I got a call this morning from this guy who said he was with the Dove foundation.  They've actually been calling my house for the last month and a half and not leaving messages -- this is the first time they've caught me at home.  He starts out by asking for the "lady of the house."  Right.  I thought about saying "This is she" in my most gravelly voice, but I just told him that there was no "lady of the house."  (Little did he know.)  Then he asked for the man of the house.  Not sure who he thought I was...some random neighbor that answers the phone for kicks?  I told him I was.  He explained, after practically begging me not to hang up, that they were doing a survey on violence in entertainment.  He asked if I had children or grandchildren under the age of something (I don't remember), and when I told him I didn't, he pretty much hung up on me.  Nice.  Great way to start the day.  I rolled out of bed for this.

Had he given me half a chance (and maybe if I wasn't half-asleep), I would have given him my opinion on the subject regardless.  I have lots of opinions (as evidenced by this blog) and I love to share them.

I think way too much focus is given to violence in the media -- TV, movies, video games, whatever.  I think it's a cop out.  Not that I'm particularly fond of bloody movies, but even if I was, I doubt they would make me want to go on some sort of killing spree.  I remember when the video game "Doom" was first released for PC.  Now that I'm a grown-up (HA!), I can't stand video games.  But when I was 13 or whatever, Doom was very cool.  My uncle had it on his computer, and if I was babysitting my nephews and they were occupied with a movie or something, I could play it.  This was the game that took violence to a new level.  The point, as I recall, was to kill as many bad guys as possible without dying.  I'm sure there was some sort of mission involved, but who cared?  And when you killed the bad guys, they didn't just dissapear off the screen like in the old games.  Oh, no.  They died.  Gruesomely.  Blood splatters.  Sound effects.  The works.  I loved it.  And believe it or not, I am not an axe murderer.  I even know a few people that will tell you that I'm a nice person to be around (if you catch me on a good day).  The point is, I was totally engrossed in this video game that allowed me to massacre people as violently as possible, and I would like to think that I'm relatively well-adjusted anyway.

Don't get me wrong.  Of course there should be limits.  I think a child of 13 is far better to grasp the reality than a child of, say, 5.  But let's get serious here.  There is no way that anyone can convince me that a child old enough to know right from wrong cannot also know that a movie or video game is make-believe.

That said, I certainly don't see anything wrong with the parental controls that are in place for movies and now for video games.  A parent is able to see the age-appropriateness of the given entertainment, and oftentimes see why it received the rating it did, and then make their decision based on that.  But when a 6-year old is playing Mortal Kombat or watching a violent movie, that strikes me as being more of a parental issue than an entertainment issue.

One issue seems to be that while these parental controls are in place, and while a system has been set up to identify material that may be inappropriate for children, marketing teams are still trying to sell their products to kids.  An article on the Federal Trade Commission's website discusses this.  Still, though, I wonder if a lot of people aren't making this out to be a bigger deal than it really is.  Let's say a 16-year-old purchases a CD that is labeled for explicit lyrics.  Let's be honest here.  What could possibly be on that CD that can't be heard in the halls of their own high school?

An interesting theory is that kids/teenagers prone to violence are more likely to surround themselves with violent entertainment -- but that violent entertainment does not cause violence in (for lack of a better term) normal youth.  This is outlined in the book Kid Stuff: Marketing Sex and Violence to America's Children, edited by Diane Ravitch and Joseph P. Viteritti.  Now, I have not read this book, but a summary of its thesis is outlined in this Washington Times article.

I'm really not trying to upset anyone here.  What gets me so angry is that people are trying to pin the blame for violent acts on something as simple as a video game or movie, which I think is dangerous.  And when we begin talking about what "violence" to ban, that amounts to censorship, which is fundamentally wrong.  Believe me, if you, as a parent want to limit what your child watches or plays with, particularly in their formative years, I would call that good parenting.  But let's not try to decide as a society what's good for everyone.

