Jesus is Dead

No, not the be-sandalled prophet of 2000 years ago, the Touchdown Jesus of I-75 in Ohio, just north of Cincinnati.  Also known as King of Kings, Butter Jesus, Swamp Jesus and other names (he of many names, remember?).  One really can't make up this sort of hilarity, really.

The response has been varied, to say the least.  Everything from peals of laughter to cries that the end times are a'coming.  Bob and Tom even had someone write and sing a song for the occasion. 

Personally, I'm a bit saddened.  Not because of the loss of great art or anything of the sort, just because it's such an icon around my home.  Everyone knows it, even if they don't care one whit about the religion behind it.  It's a piece of shared history and culture, like a favored but bad hometown restaurant. 

At the same time that I feel loss at this natural disaster (or act of god, however you prefer to see it), I feel a bigger loss at the idea that it will be rebuilt.  This thing made of styrofoam and fiberglass was almost universally recognized as an oddity.  It was an oddity that, according to insurance replacement estimates, cost $300,000 to build.  Especially during this time of serious economic hardship, couldn't that 300K be spent on something more, well, Christian?  Food for the poor?  Help with daycare?  Homeless shelters?  Medical care for the uninsured?  Really, anything? 

Instead, the creators of Touchdown Jesus have decided that it's better to spend money building false idols than to actually help people that need it.  Nice.  Good work, once again, followers of the Nazarene.  Proselytizing and converting heathens really is just that important to you, eh?  More important than following those crazy commandment things or the golden rule, huh?  Here, let me help give you a pat on the back.  With a cat o'nine tails.

My week thus far

Yep, that's about how I feel, pulled in a bunch of directions, all at once.  Do I feel elated for my younger-older brother in law's marriage, or do I feel horribly upset about the separation of a couple that have been closer to me at times than much of my own family?  Do I feel so stressed out that I may puke with all the writing stuff with deadlines this week, or do I feel ecstatic that there may be an end in sight?  Do I feel horribly anguished for the couple that now has a child with a disability, or do I feel blessed to have been a part of their becoming a family?  Do I feel stupendously proud of my little boy, who will most likely be starting kindergarten next fall, or like a failure because I'm so relieved to have less time with him after a week of spring break that left us both in tears?  The answer is a resounding YES! to all of the above.  Gah.  It's the start of my annual dying-time, and this year is not looking like it will be a smooth one.  It's been 15 years now, why does the saga seem to hit replay whenever I can handle it least?  June fourth can't come soon enough right now.  At least Black Out Stout is in season, although I may need some Absente soon if the emotional roller coaster continues to be this severe.

Long Winter's Nap

Or, in the case of Ken, no winter's nap.  Tomorrow he starts back to pre-school.  Finally.  You are reading the words of a *very* happy mama.

I love the boy, really I do, but he has my ability to sleep and Dwight's need for sleep.  That translates into a very sleepy little boy that won't admit what he is.  Have I talked about this before?  It's on ongoing theme in our household, so I apologize if it's a re-run here.  Anyway, his last day of pre-school before the holidays was December 19th.  To my knowledge, his last nap was on December 19th.  Can you say "terror"?  It'll be good to get back into some semblance of a routine.

Physiologically, organisms need to rest, whether they're a four year old Homo sapien or a perennial grass.  For most things, there's a period of dormancy, slowed growth, lower metabolic activity, etc.  Usually it's associated with the cold or dry season, depending on its native range and climate.  Psychologically, humans need regular rest/relaxation/sleep.  As a biologist with an extraneous psychology degree and a mama, I know all this.  But knowing something doesn't necessarily translate well into following that same knowledge.  No one ever said humans were rational.  Given the standard 24-hour day, I can manage to fill said day with 30 hours worth of things that I need/want to do.  And then wonder why I don't get it all done.  Oops. 

Part of me likes it like this.  I enjoy being busy.  Life's too short to waste time doing nothing.  I'm able to stay active in my community even with my regular obligations.  My life is filled with interesting moments and tasks.  But every so often, it gets a bit too busy, even for me.  I'm sure you've done this too, I'm pretty sure it's a common thread among western society.  When those moments come along, it's really hard to slow down for a couple of reasons.  One, the inertia of life just keeps pulling me along.  I'm used to a certain activity level, and slower than that seems boring.  Two, all those obligations make it logistically difficult to slack off.  People are expecting me to get done what I've said I'd do, and I don't like to let them down.  It's a dance between staying busy and active, and still having time to rest.  A dance that in my nearly 29 years I have yet to master.  And probably won't any time soon.

