Today I’m over there…

The very talented Renee of Life in the Boomer Lane started a wonderful new blog called, Guerrilla Aging. When I first learned about it, I was thrilled. And I still am. It’s a forum for us more “seasoned” people to share thoughts, advice, memories, and humor about what it means to grow older gracefully and with spirit. I’ve been searching for a blog like hers for a long, long time. Thank you, Renee!

Today, my post, titled, “Invisible Woman,” is there on her blog. Please stop by and take a look. And check out the other posts from some other writers as well.

I’m going to enjoy visiting Guerrilla Aging through the new year. I know I’ll learn much, laugh a lot, and better appreciate what it means to be older in a young world.

 

Tying Up Loose Ends, Tripping Over Some

I’m not going into 2013 without tying up some loose ends. I have enough trouble navigating the hallways and rooms in this house what with all the dog toys strewn throughout the place.

Loose End #1
Many of you know about my ongoing summer battles with voles. Well, it turns out that I didn’t have a vole problem. Forgive me my ignorance of yard rodents. It is the industrious little pocket gopher that has been tearing up my yard, digging trenches and destroying plants. This misidentification of my yard varmint was unfortunate—no, it was more than that—it was tragic. My pocket gopher problem ended one afternoon this past summer after the 8^th or 9^th toxic fumigation of one of its tunnels.

My sister came across the dead gopher one evening on her way to my back door. She placed it on my porch railing so the dogs couldn’t get it and so I could witness the fruits of my successful battle.

But I don’t feel good about killing that gopher, especially after reading that they’re actually beneficial to the environment and they’re close to extinction in some places. So, this coming summer, instead of poisoning the earth, I’ll trap and release them. I’ll be more patient and understanding in between cursing them. They were here first. I’m the intruder.

The Vole. Cute. Not found in my backyard.

Pocket gopher. Ugly. Found in my backyard.

Loose End #2
I’ve decided to try to like more people in 2013. No, not on Facebook. In real life.

It’s always been the case—as a category, I prefer dogs to humans. They’ve been good to me, dogs have. They see me in the morning and rarely flinch. They greet me when I return to work as though I’ve been away for a year AND wrapped in a bacon suit.

What I look like to my dogs.

Not so much with people. But, then again, I really don’t try that hard to endear myself to people. You could call me a curmudgeon. You could, but then I’d probably snap at you. When it comes to warming up to a human, it’s a matter of comfort level and trust. If I see a dog approaching, the thoughts percolating to the surface are positive ones. I see a person approaching and I avert my eyes. If someone’s dog greets me, I reach out and pet their dog. If a human greets me, I wonder how long it will take before I can gracefully excuse myself.

Perhaps I should carry human treats in my pocket and, along with a cheery “Hello!” offer them a goodie. Or wear a bacon suit. It works with dogs.

Loose End #3
It’s past time to thank some blogger friends here. You’ve made my years as a blogger so worthwhile. I have more to read, yes, and not more time, but it’s worth it.

Mostly Bright Ideas: Thank you, Charles, for being one of the funniest humans I know. You have a marvelous way with words. You’ve heard that before but it needs repeating. We can see ourselves in the hilarious descriptions you offer about yourself and, through that, you help us laugh at our own faults and quirks. Even your comments are bits of brilliance, and more often than not, they are the kindest words I’ve ever heard. I love your blog. I recently received your book, “Writing Rules” and I adore it because it’s not your typical grammar guide, the kind containing examples that bore you into a coma.

Say you’re trying to learn the Present Perfect tense. Most grammar guides would include an example like this:

She has not returned the book to the library yet.

Snore.

Charles gives us this:

Have you ever worn a gorilla costume?

Despite his well-groomed appearance, Dan has never taken a bath.

Here’s his example for showing us the difference between “pore” and “pour”:

We pored over his letters, hoping to understand his sudden obsession with wool slippers.

As she poured the milk over her corn flakes, she also poured out her heart to me. It was pretty messy.

His blog is a literary delight. Please read it.