Ok, I've kicked my soapbox into its corner for now.  A couple of updates.  I saw Steve today and met Warren.  Warren is very nice.  I liked him a lot.  Yay Steve!  I'm glad that I can live vicariously through someone.

Mike's identity theft issue may not be the disaster it looked like at first.  He took all of the appropriate steps, which means that he gets to keep his SSN and doesn't have to close his bank accounts and fool around with all kinds of red tape.  The police were remarkably unhelpful.  However, the phone company is of the mind that it's most likely a keying error on the part of one of their operators.  It's far from resolved, but at least not a huge disaster.

I went to a bar for the first time since my surgery tonight.  I thought it would be fun.  I've been so bored being well-behaved.  I only had two drinks, and they were very spaced out with lots of water in between.  It didn't matter.  It still felt like someone stuck a flaming poker into my back.  I didn't even catch a hint of a buzz.  Guess I'm sober for a while longer.  *sigh*

For a really very good and different read, try Dark Sister, by Graham Joyce.  It's set in England and is the story of a mother who discovers herbalism and witchcraft in a modern setting.  Many parts of it are obviously fantasy, but as someone with a working knowledge of herbal medicine and aromatherapy, there was a lot of fact mixed in, showing (at least through a good chunk of the book) how realistic and "Earthy" a lot of so-called "magic" really is.  At any rate, it's a very entertaining book and I recommend it.

Evidently, overcome by mirth (or something), I screwed up a link on my post about hot saucing.  The link that's supposed to take you to Amazon.com's page with the book reviews for Lisa Welchel's book takes you to her website instead.  Sorry.

Here's the content of the review I found most enlightening.  By all means, go to their website to read the others if you'd like, but it's my blog and it's OK if I'm biased.  :-)  This was written by Brandon L. Harlow of Colonial Heights, VA and is copied verbatim from Amazon's site (that's probably illegal, but...):

While I would never do the things to my children that this book advocates, I can't help but laugh at all the pseudo-torture techniques that are laid out verbatim.

Like the Marquis de Sade, Lisa Whelchel spins scenario after scenario of ways to make your children mind their elders and pay for their sins. My personal favorites include "saucing" a lying tongue, making your child run barefoot through doggie doo in the backyard, splashing a bucket of ice cold water in a toddler's face and emptying the garbage can on their bedroom floor! Each punishment is also concluded with a psalm (from the toolbox) to further drill it into your child's mind that God = pain. Can't wait to see the next generation of christians this will turn out.

Lisa also informs us of the time she took young son Tucker to a psychologist and how he told about Daddy's spankings. Lisa said she gripped the steering wheel in fear just knowing that Child Protective Services had been called, but when they never showed up she chalked it all up to praying to Jesus really hard. Hmmmmm.

I'll say it again.  Sounds like a very balanced lady.

This is just totally bizarre.  Evidently there is a popular new way to punish children for being naughty called "hot saucing."  When a child is bad, you take a drop of Tobasco or other hot-pepper sauce and put it on the child's tongue, causing him or her pain.  The theory is the pain will deter the child from misbehaving.

I had never heard of this before.  When I was a little kid, if I misbehaved, I got smacked.  Before people misconstrue my import here, I am so not advocating child abuse.  But I do think people are getting very creative.  I read about this in a local paper while on my lunch at work a couple of days ago.  I asked some of my collegues if they had heard of it -- they hadn't.  One (an older lady) said she once washed her son's mouth out with soap.  Sort of the same principle, I guess.

It gets better.  This practice is advocated by Lisa Whelchel.  You may remember her as Blair from the 80s TV show "The Facts of Life."  Inasmuch as I've thought about her, I guess I thought she'd dropped off the face of the earth completely.  Oh, no!  She's written a book: Creative Correction: Extraordinary Ideas for Everyday Discipline.  (I've linked the title to Amazon's page -- most of the readers' reviews were positive, but there was one I found very funny!)  Now, I haven't read the book, so this is all hearsay, but evidently she backs up her discipline methods with quotes from the Bible.  She also apparently advocates things like pinning a child's tongue with a clothespin for swearing.  Sounds like a balanced lady.

