I love having a good day.

Though I typically refrain from work-related posts, this time it just can't be helped. I'm LOVING my new job. I get to engage both my adminsitrative side and my creative impulses. So far this month I've gotten high marks on a little grant, helped with some other grant-related materials, developed and created a proposal to pitch to the City for an outreach program at community centers. This morning I even gotten attend the meeting where the proposal was being made by several Board members and my boss to the Mayor and City Manager. FUN FUN FUN! I got to explain the program. It seems the whole group was as enthusiastic as I am. Last Friday I led an art activity for a group of journalists who were checking out arts in the area. That was a blast. Cocktails and creativity, though I didn't do the cocktail part. So, I feel happy and fulfilled at work. And that is a nice feeling.

Plus, I have awesome friends. Attended a rollicking good party Saturday. Tonight we're having dinner with the neighbors. Prep is underway for the second annual "Not Your Mother's Garage Sale" to be held later this month. I'm even happy working a second job. Anyway, I hope I can keep up with this awesome positive streak I've been having. I'll put my best energy out there in hopes that it will continue to come back to me that way. That's a little new-agey, but it seems to be working this March (typically one of my least inspired months of the year).

I love having a good day.

Election 2008: American Idol.

I'm sure by now it's unoriginal. Surely someone on this great, big Internet has disucssed how presidential politics so closely resemble a blown-out-of-proportion American Idol process. That makes it sound like I don't really care much for American Idol OR presidential politics. But that's wrong; indeed I love both.

At this point in the American Idol copmetition I don't really find myself all that attached to any one contestant. My strategy is just to find a couple of people I could basically live with. Then as I get to know and the season wears on, I pick a favorite and rally strong. Really, really, really strong.

The past couple of months were basically the season premiere for the 2008 election. More just like a pilot episode where shit is just fuckin' crazy. Boobie flashin', Internet-writers bashin', first season kind of stuff. If only I could catch the entire 2008 political season on my DVR and watch an episode of the Simpson (right now the School Band Competition episodes, perfect for a band geek like me) during the parts I don't really wanna see. Instead I'll have to be engaged in the political process.

Let's get it on then, candidates. Show me the stuff I want to see and dispense with the bullshit. I just want to fast-forward with five speedy arrows through the medicore crap. 'Election 2008 = American Idol High Stakes' for me from here on out. I bet this'll get interesting.

An opportunity I wish I had.

I wish I had the opportunity to slug the asshole who decided it's okay to service a water tower at 6 am. For two weeks (luckily I was out of town for one of them) large machines have been sounding like jet planes in my backyard at all hours of the day. No letter saying "sorry for the inconvenience" or anything like that. Just loud machines at all the Godforsaken time. I'm a morning person but this shit is ridiculous. No, it's fuckin' ridiculous. If I could I'd sew the guy to my floor rug right by the back door so s/he could feel my pain. Now that's an opportunity I wish I had. Instead I just called the police department to complain.

Just three words.

1. Where is your cell phone? On the table.
2. Boyfriend/girlfriend? He's my husband.
3. Hair? Crazy curly mess.
4. Your mother? I love her.
5. Your father? I love him.
6. Your favorite item(s)? Ring, car, house.
7. Your dream last night? Can't remember any.
8. Your favorite drink? Anything with friends.
9. Your dream guy/girl? In another room.
10. The room you are in? My fave hangout.
11. Your fear? Failing in general.
12. What do you want to be in 10 years? Happy, healthy, successful.
13. Who did you hang out with last night? Pete and dog.
14. What are you not? Rich, skinny, unhappy.
15. Are you in love? I sure am!
16. One of your wish list items? Winning the lottery
17. What time is it? Time to chill.
18. The last thing you did? Talked on phone.
19. What are you wearing? T-shirt, pants, Crocs.
20. Your favorite book? Can't choose one.
21. The last thing you ate? Kaluha milk shake.
22. Your life? Pretty damned good.
23. Your mood? I'm great today.
24. Your friends? All amazing people.
25. What are you thinking about right now? Tomorrow like today?
26. Your car? Covered in pollen.
27. What are you doing at this moment? Waiting for Pete
28. Your summer? Gonna be nuts.
29. Your relationship status? I'm happily married.
30. What is on your TV screen? It's turned off.
31. When is the last time you laughed? Just minutes ago.
32. Last time you cried? Leaving the airport.
33. School? Florida State University.