Okjimm: You’re off and on with your blog, Jim, but you’re always there with a funny and brilliant comment on my posts. You’re a keen observer of humans and you do it through eyes that see the profound, the sublime and the silly. I’ve appreciated the postcards and vintage ephemera that you send out of the blue. Mostly, I’m just proud to be your friend.

Lame Adventures: V, my New York girl, for years you’ve given me the insider’s tour of your city and not charged me a single cent. I live through your adventures as though I were there, next to you, wandering the streets of that fabulous town. I’ve realized that a person can have fun just staring up at a tennis shoe tree or wandering the five subway stops in Manhattan between West 57th and West 157th Streets to look at sculptures. And you’re defying the stereotype of the typical New Yorker, too. I wish I could join you and your friend, Milton, on one of your adventures.

She’s A Maineiac: Darla, you forever crack me up. You’ve got the marvelous facial expressions to go along with your goofy outlook on life. I adore your vlogs. You’re going to make a fantastic nurse and if “laughter is the best medicine,” you’re bound to cure thousands of patients. I wish I could visit you just once. I’d find a place for those shoes you keep leaving in the hallway. Please don’t stop writing. It’s my cure for a lousy morning.

A Voice From the Foothills: Sherry, you’re hardly adrift. You’re spot on in your posts. How you can continue to report the insanity in politics and society and still be funny about it, is a gift. You help remind me that I can never be complacent and stand by while injustice and stupidity affects our lives.

Blurt’s Blog: Thank you so much, Oma, for your hilarious takes on the typical, the usual, and the not-so-typical in life. You have the amazing ability to write for your readers in a way that makes us want to get involved in your shenanigans. You keep reminding me that life is going on all around us, in the tiniest of scenes, in the most mundane activities and experiences. We all need to be reminded that the big things aren’t what really matter; it’s when we look more closely at the day-to-day that we feel more a part of this life.

Woodgate’s View: Larry, you’re a sensitive, new-newer age kind of guy. You’re also deeply thoughtful, passionate about your views, and you explore each topic with a thorough understanding of the issues. Along with great information I get from your posts, is the sense that you sincerely want to make this world a better place for all of us. It’s wonderful to have someone like you on my side.

Please check my blogroll for more wonderful bloggers who enrich my life. It’s been a great year with all of them.

Social Media: Where Everyone Gets To Be A Comedian

Many of the laughs I get these days come out of reading posts on Facebook and tweets on Twitter. There’s a lot of funny out there. I’ve friended Stephen Colbert’s fan page, BadBanana, and a few others that rarely fail to get a chuckle. They’re professionals. They’ve got years of being funny behind them.

But social media, along with sucking up an enormous amount of our time, has also allowed a majority of us to exercise our comedic tendencies. Sometimes that’s successful, but most times, not so much. Personally, I think that quite a few would-be comedians on social media sites just aren’t funny.

And when it doesn’t work, it’s painful. Of course, you can say that humor is in the eye or ear of the beholder. You can say that. But then I’ll disagree with you, because I’ve got my Humor Rules.

Here’s how I see it:

1. Humor is all about context. It’s about the right time and the right place. If someone has just made a serious statement, and, perhaps, is wiping away real tears of pain, that’s not the time to make a joke, no matter how desperately you want a laugh. If you walk into the house immediately after wrecking your father’s new car, and you make a joke about it, don’t expect good old dad to laugh with you. You might want to wait on the humor—say for about 10 years or so.

If the context doesn’t warrant a joke, refrain. Otherwise, you’ve become the equivalent of the person who walks into a formal get together wearing a ratty t-shirt, sweatpants and dirty sneakers. You’re out of place. Get your hands off the hors d’oeuvres, put down the champagne glass, and leave.

2. The best humor is not obvious (Unless you’re Chevy Chase tripping over a podium.)  Sight gags are fine, but aren’t easy to carry off well. And too much is annoying and tiresome. I think Mr. Chase is now suffering from chronic back pain, by the way.

Chevy Chase

3. Making jokes about death and injury should generally be off limits. Be very, very cautious when confronted with a tragic situation involving death or serious injury. A long time ago I was working in an office with a fellow who fancied himself quite a jokester. When another coworker’s parent died, Shecky (we’ll call him Shecky) made a joke about it. And try as I might, I could not convince him that his joke was inappropriate. I got the standard response of the humorless boor, “You have no sense of humor.” No, I do have a sense of humor and some respect and compassion to go along with it.