Now, my medical background isn't good for much anymore, but I did put it to use thinking about this hot saucing thing.  I know that high concentrations of capsaicin (the "hot" chemical in hot peppers) can cause swelling, which could theoretically cause choking, but I guess I'm skeptical about whether a drop of a diluted pepper sauce like Tobasco would be strong enough for an effect like that.  Also, theoretically, capsaicin could cause blistering of the tongue.  But again -- would a drop of Tobasco, immediately diluted by saliva, be strong enough?  Though, are you willing to take the chance?  The fact that a hot sauce could cause choking or blistering to a child should maybe be enough of a deterrant to not try it, even though these consequenses may never occur.

I asked my coworkers what their thoughts were.  It was odd.  They couldn't really seem to verbalize a good reason why it would be a bad thing to do, but seemed to feel that it was wrong anyway.  It poses an interesting question.  The article I read in the paper did mention that hot saucing was "actionable" by CPS is Minnesota, but they've only had a couple of cases.  And while I definitely don't want to discount the amazing good done by Child Protective Services, I would think a lot of things could be considered "actionable" when taken into or out of context.

So, the moral of this story is now I'm curious.  What do you all think about hot saucing?  I did find an article online that seems to give a pretty balanced viewpoint.

Now, if you're interested in reading something that doesn't advise you on how to bring up your children (not having any myself, I imagine I would not find Whelchel's book to be enlightening reading), I'm going to suggest Alec Baldwin Doesn't Love Me (and other trials from my queer life), by Michael Thomas Ford.  It's comedy, pure and simple.  Michael Thomas Ford is gay, but he's about as un-stereotypical as you can get.  I'm not sure how many straight people would get it, but between chuckles, I'd catch myself saying "Hmm, I've done that."  He's like Erma Bombeck with a bicep fetish.  Truly hilarious.  And he's just nerdy enough that I could see myself dating him. 

I'm worried about my friend Mike.  He just called me to tell me he's been the victim of identity theft.  I almost thought he was kidding at first, but he wasn't.  He received a call from a collection company because he hadn't been making payments on his Verizon cell phone.  When he informed them that not only did he not have a cell phone or phone plan from Verizon, he never has had one, they verified his name, address and social security number.  Ahh!  They advised him to contact the police.  What seems odd is that evidently, for a while the bill was getting paid.  Even more interesting is that, although they have his address, he never received a bill.  I love to give advice to people, and in this instance I think it would have even been welcomed (!), but what do you tell someone who's had this happen?  I wouldn't even know where to begin.  Obviously he's going to the police in the morning, and he's contacted the credit report company and his Visa company, but I wonder just how far-reaching this is going to be.  I would hate to think of having to change one's SSN -- can you imagine the red tape and months and months of bureaucratic bullshit that would be involved?  He was talking about closing his checking account.  I talked him into waiting until he at least got advice from the police; I mean, if whoever did this had his PIN, I would think they'd have made their move by now, considering this cell phone account has existed for several months.  What do you do?

Talked to Steve tonight.  He's definitely coming this weekend, so I'll get to see him and meet Warren (Warren!) on Saturday.  Totally can't wait.  And I'm glad he's finally met someone.  Last year I visited him around thanksgiving because it was the first year he wasn't going to get to go back to his folks' house for the holiday.  I cooked an enormous turkey dinner for just the two of us -- that poor kid had to have been eating leftovers past new year's.  The way he talks about Warren I can tell there's something there.  I hope I don't hate him.  :-)

