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Election Results In


Obama in a landslide!

Twenty-eight ballots were cast in the 8 YO Boy’s classroom. We voted on three candidate races and three propositions. Here are the results*:

  • Presidential Electors: Obama – 23, McCain – 2, Barr – 1, and no vote recorded – 2
  • Prop 105: No – 18, Yes – 8, and no vote recorded – 2
  • Prop 300: Yes – 15, No – 12, and no vote recorded – 1
  • Prop 403: No – 15, Yes – 10, and no vote recorded – 3

We had no reports of voter fraud or intimidation at the polling place. Voter turnout was high with only one absence among Ms. P’s “Big Wigs”. To background these results, a sizeable number of children from this class went trick-or-treating together. It was their experience that upon arriving at a house with an Obama sign, they were greated with laughter and “good” candy. Four houses later they came upon a house with a McCain sign out front. The lights were on, but no one was home. A basket on the porch had two solitary (not packages but individual) LifeSavers in it. This isn’t typical for all of Tucson as reports from the foothills residents on the 8 YO Boy’s soccer team indicate that the trick-or-treaters supporting Obama were asked to redistribute their candy – an idea on which they weren’t too keen.

I had a great deal of anxiety about real-world voting. I don’t do well with parking lots, people, waiting. I heard all these frightening stories about bringing the correct identification and wearing the appropriate clothing. I’ve had bad luck in the past with being turned away from the polls (never successfully) and I am tired of the fight. I just want to vote. Please? Can’t a sister vote without turmoil? Isn’t this why so many women have rocked the vote since 1920?

So I put on my big-girl panties and went to my local precinct polling place. I walked right in, stepped right up. I was the first in line and I threw down THREE different pieces of identification. Hither thither and yon for signing in, slips of paper that trade in for actual ballots, and a nosy black box operator later, I was finished. My number was 168 (I think) at 11 a.m. No need for all the fear and loathing.

I voted for my presidential electors and at least 10 Democrats, 4 Republicans, and 1 Green candidate plus some others who aren’t identified by party for local governing boards. I chose to retain or not retain 21 judges and I voted NO on 7 propositions and YES on two. I have no clue if I made good choices, but they were at least partially informed ones.

Tonight the fam, which includes Todd-o, will be eating hot dogs with yellow mustard and watching the returns. We are going to party like the Sooners won the National Title! I mean, we are going to honor what a freaking awesome country this is where we get a say in the political process regardless of whether or not everyone goes against my better judgement to select boneheads for offices and can’t figure out a proposition from a wide stance.

If you haven’t already, please go VOTE!

* Corporation Commissioner and TUSD Governing Board results were not tallied. The expectation is that the children will take their ballots and electoral maps home and follow the returns.

Halloween Snapshot

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Okay, I wanted to blog all this stuff about Halloween, but I neglected to attend to one of the more important tenants of publishing – deadlines. Of course for a blog, I don’t have to plan as far ahead as traditional publishing, but perhaps some of this would have been more interesting/useful BEFORE Halloween. It’s highly unlikely that my three readers would take a look at this today. In any event and without further ado, here are my Halloween snapshots.

First, we picked pumpkins. This was a time for funny faces and produce bigger than my baby. In AZ, we sell our pumpkins alongside dried chilies.

On to the massacre. The Weisers continue to invite us to Pumpkinpalooza in spite of the fact that we ALWAYS come. Robyn is a great pal who shows us a good time and feeds us well. Chili – YUM! I took a photo of my dinner. This year, I let the ankle biters carve their own designs with actual knives. No trips to the ER. Phew!


The 8 YO boy carved a bat in flight and the 6 YO girl carved a kitten cat. I scored a surplus pumpkin for free because someone dropped it. I carved snakes coming out of the resultant crack, which I had enlarged. We coated our pumpkins with Vaseline so that they would keep. We didn’t do such a great job this year and that, partnered with the heat, saw two of our pumpkins turn gross-out mushy.

I painted the girl’s fingernails orange, but it didn’t last. Then we roasted our pumpkin seeds. We washed the 3 or so cups of seeds, boiled them for 10 minutes in 14 cups of water and 14 tablespoons of salt, then coated them in olive oil and roasted them at 400 degrees for 20 minutes. YUM! Better than I thought, though I’m not the sort who cares for the outer shell.

Finally, we are looking forward to Dia de los Muertos. The kids made sugar skulls at one of the school’s fundraisers. Cute huh? These were made sans glue, so they are entirely edible.

