. Why? Because folks were not comfortable talking about it in public and thus, having their name associated with it. A few folks were flat out scared to even have their names publicly associated with it.

With permission, I am quoting a friend from one her emails (I repeat, with her permission. I would never, ever post a quote from someone without receiving express consent!)

Anyway....in regard to her unwillingness to comment publicly on my blog (a little-known, little-read blog at that!) my friend said this:

"What does that say about the blogging community at large? That I'm afraid to comment on a post that you were hesitant to write? I don't believe that the majority of the blogging community are vindictive snipes. But it really only takes one or two to ruin it for someone, especially if that one or two has a following of 30,000 folks.

I'm not sure what my point is, only that I'm a little shaky after the thought that we are starting to become self censoring because we fear a backlash from folks we don't even know."

Is this in our heads? Am I the only one afraid to talk about potentially controversial topics that may or may not concern popular bloggers? It is sad, but some folks are nervous. And not necessarily about the bloggers themselves, but about their crazy fans. And some of those fans are ready to leap with teeth bared and talons unsheathed if anyone remotely disagrees with their beloved blogger or dares to hurt that blogger's feelings.

It seems that some of us are scared of those bloggers with a larger audience and perhaps, there is some validity in that. Piss off the wrong blogger and their legions of fans with virtual torches and buckets of tar will hunt you down.

Is it just me, or does it seem there is a group of bloggers with large audiences who can take unmitigated swipes at others with little to no consequence? Am I imagining this? Am I crazy?

Wait a moment. Don't answer that last one.

How far west can you travel before you are heading east?

Nearly 2 years ago, our dishwasher had a tiny leak that really pissed off our wood flooring. We had the offended flooring ripped out and lived with sub-flooring thereafter. While it was just a small section near our sink, it was unsightly. Then, last fall, our downstairs toilet began leaking. While I fixed the leak, I managed to break the mechanism inside. It turns out, this mechanism was pretty important in the grand scheme of flushing, which as you can imagine, it sort of important to the entire function and purpose of a toilet. Ahem. So, we have not had a downstairs toilet for awhile now. Which was not too bad because we are blessed with two additional toilets upstairs. However, it did mean that when folks came to visit they got a peek into the mayhem germinating in our rooms upstairs. Yikes o' rama. Finally, as all of this has been going, our back deck has slowly been coming apart at the seams. Literally. Last year, I had no desire to plant anything back there or even spend time back there because it was a constant reminder that the damned thing was slowly rotting away before our eyes. So, we hung out in the front yard like ostriches.

Last week, in one fell swoop, I got all of that fixed. New floor, new toilet innards (and seat!) and new deck stain.

Then? An amazing thing happened. I began clearing clutter from the yard and rearranging pots. I bought new seat covers for the chairs, a new cover for the grill. I pittered around the garage a bit. I cleaned out my car - even taking out the the kids' carseats and confronting The Nasty lurking underneath. I also did a myriad of other tasks that have been lingering on my Honey Do list for ages. I am feeling inspired to tackle even more tasks.

Obviously, the long-neglected broken items were a vast metaphor for other things going on in my life. Regardless, I am excited about finally getting a grip and getting some things done around here. I am tired of living amongst heaps of Things To Do. I am excited to finally get things cleared out. It will take awhile, but our neighborhood garage sale looms in April - an attainable goal.

Whoa. I am so ready to take on life again. It had best watch its back.


Reminder! Don't forget to enter the giveaways going on at my review site: Queen of the Free Bees. I am giving away a copy of the Rookie Mom's Handbook and a $25 gift certificate to Build-A-Bear. The deadline for leaving a comment is Midnight, February 14th.