I've got way too much to do tomorrow, but I've been neglecting my book selections (that only one person reads).  Here's one that's kind of a thriller, but not quite in your classic "Steven King" sense: Missing Monday, by Matthew Costello.  (I'm just going to copy the back of the book here:)  On Sunday night Janna Wade went to sleep and had the dream.  The black clouds roiling in the sky...  The isolated farmhouse beckoning in the distance...  The stairway leading into nothing...  The choking sobs coming from behind the door...  When Janna does awaken, it's Tuesday -- an entire day lost.  Yet according to her friends she was at work, her emails were answered, her lunch dates were met, and her phone calls were returned.  In fact, it was a day just like any other.  Except Janna doesn't remember a thing.  It's as if she wasn't there at all.  And if Janna wasn't there, who was?  The answer comes with a stranger -- a woman who knows what becomes of Janna's lost nights...who knows what Janna dreams...and who knows that from now on, Janna's every waking hour will be a nightmare. 

Now, you know I could never come up with anything that hokey.  But I promise.  The book is very good.

Until next time...

I'm truly appalled at myself.  I noticed way too many typos in yesterday's post.  I have no excuse, especially considering the tongue-lashing I gave America last week about it's collective lack of writing skills.  Bad Mike.  Bad, bad Mike.  :-)

I do want to thank everyone who has commented so far on my gay rights rant.  I generally pride myself on being able to exist without outside validation, but it's nice when it comes unbidden.

Work, although hectic, was fun.  Whoa -- did I just say that??  For the last 10 months we've been planning Customer Service week for our department staff.  I'm one of the supervisors in a call center/customer service department.  Because the job is so awful, and the pay is even worse, once a year we plan a week full of games, prizes and good food.  This is my third CS week, but since I just got promoted in February, it's my first time helping to coordinate it.  We (the supervisors) all went in yesterday for 3 hours to decorate -- it's got a Halloween theme -- and we went completely over the top.  Even though the phones were busy today, everyone had a good time playing the games, and there was a pumpkin carving contest.  (I didn't enter...pumpkin guts made me gag as a child and I've never really gotten over it.)  There's something different planned for each day, and a costume contest on Friday.  I plan to win, but more on that later.

I heard back from Gatorade.  I tried going to their website at work and figured out what the problem was.  I've got a popup blocker on my home computer and evidently this was preventing me from entering their website.  Not that that's any excuse; at the very least, they should have wording on their site advising people to disable their popup blockers in order to enter.  So, the Gatorade people sent me an extremely formal email apologizing for my troubles.  Today I got a $2.00 coupon in the mail.  I win.  :-)

I'm very excited -- my friend Steve is coming to town this weekend.  He's bringing along his new boyfriend I've been so anxious to meet.  I haven't seen Steve since we went to Chicago in June.  We'll be going out for lunch, and then probably meeting up at the bar on Saturday night.  That's another cause for celebration: I haven't had anything to drink since my surgery.  I'm totally going to take it easy, but I can't wait to party at least a little.

I'm too upset and worried to write about the trivialities that usually make up my blog posts.  I won't be bitching about working on a Sunday and I won't be offering up a new reading opportunity.  You see, on November 2nd the nation will be voting, and there's one issue that will be decided that hits particularly close to home: gay rights. 

I am a gay man.  There are some thing I feel I deserve that most people take for granted: insurance benefits, job security, personal safety.  While I'm not dating anyone right now, I'd like to think that at some point in my life I might meet someone and fall in love, and should that happen I will want my relationship validated by not only my loved ones, but by the world.  I could be with the same man for 30, 40, 50 years, love him, stand by him, be essentially married to him, and under the current laws, were he to become ill, I wouldn't be able to visit him on his deathbed.  There is something fundamentally wrong with that.