Anna and I have been talking about how fun and inspiring Dia de los Muertos is in comparison to the more somber Memorial Day. They each have their place. Grace St. Paul’s Episcopal Church is celebrating the Feast of All Saints on November 1st and the Commemoration of the Faithful Departed (All Souls’ Day) on November 2nd. I’m looking forward to bringing photos of my loved ones who’ve passed on to the services.

Check out posts from last year. Here, Here, Here, and Here.

We’ve Been BOOed!

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The hubster and I endeavored to teach our kids the time-honored tradition of ding-dong ditch. We called it something else when I was a kid and though it was alliterate, it wasn’t very nice. Pranking isn’t part of the value system we normally teach our children, but with Halloween coming and all we were happy for the chance provided by some goblins at my daughter’s school – the happiest place on earth with all due respect to Disneyland. We were BOOed, you see. It’s a cool tradition even if it does smack reminiscent of chain letters.

The other night as we fought over homework, there was a frantic knock on the door, but no one visible through the peephole. JEEPERS! A mystery! Upon opening the door, we saw a sack full of candy and a note that read, “You’ve been BOOed! Blah blah blah. You have to BOO two other families.” As we read the note, there was another knock. The thing is you are supposed to put a note on your door stating that you’ve been BOOed to prevent spam BOOings, but you can’t do that if you are still in the act of reading the directions. More intrigue! Upon opening the door that second time, we had a pumpkin full of Tom’s children’s toothpaste and toothbrushes, among other stuff. How cool! Why, oh why can’t we be BOOed all the time? Oh, yeah, the chain part.

The kids and I went shopping for spooky gifts to pass on. We made sweet little bundles and set out with the master of delinquency, their father. Heh heh. First house, darn! Door’s open and barking dog spies the kids through the screen door. The 6 YO girl shouts her brother’s non-standard name. RUN! The door answerer squinted through the dark as the kids ran to our vehicle.

On to door number 2. The kids are fighting about whether or not the gifts are placed close enough to the door and when the bell should be rung. DING DONG DOH! The door answerer through the bushes spied the 8 YO boy attempting conversation outside the driver side door to his father who urged, “Get in the car! Get in the car!” Fortunately, by house 3, we had the procedure down.

Ding-dong ditch, easy peasy lemon squeazy heavily laced with adrenaline.

Ballengers Biking

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Now and again, between soccer practices and music lessons, we’ll take to the streets to revel in the freedom of two wheels and no particular place to go.

(Production Note: 1) Grrr! I tried saving this in a zillion formats. Quicktime was the only one that actually displayed the movie. 2) I had an aged film effect going, but what were static-y, scratched images at first became simple, elegant black screens. No cute hubster and children biking. My intent in attempting aged film was to pretend that this ride was filmed long ago – before little girls on their bikes were made to wear helmets. Clearly, I need more experience with the iMovies. And I need to remember helmets for BOTH the kids.)

Democraps and Repooplicans

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“Mom, have you ever heard of a Repooplican?”

“No. But that’s pretty funny. Where did you hear that?”

“Oh, I was thinking about how ‘Democrat’ sounded like ‘Democrap’ and then it just came to me.”

You gotta give it to my 8 YO boy, “Democrap” and “Repooplican” are clever AND descriptive.

I wish I had a nickname like “Barracuda” – you know, not the “swallow whole” metaphor way, but more like the “holy shit, watch out for her” sort of way. Barracuda is the first song on the third CD of that mixed tape* Max made me. When I’m rollin’ in the MV that base hits and I’m all “hell yeah, Molms!” I’ve been pissed at the Democraps for 7+ years now. WTF have they been thinking? doing? They must have Repooplican for brains.

I’ve not been successful at channeling my inner Repooplican. The woman doesn’t get me. Her rocking awesome nickname doesn’t get me. Heart protests the very use of their song for Repooplican Governor Barracuda! Sorry, Maverick. You lost me at Palin. Besides, I’m ready for the retro stylings of cheques and balances.

Lest you think all my word joy comes from the boy, the hubster explained the economic situation we are having now as compared to the great depression to the 6 YO girl. She thought on it a while, re-entered the room and clarified, “But we’re happy now, right?”

FIN

* Haven’t I mentioned enough the mixed tapes I have received from Max and Anna enough? Do you get the picture. First, the hubster stole my iPod and second, I like mixed tapes and I cannot lie!

Bloggy Style

Your Blogging Type Is Clever and Witty

Of all blogging types, you’re the best with words.

Almost every blog post you write has legendary quality.

You have a perverse sense of humor and often play devil’s advocate.

Impatient and picky, you tend to go off on funny rants from time to time.