On life and death in a small town.

I traveled to Iowa this week for my Grandmother's funeral. Lest this post come off as irreverent, you should know I hold my Grandmother, and all of my family, in the highest esteem. Grandma Betty had been sick for several year with Alzheimer's. It had been mostly downhill since my wedding almost four years ago. When those you love are sick enough not to be able to swallow even pureed food or water or breathe, it's hard to know what to wish for. Well, celebrating my Grandma's long and vibrant life was amazing. It's hard to imagine life without her - I've never spent time in Marcus without here there - and her memory will live on. And in celebrating her life, her love for her family and her passions, I even got to indulge a few of my own.

I love the Midwest. Garrison Keillor seems to hit it right on the head, and I couldn't help but think of his idealized view of Midwesterners the whole week through. Life is so much easier there, you hop right off the plane, meet your brother in the terminal, get the rental car and head home. They're even nice to you at the Taco John's. And you can't get within a 35-mile radius of my population-1000 old hometown without seeing someone you know. And when you get there, people really, truly, genuinely want to know how you are. They have a vested interest - they've known your family from years and can recall the day you were born.

I shook hands without 300 people who came to the funeral home to express their sympathies. Each had special memories of my Grandmother and our family. Friends, family members, all together, all mourning and all remembering Grandma from better days. We set up pictures of her from the 1930s on - and people who could recall her from all those years. These are ordinary people, sharing imtimate and personal details often with a smile, and sometimes with a tear.

It was 30 degrees the morning of the funeral. My cheeks burned from the cold when I walked across town to the chuch to light a candle several hours before the 10:30 am service. The sun shone through the stained glass windows, and even though there were inches of snow on the ground (the most, in fact, in over 30 years) there was a certain warmth. Especially when we had a luncheon post-funeral in the basement of the church.

So many people important and special to my life were there --- the band director/ordained Catholic deacon who married my husband and me, my dad's aunts, uncles and cousins, a dear high school friend who drove 3.5 hours to be there from the Des Moines area. We ate ham sandwiches on white buns (with margarine, oleo as it's called there) and passed fruit salads, potato salads and baked goods. If you measure a person's life in love and laughter, I'd say this particular luncheon was a fitting tribute.

At my parents' house there were casseroles, brownines, meat and cheese trays, sympathy cards, flower, plants, carmel pecan rolls, flowers, beer brought by friends and more flowers. We sat there with Grandpa, sharing our love and support during what was a tough week. (He'd lost his sister the previous week and he turned 82 on Wednesday. I think all those events in combination remind you of your own mortality.)

We took flowers to shut-ins the day after the funeral. Then Mom and I drove to Cherokee, the count of seat of our county. There we went to a new little coffee shop and a kitchen speciality shop and a little place that sold purses. These are folks who don't need Fendi. If it holds there debit card from Farmers Savings Bank, it's good enough. We ate at the Bowling Alley, and the food was good and fresh and tasty and by my standards, inexpensive. These are the valuable lessons of where I grew up: because it's easy doesn't mean it sucks. Because it's convenient, it doesn't mean it's a cop out.

I don't have any desire to live in my hometown. But I do have a certain reverence for it. I've seen the way communities can act with kindness. For example, one of the richest guys in town winters in Arizona. When a family's house burned a couple of weeks ago, he volunteered his place. I'm sure there's no rental agreement or expectation, just kindness. I know there are more sides to the story; the lack of anonymitiy and the judgement of small-town folks. But largely it's a pretty amazing place. That's what I learned this week. A lesson in kindness and community. At the heart of it, I gues that's the lesson of life in a small town.