Because the fact of the matter is, my dad had a lot of the same tendencies, and he died at the age of 42.  The rational thing to do would be to try and avoid some of his more destructive habits, as they may have contributed to his early demise.  But the irrational and human thing to do (or at least what I've found myself doing) is not to learn how to avoid early death but to to live as though it's a certainty and still try to get in a full life's work before that happens.  We all have our quirks, right?

On a lighter note- I need ideas for a birthday cake.  What can you suggest?

Bugs and Germs

Germs really bug me. I have to say it. Not themselves, mind you, but more people's reactions to germs. Like this year, with the H1N1 scare on top of the usual seasonal bug issues. Germophobia is running rampant, and it's getting out of control.

According to the CDC, as of November 14th 2009 there were between 7,070 and 13,930 deaths from H1N1 in the 7 months since it started showing up. Nothing to sneeze at, granted, but in a similar time frame over 70,000 deaths due to a stroke occur (from the CDC also). My point is, there are bigger issues to be worried about than novel H1N1.

And yet, it's become a perfectly good reason to act rude and treat humans as walking germs. This week especially, I've had the wonderful experience of having some customer service person see me waiting, look me in the eye, stop, incessantly slather their hands in Purell, and then finally address me. Because, yes, I am obviously a walking, talking, culture of H1N1 or some other bug du jour. Thanks. There's cleanliness and hygiene, but for freaking sake there's also courtesy. I am not sneezing. I am not coughing. I do not have oozing pustules. My eyes are not watering, red, puffy, blood-shot or anything out of the ordinary. I even bathed today. So can everyone please stop acting like they're going to die if they touch anything I've had in contact with me.

I think we have to fear this current fanaticism of physical seclusion far more than any influenza.

Oh, and a belated blessed Solstice! May the new solar year bring many great things!

Past Few Weeks' Absence

The last few weeks have kept me busy and away from blogs, both as a writer and a reader. I've said my apologies for that. Now I owe you an explanation, and I owe myself a moment to reflect.

Professionally, I've been busy with school- grading papers, readying for exams, counseling students and helping them study, not to mention trying to ready my own research for the winter. That means animal care and use proposals, grant proposals, collecting the last of the samples for the year, setting up a behavior room, ordering supplies and finishing my prospectus. I had thought I was done with my prospectus. PROSPECTUS! not dissertation. Just saying what I want to do. Don't get excited, I've still got a year or two before I graduate. Then my advisor decided that I need to rearrange the whole thing. Fun.

In my outreach, I've been busy with some new endeavors, and truly those are what have kept me going, although they have been a source of stress as well. I birthed my first creative publications in a long time- Ken's school newsletter and my departmental calendar. They turned out OK, but not great. I also began serving on the Portage County Solid Waste District Advisory Board. That was a large source of stress. We're looking at possibilities for the future of the SWD, and no one's happy about it. The public meeting was essentially a lynching by the neighbors, with their questions for which we have no answers. It's too early in the process to have the answers they want, and they don't get it. I understand people are afraid of change, but wait until we have some clue of what the possible change is before damning those involved, will you? Yeesh.

Personally, it's been a trying time as well. A friend lost her young child, another became a very young grandmother, another lost her husband, my aunt lost her partner of many years, another friend's grandparents suffered a horrible tragedy, and a one-time lover long-time friend lost his life. Much sorrow is in the air, yet I'm not sure if I'm in the eye of the storm or watching from afar. And Dan, our room mate, adds his share of stress as well. I know I can't solve everything. I know I can't save the world. But I want to try, daggummit. I'm scared by all the death in part because it causes pain to those I love, but in part because it scares me. I'm scared because my father in law will eventually put me in a similar situation. He won't take care of himself, despite multiple chronic health conditions ranging from obesity to diabetes to long term depression. He won't live within his means, so that he frequently goes on and off medication because he's out of money for a month. He won't admit he needs help, and he's technically mentally competent- just makes terrible decisions. His house keeping is atrocious, his apartment manager had to put a Febreeze-sprayer-thingy right beside his door because of the smell. I might need one of those heading upstairs, if I weren't sensitive to perfumes. I love my father in law, really I do, but I'm not looking forward to the time when I have to deal with his death and funeral arrangements, or his long term care situation. But I know that day is coming, sooner or later, and I know it'll be Dwight and I to sort that mess out when it comes.

So how have you been?

Missing- One Blogger

I have to first off apologize for being MIA for a while. It's been crazy busy here on Rancho Insano. Mostly family demanding time that I don't have and my desire to meld both artistic and academic endeavors. Oh, and the Invasive Species Conference at UConn. Oi. Vey. Add in an exciting new friendship that is blossoming, gardens that need tending, house that needs cleaning, and projects that need completing, mix well, bake for 45 minutes at 350 degrees Fahrenheit, and voila! One frazzled me. Cool, slice, and enjoy. Best with Pinot Gris and French Vanilla frozen custard.