I want to point out one instance involving a person’s death that did garner a tremendous amount of joking and laughter. And I joined in. The joke was directed at Generalissimo Francisco Franco and originated in 1975 during the first season of NBC’s Saturday Night. For many interminable weeks, the news reported the Spanish dictator’s impending death, thereby chiseling into the lexicon of humor the famous phrase: “Generalissimo Francisco Franco is still dead.”

He is still dead.

4. Know when to not try so hard. It’s the inappropriate and sophomoric use of humor that annoys me almost the most. I wish some people weren’t so desperate to be the funniest person in the room.

Oddly, this CAN be funny.

It seems to me that we’re living in a nation where we’ve all become so desperate for the “like” or for a “retweet.” We’re the kid in the back of the class who desperately wants to be known as the class clown. But we can’t function in a society full of class clowns, or full of people striving to be the class clown. That world would be annoying, wouldn’t it? And, think about it—we’d not make one bit of progress in solving our nation’s problems.

In social media and elsewhere, communication relies on an audience. Many of us seem to be uncomfortable with the notion of sitting in the audience. We want the stage and the spotlight. Is it so very awful to be considered the one who laughs rather than who gets the laughs?

Lastly, if someone doesn’t appreciate your sense of humor, there’s no reason to feel slighted. You don’t have to get angry. Telling that individual to “lighten up” is simply code for, “I’m mad at you for not thinking I’m funny.”

Yes, I realize that humor is a very subjective thing. That’s why I called these my “Humor Rules”, which isn’t to say that my humor rules or rocks. Once in a while, I admit, I laugh at my own jokes. Often, I’m usually the only one in the room laughing. But I’m okay with not being funny all of the time. It’s too much work and sometimes it gives me a cramp.

Your vs. You’re. You’re About to Give Me A Few Minutes of Your Time.

You’re going to be treated to Grammargraphics today. This is not your typical post. I beg your indulgence for a few minutes.

But before you go on, I must rant. Why have adults decided it’s no longer necessary to use good grammar? Who decided that “you’re” and “your” are interchangeable? Introduce me to him or her, please. I have some pummeling to administer.

In the last couple of years, I’ve seen this error routinely being made by people who should know better. The majority of us deserve a pass for not understanding limits, functions, derivatives, integrals, and infinite series. Calculus, after all, is a higher level math skill and is useful only to those wearing pocket protectors and eyeglasses held together by duct tape.

But grammar is the glue that holds a civilization together. Using poor grammar signals one’s ignorance and carelessness—like exiting a bathroom with toilet paper trailing from your shoe or dangling from underneath your skirt.

I’m not talking about the improper use of the semicolon, misplaced modifiers, or when to use the em dash. The difference between “your” and “you’re” should have been learned in grade school and never forgotten. Here’s a reminder.

And now you know.

You’re welcome.

By the way, another grammar-centric individual has taken on this crusade and posts regularly on twitter, exposing the ridiculous and incorrect usage of these words. Entertaining and instructive, you can find it on twitter: @YourInAmerica.

The Myth of Older and Wiser

Well known and cherished couplings that seem to last the test of time: Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, bacon and eggs, snow on Christmas morning, Willie Nelson and country music, and so on.

Older and wiser? Not so much.

The world presents us with enough evidence to confirm that few of us, very few, become wiser as we age. If I wanted to use data here, I’d make a case that at least 96% of the older among us are clearly not wiser.

I bet you that nearly every one of us older folks have said things like, “I’m sure glad I know what I know now.” And then we proceed to do the most foolish and hapless things—as though we’re suffering from amnesia and cannot rely on the memory of our youthful indiscretions to guide our behavior. It’s not as though examples of older NOT wiser behavior hide from view. The media, after all, thrives on them; frequent and blatant examples of careless acts are the Vitamin D of network news.