Aren’t these Cosmo-style quizzes meant to stroke blogger egos? I mean, as though the blog wasn’t about ego from the get-go. This four-question quiz supplies only two answers per question, neither of which fully apply to my style, if indeed I had one. Since I started this blog, I’ve actually put some thought into what I hope to accomplish. What is my niche? I can honestly say that I have none. Although, the characteristics in my blogger type quiz result may be fitting descriptors of some of my old MS blogs, which are safely tucked away from the multitudes who would wish to do me harm. Yes, I’m talking to you. No, not you. You.

Point is, I’d like to see a result that reads, “Your blogger type is boring and sophomoric.” Perhaps, “Your blogger type is mushy and pointless.” I would also appreciate the honest, “Your blogger type is arrogant and self-indulgent.” My blogger type quiz result is a little more than a load of crap. But, honestly, aren’t I just the tiniest bit witty and clever? or was it clever and witty?

Oh, and since I’m feeling all quizzey. I took the what would Sarah Palin name you quiz and apparently Mommy Palin hates her little Puck Mule. Thanks to Rocks who directed me to that one some weeks back.

Now the truthy blog, I don’t think the hubster likes to be mentioned in my blogs. Even so, I’m thinking quite fondly of him since he’s the morning parent. He’s also running off some paperwork I need so I can sit on my behiney, drinking spicey creamed tea, on a slightly chilled evening while inflating my ego.

Cool Buddies Doing Cool Things

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Populist Pugilist just started a poetry blog. He promises an entry a week with his first being a partial glimpse at a collection titled Grace Poems. Here’s what he has to say about it:

Grace Poems is a cycle of individual pieces unified by the character of Grace. Hopefully each poem can stand on its own, but they also hopefully all compliment one another and form a whole greater than the sum.

Grace herself is partly inspired by certain real people and is my tribute to them and to what (in my mind) they stand for. I also model Grace on poetic figures that may be a bit obvious (Dante’s Beatrice and Yeats’s Cathleen, Crazy Jane, etc.). My intent was to create in Grace a symbol of ideas, values, beliefs, emotions and myths. But I also wanted to give Grace a certain reality and personality.

I’m not saying that these poems have anything to do with me, but let’s face it, I’m nothing if not graceful. Irregardlessivity, this is my blog where everything is about me and therefore I’m telling you I am “certain real people” and also the woman Dante had in mind for Beatrice. What? We were close. Ask Shirley McClain.

Populist knows I am not smart enough for poetry. I hate that because I don’t wish to lend my idiocy to the built-in snobbery of the literary world where novels are marginalized for spelling things out for the women who read them. I do offer my mother and mother-in-law (Yeats is one of her faves) as women who can appreciate and interpret poetry. For my part, I will continue to presume I’m Grace. In fact, I will presume all Populist’s good poetry is about me and all the bad poetry is about my antagonists because they are the way most evil.

Guess what else is also about me? Tracy’s cool new stuff. She’s shared with me her current inspiration. Anyone would be privileged to own one of her fans. Perhaps she won’t hate me forever if I let you in on her current work. I’m very excited about it.

Don’t you just ADORE that pop of teal (blue, turquoise – as with poetry, so am I with color). These here feathers are causing Tracy quite some tortured artist feelings in terms of involuntary bodily tingles, urges, and so forth. I think she enjoys the physical symptoms of longing and waiting while mulling over the possibilities. On the other hand, so much of her is in her craft that she says, “I feel like I am putting children on the orphan train headed west every time I mail a fan off.”

Tracy is just good with words like that. Here’s what Tracy says about this photo, “These are the sticks I use to violate the quills for my fans.” Hee hee. Sometimes I’m overly in touch with my inner 8 YO boy. That may be another reason for my stunted poetic understandings and also why Tracy is the artist and I am the friend.

My cool buddies are doing cool things that the world views as “art” while I muddle away with shrinkey dinks and kids’ paint and this blog. I’ll update you when Tracy’s next fan comes up for sale (if she manages to convince herself to orphan another), but you should really sign up to follow Populist.

“I ate your chocolate.”

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I don’t think I believed that Jesse was going to abandon me until he called from the plane. I overhear the flight attendant say it’s time to buckle up for safety. I’ve just finished a lesson on voting and my mind can’t wrap around my husband’s leaving. “I ate your chocolate,” he says and then the phone goes dead. This is the last coffee scribbling I’ll get until his return and I’m feeling very sorry for myself.


How could he do this to me? I’m sick! I have children! My computer buddy is coming to save my behiney at work by fixing the website and database and I have to have a clear head for that. The house is a mess. Most of all, I’m completely emotionally fragile – like that cracked old rib bone in the photo. I need Jesse to glue me back together. (In case you are some freak who doesn’t know me and think this is your opportunity to come visit while the hubster is away, think again. He left his gun in my care. BANG! BANG! “I like you America.” Get it?) And the worst part, the darkest chasm, the void he left can’t even be filled with chocolate. The horror!