Kidding. Please don't eat me.

I just need to figure out how to clone myself and I'll have plenty of time. Or learn to say no. Either one. Really, it's OK, don't send out the men in white coats just yet. I've also been suffering some horrible insomnia, so that adds considerable time to the day in which to get s*&% done. School is still a while off, so I have time to keep cranking stuff out before the term starts. I love the pressure. Thrive off of it.

And (spoiler alert)- how in the h&#@ is Captain Jack a Dad?! And a Granddad?! He's easily the hottest bisexual grandpa ever. Love BBC.

I'll be back to more regular blogging shortly, and I promise to be in full swing for ICLW in a few days. How is it that time already? Any ideas for a new intro this month? What are other people doing?

Thoughts on shrinkage

More on health care reform, so if you don't want to hear it- this is your warning.

Right now, there's a lot of talk about rationing of health care. Not in any positive way, more as a threat. "If the government gets involved with health care, they'll ration it!" And I have to wonder about this. What does it mean to ration health care? The talk I hear from so many of the proclaimers that the government will ration seems to revolve around long waits, and some procedures being denied to people. They cite Canadians coming to the US for cosmetic surgery as a result of rationing in Canada.

But what about the insurance company that denies a claim to an insured person? Isn't that rationing, just after the fact? Only now, the person has had the medical procedure, and owes the bills, that they had been expecting to be paid. What about insurance companies refusing to cover individuals due to pre-existing conditions? Isn't that rationing of insurance? And doctors that won't take Medicare or Medicaid patients?

Wake up, people, we already have rationing of health care. I highly doubt a public option or single payer plan could ration medical procedures much more. As for long wait times for cosmetic surgery or elective procedures- why not? Shouldn't resources first be put into necessary treatments, before electives? Should any procedure be available to any person just because they want it and have the money for it?

Gah. This world is up side down some times.

Sharing

Lately, for some reason, I've been thinking a lot about sharing. It may be because I have a three and a half year old, it might be because of the economy, it might just be my brain stuck on one song. Whatever.

Our society has possibly the oddest relationship with sharing that I've ever seen. It's a trait we teach our children (or at least try) from a very young age. It's something that we stress over- kids sharing toys, playing nice, being fair, not leaving others out.

And then we hit adulthood. And it's totally OK to be anti-sharing. It's normal to be opposed to many forms of redistribution of wealth. We don't expect everyone to have a slice of the pie. We praise those who can get (or take, depending on your perspective) a huge portion of the wealth. We see no moral qualm with the disfranchisement of millions from our health care system, safe housing, adequate nutrition, and decent schooling.

What happened to sharing? When did the emphasis become "me" not "us"? Or the definition of "us" become so contracted? Does no one now believe that a society is judged by how it treats the least among them? Do we teach by example only when it serves us?

Maybe we all need to step back, take our hand out of the cookie jar, and make sure everyone has at least one treat before going back for seconds. We've created a mess with our greed, self-indulgence, and desire to get something for nothing. Why don't we make sure that every one has a few basic "somethings" before adding to our growing mass of stuff? Can we do that? Can we share?

Oh, yeah, if you hadn't noticed- socialist is a fair label for me, and possibly a bit generous.

Yammering

It hasn't stopped all night. Since the moment I picked Ken up from daycare, probably until he falls asleep tonight. He hasn't shut up. And from what Ms. Pam his teacher said, it was like that all day too. To add to the fun, almost none of it makes sense.

"Kenny spiiiiiiiiiiiiiiders. Kenny spiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiders. Kenny spiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiders."

Is followed by

"Cars and trucks and trucks and cars and cars and trucks and trucks and cars AND AIRPLANES!!!!"

Turns into

"Now it's dark outside. Now it's light outside. Now it's dark outside. Now it's dark outside."

Becomes

"E-N-N-Y for Kenny. E-N-N-Y for Kenny. E-N-N-Y for Kenny. There's my letters!" as he points to random words on a page.

This is the sound of loosing your mind. Or the sound of parenthood. They might be the same thing. I'm getting more thoroughly convinced that they are.

And for a picture of the day-

Kenny and his friend Nikko, the way Kenny used to enjoy being carried. Nikko is Kenny's little teeny tiny baby friend. He was a gift from Grandma Sue for his birthday. Nikko may be little, but he's responsible for big things. He's made from organic cotton and wool, fairly made by indigenous women in Peru, and fairly traded by Nova Naturals in the US. Proof that good things come in small packages. Like Ken. Because as much as I might kivetch about him, I can't imagine my world without him. He's made me a better person, and encourages me to make the world a better place. Even if he's slowly (quickly?) driving me batty. I like batty. Life is more fun this way.
Where on Earth did the little ush in this picture go and when did my baby get so big???