Something false resonates in Sinatra’s words, “Regrets, I’ve had a few. But I did it my way.” Because “my way” frequently includes a trip to the emergency room, unemployment, bankruptcy, jail time, divorce, or adulterous liaisons. Frankly, “my way” doesn’t exist. There is no “my way” when it comes to foolish behavior, rash encounters, and general imprudence. Because, in fact, my way too often resembles the way of so many older and NOT wiser characters. The my way is a road paved with embarrassing and painful examples of reckless behavior. We have plenty of examples around us—we have a veritable GPS of examples, yet we don’t use it.

Incapable of older and wiser

Older, NOT Wiser, and a Name to Go With It

A bit of anecdotal evidence: My father, who used to be a dentist before he retired, now behaves as though an all chocolate diet is healthy. My mother, who used to be a nurse, supports this practice. Older, not wiser.

Do this quick exercise: Make a list of all the older and wiser things you’ve done. Next to it, make a list of all the older and NOT wiser things you’ve done. Which list is longer?

The photocopy will live on

Of course, that probably wouldn’t be an accurate test because, remarkably, our memories don’t hold onto all of the unwise, irrational, thoughtless and reckless things we’ve done in our older years. Mercifully so.

In my case, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve done something older and wiser. For example, I got rid of my snowboard last month because the image of damaging my veneers and breaking a hip had come into clearer focus as time went by. Perhaps we all need to play a video in our heads of the most likely outcome of our idiotic behavior—in full color with Surround Sound. Bring popcorn and a large soda.

Grays on Trays: Recipe for Disaster

A lot of us are expressing shock and awe over the Petraeus love quadrangle. Our reaction tells others that we believe the older, more celebrated, and most powerful among us are immune to poor judgment in some areas of their lives. Why should they be?

What does this all mean?

1. Perhaps we should be less hasty in condemning others for stupid behavior.

2. It would behoove us to use the examples of the older and NOT wiser to guide our behavior. Oddly, we rarely do.

3. Most of us seem to love a gloriously colossal fall from grace. What does that say about us?

4. Humans appear to be just as reflexive in the presence of temptation as a hungry mutt. Perhaps we’re all doomed to repeat mistakes and do stupid things.

5. Don’t wait for the news to print evidence of your less wise moments to become older and wiser.

Honestly, we will NEVER learn. Stop scolding the younger generation for being irresponsible, rash and immature. Instead, repeat and repeat often, “Do as I say, not as I do.”

Dogs, Cats and Demons

Spelled backwards, “God” is “doG.” Obvious, yet filled with meaning and possibility. Personally, I believe that dogs are, in fact, the most godly of all creatures. Dogs. Not cats. Cats are servants of the devil. They’d be more than happy to escort their owners to the gates of Hell. Oh, yes, they’d look cute while doing so, but nonetheless, you’d watch as they trotted away, their tails twitching back and forth as Hell’s greeter shoved you through the gates into a fiery pit.

You see what I just did? I demonized cats. It was easy. All it involved was typing a few words.

Throughout this recent election season, I found it impossible to avoid demonizing my opponents. I couldn’t seem to stop. I used it as the only way to manage my anger over the intolerance, bigotry and racism that kept spewing forth. I think I also used it to gird myself from the uneasiness I felt, and still feel, knowing that people with so much hatred and fear are living among us.

If I can think of them as being filled with an evil spirit, then, the next act is to write them off, to write them out of my life. They are, after all, beyond redemption. Or are they?

Do you wonder that the dire employment situation has led a large portion of the U.S. to believe that President Obama is their enemy, a demon in disguise? Strong emotion and the agony of not knowing when one might ever work again or be able to afford a home again, could drive people to need some outlet for their fears. Irrational, yes, but necessary to hang onto until things get better. That might explain some of the reaction to our President, but others, the ones who voted for him, clearly see him as a way out of this mess.

Seeing instances of outright racism displayed throughout the last four years, coming from intelligent people as well as the ignorant, made it feel as though I were living in a different U.S. I’ve seen even more of it now in the last few days since President Obama has been elected to another term.

If I consider the source of these fears and paranoia to be ignorance, is it at all possible to reach them through education? I don’t think so. When one is in the midst of a fight and flight response, there’s no way for information to find its way in.