See the lovely little thank you note from Mz. Molly for helping with the Borton Community Garden’s chicken coop? Some people may question my contribution, and Mz. Molly may have regretted my contribution, but I got the punk rock pink and black ribbon anyway. A la la la.

And lastly, on a wholly unrelated note, Max, who should totally start a blog of his poetry but doesn’t just to hurt my feelings, was sighted at the intersection of Speedway and Alvernon. George would like to know when he started wearing glasses. And Max, thanks again for the three volume “mixed tape” CD collection of 80’s “alternative” music. It’s come in handy over the years.

Freezer Paper Cooks!

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I’ve been thinking forever and a day that I wanted to try to do some freezer paper rescue for all those coffee stained t-shirts I have laying around the house. I’m too lazy to remove the stains and I’m too cheap to ditch the shirts. Maybe I’ll dye them, or tie dye them, or cut them up and make new shirts, or, whatever. Let’s face it. They are just as likely to clutter up my world as be transformed. That doesn’t even take into account that it would take less time to attack the shirts with a bleach pen as it would to do the amazing work I’m about to share with you.

Wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles. I did freezer paper stencil paint two whole shirts. It’s not like the idea about freezer paper just fell into my lap. Nay. I read about it. Obviously. PANJO! Isn’t that an awesome word? PANJO! My stencils don’t hold a candle to Panjo. Seriously, you should check, check, check, check her out.

Briefly, here’s the low down.

Step 1. Cut your freezer paper (old school butcher paper available wherever plastic and aluminum wrap is sold) to 8.5 x11 inches (standard paper size) and run your design off your printer from the beautiful clip art you’ve poached from someone else. My letters and numbers, I did manage to type myself and choose an accompanying font. Did I mention that you should print on the matte side? Consider yourself told. Graphic images are good. Or draw your design on the paper. I don’t care.

Step 2. Cut it out. AH! See now! See? I told you to pick a graphic image. Fewer cuts. Each of my letters were like freaking nesting dolls. I had to keep cutting and cutting and cutting. But I got it done. I kept all my cut paper from certain elements together so I could keep track. I know, very Virgo.

Step 3. I know I didn’t rotate the photo. Turn your monitor sideways if you have to. This is the part where you carefully place your stencil on your shirt and cook it up with your pathetic old iron. Of course, that’s the only sort of iron I have, but some people have good scissors and good irons and all that. If you are some people, then it’s probably a good idea to use your grody iron. Why? Well, there are tiny pieces and you need to make sure that you iron the shiny side to the shirt and not to the iron like I did part of my 8. Did I mention you get a better seal if you put freezer paper on the inside of the shirt too. Yeah, I didn’t do that on my Obama shirt, but I learned.

Step 4. I’m sure you are supposed to use some fancy fabric paint, but I just used acrylics. They were a green variety though. Some name brand. Find your own. I thought maybe I’d water them down like I did for the pillowcase. What a DUMB idea. Don’t do that. It will blur your Obam”a”. I also caught onto the tip to paint from paper to fabric instead of fabric to paper for crisper edges.

Step 5. Call in your ever willing assistant to make a sparkling purple (this time not environmentally friendly paint, but some passed on by GrammaN) “Grow your own” t-shirt for the fabulous Mz. Molly who has since been in the Green Times (which is only available in print – huh, what?) and Arizona Daily Star (check out the sidebar) and is about to be in TUSD Focus. I modified this stencil. The wheelbarrow had cinder blocks in it. I changed it to veggies.

Step 6. RIP OFF THAT FREEZER PAPER! Oh, how wonderful an experience it is. Until you see that you screwed up by not having freezer paper under the design and not having ironed the freezer paper on well enough and watering down your paint. My son said if I had eliminated one of these oversights, the shirt would have been more than 30% better.

My dazzling assistant proves his case as this shirt came out worthy of its intended.

And now a word about the “political” nature of this blog. I made the Obama shirt for my husband to wear around town after he retired from 20 years of service to his country. Not that it should matter. Every citizen gets a chance to select an electorate to represent him/her in the presidential elections. Every citizen except those in Puerto Rico, Guam, American Samoa, Virgin Islands, or Federated States of Micronesia (did I miss a territory?). Anyway, we reside in a state, so we get representation. That should be good enough. The point is, this is a blog about freezer paper not politics. IF you think you might like to be inspired by politics in crafting, might I perhaps suggest Crafting for Change.