I would imagine most people don't have any idea what it's like to be gay in this country.  While I could never even begin to elucidate the intricacies of what that three letter word means to someone living my life, I guess I have to try.  Being gay can be very scary.  Imagine what it is like not knowing if the people you've loved and trusted and confided in your entire life will even speak to you after finding out your "dirty little secret."  Or imagine what it must be like not being able to walk down the street holding hands with the person you love more than life itself without jumping at shadows, afraid of ridicule, hate and violence.  Imagine what it would be like sitting with your co-workers at lunch in your breakroom, listening to their stories about their weekends, knowing that if you tell the truth about yours (even though it never got steamier than a candlelit dinner for two), you could be terminated.  And yet people (mostly the religious right) still maintain that homosexuality is a choice.  Believe me, people, no one chooses this life.  With that said, however, take a look at the other side of the coin.  I never chose to be gay, but I don't think I would choose to change at this point.  It does not rule my life.  I have the same goals, dreams and flaws as anyone else.  With the exception of instances like these, I do not define myself by my sexuality any more than you do.  I am a smart, funny, attractive, hard-working, stubborn, pig-headed man who just so happens to harbor an attraction to other men.

But just because I am more like you than not like you does not make this issue unimportant.  Let's look at some of the facts.  On October 7, 1998, a young college student in Laramie, Wyoming named Matthew Shepard was lured from a bar, beaten, pistol-whipped, tortured, tied to a fence in a rural area and left for dead.  He was found 18 hours later by someone biking through the area and taken to the hospital, where he remained in a coma for 5 days before he died.  He was attacked because he was gay.  At his funeral, protesters waved signs with slogans like, "God hates fags," and "Matthew Shepard rots in Hell."

Here's a different example of the discrimination we face.  After over thirteen years at a Fortune 500 company, Joyce Perciballi of Canton had worked her way up from a position as a clerk to management. But in early 1994, following her own supervisor's announcement to the entire department that Perciballi was a lesbian, three supervisors interrogated her repeatedly about her sexual relationships, made false allegations against her, and, a week later, fired her.  There are 36 states in this country where Americans can be denied promotions or fired because of their sexual orientation.

And another.  In 1991, a little boy named Bert was born in Florida, HIV positive, a ward of the court.  He was placed in the capable hands of Steven Lofton and Roger Croteau, foster parents.  With three other toddlers, Bert grew up in a home filled with love.  He no has a detectable viral load.  Steven and Roger desperately want to adopt Bert, but in Florda (along with most other states) gay men are not allowed to adopt.  Currently, the Human Services department in Florida is actively looking for another home for Bert as well as Roger and Steven's other children.  Even though their home is the only home he has ever known, and even though these to men are more like fathers than any he could have had by blood, our system is trying as hard as possible to disrupt his young life.

Our current president, George W. Bush, supports the Federal Marriage Amendment that would deny me the right to marry a man I love.  He supports changing the US constitution to ban not only marriage but also domestic partner benefits.  He does not support the Employment Non-Discrimination Act which would prevent an employer from firing somone based solely on their sexual orientation.  Our president opposes the Local Law Enforcement Enhancement Act, which would provide additional hate crimes legislation.  He has failed to advocate for needed increased in federal spending for HIV prevention and care (which, believe me, is not just a "gay" problem).  He opposes allowing same-sex couples to adopt children.  He supports the current "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy in the military, which prohibits gay and lesbian Americans from serving their country openly.

I'm not trying to throw my sexuality in anyone's face.  But I feel threatened, and I feel the need to defend myself.  And you can help.  More than anything else, we, the Matthew Shepards, the Joyce Perciballis, the Berts, the Mikes of the world need you to vote.  Go to your polls and vote.  If there is someone running for office trying to limit the rights of gay men and women in this country, vote against that person and let him or her know that America is not the group of vile, hateful bigots the religious right would have you believe.  During this election, 12 states will also have constitutional amendements on the ballots limiting marriage -- and in some cases other rights and priveleges: Arkansas, Georgia, Kentucky, Louisiana, Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, North Dakota, Oklahoma and Utah.  If you live in one of these states, it's even more important to vote (if that's possible) -- not since the time of slavery has a constitution been used to limit the rights of a particular group of people. 