Through these last few years, I’ve unfriended a few people on Facebook and hid the posts of others whose remarks were strident, negative and biased. Yet my posts were just as loudly expressed and condemning of the views of the opposite side.

Well, no one is perfect. But most of us can learn. This doesn’t mean that I’d welcome the angry and partisan back to my Facebook page. But, perhaps, if I can take the volume down and soften the tone, it might just influence others to do the same.

Here’s a simple example showing how I’m putting tolerance into action. Remember: Baby steps. It’s a small start but it’s in the right direction. One of my Facebook friends regularly and frequently posts those photos of cats doing and saying funny things. I’ve found myself clicking “Like” on almost all of them.

Cats stand a chance with me. Perhaps my opponents will, too.

Boston Terrier Attacks Demon Broom

No, I’m Not Going to Gloat

I had a post written a week ago that I edited and rewrote at least four times. The post covered the egregious misstatements made and circulated widely about President Obama for the last four years, including,

• He’s a Communist/Socialist
• He’s not an American Citizen
• He’s a Muslim

And, today, I deleted it. I’m too mentally exhausted to go there. How are you feeling? Mentally and emotionally fatigued?

Granted, I was awake on and off all night long listening to the outcome on my radio. So, that’s where the physical exhaustion comes from. The mental and emotional fatigue has much to do with trying to gird myself against the ridiculous and hateful accusations and insults thrown at our President since he was elected. It’s also weariness that stems from watching a Congress fight with each other for four years and accomplish so very little.

I’m sick of the platitudes, aren’t you? Yes, we all want our elected representatives to “reach across the aisle” and work together. Will they reach across the aisle to discuss a compromise, or will they reach across and pinch the delicate, very sensitive, fleshy underside of their opponent’s upper arm?

That remains to be seen. But compromise won’t happen unless we citizens demand that both sides agree to disagree on some issues, but still move forward and make decisions that allow both sides to feel a win is applauding in the room. We have to write the people we elected and demand they stop making governing more about their chances of returning to office and more about what they can do that moves us even a few inches closer to a solution.

I hope to get a better night’s sleep this night. And I’m sure my dogs do, as well. I was a bit vocal while lying there in bed listening to the radio.

Forward.

Magenta Quail

C MY Kolors

Bullying: What Tyra Banks Is and Isn’t Teaching Us

I’ll confess this today, but please promise you won’t hold it against me. It’s not something I’m proud of at all. I’m working on ridding myself of this habit. It might take an intervention.

I watch America’s Next Top Model. Ugh. It hurt to type that. I need an antacid. But, let me say this: It’s the last season I’m going to watch.

I used to admire Tyra Banks, the creator and host of the show. After all, she was one of the first and most notable in her industry to endorse and even celebrate women who come in larger sizes. She should be commended for her work in encouraging women and young girls to accept their bodies and in not allowing unhealthily skinny girls to appear on her show.

Unfortunately, where she falls down in holding to a higher standard lies with the issue of bullying. In each of ANTM’s episodes you’re privy to sizable segments featuring “off camera” moments when the girls aren’t competing in a structured event. And what we see in those moments are countless, disturbing instances of bullying among the contestants.

At some point in the de-evolution of television, the competition reality show became standard fare. Each station now delivers up an unending variety of shows in which the “stars” compete with each other. By no means is it friendly competition, though. It wasn’t enough for contestants on Survivor to win the challenges; they had to engage in vicious exchanges, backbiting and ganging up against others. Big Brother trapped all of us between four walls, making those of us who couldn’t escape endure constant malicious and venomous exchanges between members of the house. Even the Biggest Loser, attempting worthwhile goals, subjects us to scenes of contestants disparaging other contestants, as if each of them didn’t have enough of an emotional and physical burden to bear. No pun intended.

But we demand it, don’t we? Would we watch if we couldn’t be voyeurs to the bullying and nastiness? Don’t a lot of us get a private thrill when someone shouts down someone else, gets the last word or threatens another into silence? We don’t care about substance; we want winners at all costs. And we want a loser.