You can do other things as well.  Support the Human Rights Campaign.  This is an organization that tries to break down the walls of prejudice that are holding us back.  Write your congressperson or senator.  Write a letter to the editor of your local paper.  Talk to people and let them know how you feel.  But please, vote.

I know there will probably be many people reading this that disagree, some vehemently, with what I have to say.  And to you, I say this.  My marriage, my job, my benefits, my life do not harm you in any way.  I could get equal rights and your life will not change even one iota.  But you can spout your hate and bigotry and at the end of the day, I'm the one who's left hurt, not you.  I'm sure some people will even be tempted to add comments referencing Leviticus, telling me I'm a pervert and condemning me to hell.  Please restrain yourselves.  For one thing, believe me, I've heard it all before.  And probably more importantly, in the end, I'm afaid, no hell could be worse than the one that gay people all over America are forced to endure day after day, here and now.

I had an experience last night that I still find a litte ridiculous.  I've been drinking a lot of Gatorade lately to flush out my system.  One thing that's always bugged me about Gatorade is how hard the bottles are to open.  I mean, they're not like jars where you can pop a seal.  The other night I actually abraded the skin on a finger in the process (the tops have these sharp little ridges).  So, being the bitchy queen that I am, I decided to complain.  (Besides, it's true that the squeaky wheel gets the grease -- I've gotten more coupons for free products than I can count by complaining to those 800 numbers on product packagings.)  It was late, so I decided to go to their website, conveniently printed right on the label.  And what happens?  A little graphic pops up, but no way to enter the site!  Unbelieveable!  When you click the graphic, the page just reloads.  (Click here to see for yourself.)  I had to do a google search to find an internal page!  Very user-friendly.  Needless to say, once I finally got into their site, I had more to say to them than just how hard their bottle tops are to get off.  If you'd like to email them and let them know what idiots they are, click here.  I'm still waiting to hear back from them.

I paid my phone bill last night, and I realized, wow!  I pay for a lot of shit that I've never even used!  In fact, come to think of it, I'm not even sure how to use some of the services I had.  (Considering most of my phone calls are from survey groups and wrong numbers, learning how to work "call forwarding" seems like an exhausting endeavor.)  At some point, this "Custom Choice" package must have sounded like a good idea.  So I called the phone company this morning.  Got rid of all of it.  I kept my caller ID and that's it.  The guy at the phone company seemed to take it very personally, too.  He kept trying to talk me into other services that I didn't already have: "You're getting rid of call waiting, so you'll need voice mail so that everyone can leave a message if you're on the phone."  He didn't seem to get that I will never have business so urgent that someone can't just wait 10 minutes and call back.  I'm glad I finally came to my senses.  So if you're one of the 3 people I actually like to talk to on the phone, and you get a busy signal, you know why.

For a really interesting read sometime, try The Intern Blues, by Robert Marion, MD.  It's a non-fiction "bookumentary" about 3 pediatric interns in the mid-eighties.  Dr. Marion was their faculty advisor, and got the idea to have these three budding doctors keep an audio diary of their first year in medicine.  It's really amazing to read about what an intern has to go through -- on-call nights, handling emergencies with no practical training, no support system...  It really makes you think twice about a doctor's competency.  It was definitely an eye-opener.

I don't think I have the energy to rant about any pressing social issues today.  I'm too tired from my venture back into the working world.  Despite the fact that I was only off for 3 days, and despite the fact that I'm really anal-retentive about making sure someone will be taking care of all my duties while I'm gone, my inbox was full-to-overflowing when I got there.  It was nice to know that people missed me, though.  The people in my department got me one of those Create-A-Cards (I didn't know those still existed) that was very cute.  The front said something like, "I know someone who's in worse shape than you are."  Then inside, "At lunch, the waitress said she had stewed kidneys."  Very corny, but still cute.

I did spend part of the day fighting with the urology department at the hospital, although it wasn't quite what I expected.  I had to leave the nurse a message, since, after 3 phone calls, no one would pick up the phone.  I explained that I was almost out of pills and still having pain.  She called me back after about 3 hours and told me that the doctor wrote me a prescription for Percocet.  She paused, at which point I interrupted her, wondering why he would write a prescription for a schedule two drug (which can't be called in to a local pharmacy) when I don't live at all close to the hospital.  She told me she would try to get me something else and would call me back.  I never did hear from her, and then the pharmacy closed.  Hopefully this gets resolved first thing tomorrow.  I'm completely out now, and by the time I got home from work tonight I was ready to cry.

Aside from the dose of painkillers awaiting me at home, there was one other thing that totally brightened my evening.  I had a box stuck between my doors, and aside from the fact that it was very aromatic, I had no idea what it could be.  Turn out, Bri sent me this amazing 5-wick candle with these rocks sunk down into the wax.  It's got a zen theme.  It smells fantastic -- I won't even need to light it.  I can smell it from the other room.  I've always loved getting presents and this one is way cool.  I've never been the type of person to have a lot of friends, but I'd never trade the ones I've got. 

For tonight's "book of the day," I'm going to recommend Sellevision, by Augusten Burroughs.  It's a quick read (I finished it in about 2 days) and it's something a little lighter (perfect for days like the one I've just had).  It's a hilarious book about a retail broadcasting network (think Home Shopping Network) and the people that work for it.  They all have their own little problems and secrets (including one host that inadvertantly exposes himself on-air and another who's being stalked), which they have to scramble to cover up in time to go on air.  Burroughs is a bestselling gay writer with a darkly funny sense of humor that really can't be compared.  I've just recently been introduced to his work, but I can now say I'm a big fan.

I have to wonder about the literacy situation in this country of ours.  I've always loved to read.  My mom started teaching me to read when I was about 3 years old, and I remember absolutely loving the book clubs in elementary school (where you got a little newsprint flyer and could buy age-appropriate books).  I'd get my parents to buy me about 5 books every time, and I'd finish them all in about 2 days.  And remember Reading Rainbow on TV?  I'd go to the library and read pretty much every book they talked about on that show.  Now that I'm thinking about it, I even remember that my parents, as a punishment, would take away reading priveledges since that's what was most effective.  Wow, I guess I never realized what a little dork I was!

But that brings me to my point.  Why is it that these kids today (and now I sound like an old codger) don't like to read?  They park themselves in front of the TV, or play video games, or fool around online, but nobody reads!  And there are so many adults that aren't helping the situation.  A few years ago, when Harry Potter books really started to take off, I read a letter to the editor in our local paper from a citizen who was outraged that a book like Harry Potter could get published.  She stated, basically, that it promoted witchcraft and satanism and was the source of juvenile delinquency.  Now, I've read the Harry Potter books (I read everything).  They're about a little boy who waves a magic wand and flies around on a broomstick.  Religion is not discussed.  If nothing else, he embodies many traits I would think we should find attractive in a person (honesty, heroism, etc.).  But do you know what really got to me?  Finally -- finally -- there is a series of books out there that young people are clamoring to read.  And what happens?  A bunch of conservative idiots try to ban it.

I think one of the reasons this irritates me so much is that now that I'm out in "the real world," I still see a whole lot of people who are not able to effectively communicate.  One of my duties at work is to proof written communications that leave our department.  But, instead of just catching the occasional typo, I consistantly find myself rewriting letters completely because no one has made it a point to learn grammar and sentence structure.  It would be easy to say that writing skills should be a prerequisite of employment, but let's be serious.  We'd eliminate just about everyone!  My point (and I do have one), is that although it would be nice to think that I'm just smarter than everyone else, realistically, I think I got many of my writing skills from reading so much.