The other morning I heard an alarming statistic about the rise of young women being placed in juvenile correction facilities. I may be overreaching here, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to find a correlation between the increase in females to juvenile correction and shows like Jersey Shore and its various odious spawn—shows that feature young women “getting all up in someone’s grille” and generally behaving like thugs. Young girls are learning to glorify girl-on-girl combat. They give a hearty fist pump to the girl who has the fiercest head wag, the loudest comeback, and who makes her opponent back down.

Research on the effects of TV violence have been summarized by the National Institute of Mental Health: ” . . . violence on television does lead to aggressive behavior by children and teenagers who watch the programs. This conclusion is based on laboratory experiments and on field studies. Not all children become aggressive, of course, but the correlations between violence and aggression are positive.”

In the case of ANTM, in every season, at least one contestant is singled out for derision and humiliation. And when she’s kicked off, a replacement for the bullying is found.

The worst part is this: These young wannabe models aren’t judged on their respectful demeanor, teamwork, civility and fair play. Hardly. Tyra Banks and the other judges shower compliments on the contestants’ beauty and ability to master a mean runway walk, while allowing reprehensible behavior to go on in the background. What do you think that’s teaching young girls? Beauty only needs to lie at the surface? That true beauty is just foundation and mascara, which can be washed off each night?

It’s a shame that Ms. Banks doesn’t see her role as also creating responsible, respectful, compassionate and considerate women. But that would make her show entirely too dull, wouldn’t it?

Bullying is a serious issue in our country. Any child who’s been through it can be scarred for life. Any child who’s been through it can end his or her life because of it. Any parent that stands by, knowing that it’s going on, will reap the consequences of their lack of concern. And powerful, notable celebrities could make such a difference if they cared to. I wish Tyra had learned that at Harvard.

You Don’t Know Me (Well Enough to Hurt Me)

Read:
StopBullying.gov

American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry – Facts for Families

National Bullying Prevention Center

Cartoon Networks Stop Bullying Campaign

 

Baking for Your Dogs: Expecting Ingratitude in a World Full of It

As if my word hasn’t been sufficient to convince you that China is trying to kill our pets, check out this news: October Update: List of Dog Product Recalls: Keep Your Canine Safe From Dangerous Products.

This link also lists umpteen varieties of dog treats, many of which are made in China, that have been recalled this past year.

That’s a reason, though for me not the only one, that I’ve begun making my own dog treats. My sister gave me a cookbook for Christmas, titled, “Baking for Your Dog.”

Isn’t that a sweet cover photo? The only problem is that it’s total fiction. At least in my home it is.

The author of this cookbook would have us believe that dogs across the nation appreciate the efforts their owners go through to provide homemade goodies. A multitude of dog kisses for slavish indulgence. But, whoa! Parents: How many times have your children begged, “Please, Mom, can’t we just buy the Oreos?” (You can substitute Chips Ahoy, Twinkies, etc. for Oreos.) Children tend to believe that store bought is better. Perhaps that fiasco with your healthier version of chocolate chip cookies convinced them. Whatever the case, my dogs share that belief to an extent.

I spent several hours recently making homemade dog treats only to have my ungrateful little wretches turn up their wet noses at them. On several occasions, they’ve actually spit them out. And then they look toward the pantry, where I keep the store-bought dog treats.

She’d rather eat a tennis ball.

I gave up an hour on a lovely afternoon baking tuna treats for Stella and Sally only to suffer blatant disdain for my efforts. They both sniffed the treats, but upon finding out I had used the cheap, mushy tuna in a can, they walked away. Even Carmella, my sister’s dog, who will eat everything without smelling it first, turned them down. Eventually, I hid them underneath a pile of cooked chicken and kibble. And, yes, fed it to them.

On another occasion, I purposely saved two bananas out of a bunch so that I could make the Banana Cookies recipe. In addition to the banana, the recipe called for carrots, oats and a little bit of flour and oil. The result? No takers for this one, either. And this from pooches who’ll eat goose poop with fervor. Not willing to toss them in the trash, the treats ended up in a crockpot breakfast dish for me.  It was quite delicious, thank you.