About 2-1/2 years ago I lost my job and was out of work for several months.  During that time, I cut down on a lot of unnecessary expenses, including cable.  Now, where I live, if you don't have cable (or a satellite dish), you don't have TV.  Even though I'm a little more financially solvent right now, I never got my cable turned back on.  I found that I don't miss it.  If I have free time, I just pick up a book.

One thing I think I'm going to do with this blog now that I've started it is to do a mini-book review with every post.  That way, those reading it can maybe get some good ideas for good books to read.  For starters, I'd like to recommend Skinny Legs and All, by Tom Robbins.  Tom Robbins is one of my favorite authors, and this is probably my favorite of his books.  It's kind of a bizarre story, and it makes you think, but it's hilariously funny and brilliantly written.  It's got everything: religion, sex, world war three, and a talking can of baked beans.  I highly recommend it, especially for those that are in the mood for something a little different.

Well, now that I'm off my soap box (for today, anyway), I can concentrate on going back to work tomorrow.  I thought I'd be looking forward to it, but I'm really not.  For one thing, I'm still bleeding.  And, yes, it's coming out of there.  For another, the urologist didn't give me enough pain pills, and I'm almost out.  I guess I'll be calling the clinic tomorrow to fight for more, which always makes me feel like some sort of junkie.  Hopefully this won't turn into too much of an argument.  Well, until next time...

So how come everything I do has to become such a huge production?  I took my cat to the vet yesterday.  I made the appointment knowing that it was unlikely I was going to have another day off for a while, and I figured I would be feeling much better after the surgery.  Well, as you can see from yesterday's post, I wasn't, but I decided to keep my appointment since he did need to go and I did really need to leave the house.

Taking the cat anywhere is not fun.  He does not like to ride in the car.  So we get there, I get him somewhat calmed down, and what happens?  A St. Bernard comes barrelling through the doors.  This dog was bigger than me.  If I wasn't so exasperated, watching a 19 pound cat try to burrow under the blanket in his carrier would probably have been funny.

We get in to see the vet, who, except for the wedding ring, would have been very smoochable.  (What is it lately about hot, unattainable medical personnel?)  The exam goes fine, the cat gets his shots, I don't get a lecture for not brining him in for so long, and I figure I'm set.  Then the vet tells me my cat has gum disease and needs his teeth cleaned.  I nodded like I knew what he was talking about.  When I got the cat home, I read the information packet that they gave me.  It involves taking the cat in for the entire day and anesthetizing him so they can scale his teeth.  Then I saw the cost.  I almost had a stroke.  They want $180.00.  Naturally, before I left, they explained all of the problems that can arise if I don't have this done, so now I feel obligated.  $180!!  I wonder if they finance...

And to make my whole day complete, the cat still hasn't forgiven me for yesterday's excursion.  He's hiding in the closet.

And so it begins.

I decided to start this e-journal on a whim -- mostly because I've been sitting around the house for the last 3 days.  I've read 6 books, watched 2 movies, called everyone I know (some of them twice), crocheted 5 more inches of the blanket I'm giving my Grandma for Christmas, and I've run out of things to do.  Besides, the idea of ranting to a captive audience has its appeal.

Wednesday I had a lithotripsy to remove 7 kidney stones in my right kidney.  I have to say, the procedure went well.  Mike took me down to LaCrosse for the surgery, and with the exception of the anesthesiologist, everyone was very nice to me.  It went quickly.  The CRNA was especially hot (too bad I wasn't looking my best).  And I'm glad to get rid of the stones -- they hurt like hell.  Now, however, the last three days have felt like I'm walking around with hot coals inside of me.  I also have to lay upside down (with my kidney above my heart) for two hours every day after guzzling a liter of water to help promote drainage.  I almost want to go back to work.

Well, hopefully tomorrow I'll have some sort of brilliant social commentary to post.  Right now, I have to pee.  Again.