My favorite saying is, “Expect Ingratitude.” I’ve thought about this much more lately because of the upcoming election and certain circumstances taking place at my job. I’ve experienced days of feeling beaten down, unappreciated, and taken for granted. But this past week, events took place at work that made me realize how many of my coworkers feel the same way. I’m not alone. A lot of us feel at least a bit entitled to more than what we’ve gotten from the hours we spend at work. Some days, I want to stand up in my cubicle and scream, “Why can’t you see the genius that I bring to this Tower of Tears?”

I would be shushed, however.

But I think a lot of us are feeling underappreciated—this scream lies festering underneath the surface of us all. And perhaps the answer is not to commiserate, but to offer praise to someone else, to acknowledge the genius—or at least, the hard work they do.

So, this coming week, I will put that into practice at work and try to turn it into a routine—nothing disingenuous, just well-timed.

As for my dogs? I’m preparing a cheese plate for them right now.

The grapes are for me, not the dogs.

Get Thee Behind Me, Election!

I’ve been so absorbed and distracted by the presidential election that I’ve lost complete track of more important news. It could happen to anyone, so I won’t beat myself up too much over it. While I’ve been reading news about the election, the critical issues facing our country, the differing opinions that Romney has had with himself, the differences between the two candidates’ positions, and a smattering of Mid-East and Euro events, quite a few crucial news items escaped my notice.

Hulk Hogan is in full embarrassment mode. He’s dragged the FBI into an incident involving the leaking of a sex tape featuring the reality show actor/wrestler and his BFF’s wife.

Wait, did I get that right? Or, did Hulk Hogan get into hot water with Lindsey Lohan after he cursed out her mom for criticizing Lindsey’s bad beet-red dye job? Okay, now I’m really confused. Wasn’t it Nicki Minaj who cursed out Lindsey Lohan over a comment that Lindsey’s Dad made referring to Nicki’s carnival wig?

I could barely bring myself to write the couple of paragraphs above. Halfway through it, I got supremely bored. Google’s Entertainment section of the news is replete with the most banal, the inconsequential and the stupid. While Rome burns, Katie Holmes tries to sneak unnoticed onto a subway train in New York. While Syria burns, Britney Spears, Rihanna, Justin Bieber and Miley Cyrus stumble back into the news with more inane and useless detritus.

But today I realized that I’m hanging on for November 7. Though I feel immensely invested in the outcome of the election, I’m weary of the polls and the media’s relentless coverage. I’m tired of the Facebook conversations, even though I’ve done my fair share of contributing to them. I’ve let a lot of people know more about my political views than I ever thought I would or should. I suspect I’ve lost a few friends in the process. I’ve even questioned the sanity of friends who are supporting the other candidate. I read something recently about the state of mind we’re in during this election cycle—one that describes us as believing the world will come to an end if the other candidate wins.

Sometimes I wonder if the world has been coming to an end for many decades right under our noses. Not the world ending in the religious sense, but the world ending for what used to be a fully participative and representative democracy. Perhaps it’s because I recently watched two films, “Puncture” and “The Constant Gardener” in which huge corporations garnered obscene and destructive influence to prevent and undermine efforts for the common good and the disenfranchised—the invisible and powerless among us. I’ve started to wonder if behind the scenes of the average citizen’s day, while he or she is shopping for groceries, mowing the lawn, and so on, operate immense corporate forces and political power-monsters that are silently and covertly taking over the world to enslave the middle class. And all to the extent that it makes the average citizen’s involvement in the issues of our day—or voting in elections—completely meaningless and futile.

I want the election to be here and gone. Long after it is, though, I’ll know that I can’t step away from the issues that have brought me to be more vocal during this particular election season. So much of what I have read and experienced has made the issues more significant and personal than ever before. I can’t go backwards towards ignorance.

I have to laugh, otherwise I’d weep over this fact: It’s highly likely that I’ve not convinced even one person to vote for my preferred presidential candidate. I doubt that I’ve swayed one single person. However, I do know that my mom remains a pliable and willing victim of my influence, as long as I get to her the moment before she votes. But then again, it won’t even matter. She lives in Texas. It’s a lost cause.

So, I find myself fervently wanting to be distracted by other inconsequential things going on close by my home. After all, I have wandering mountain lions in my neighborhood to fear! More pleasantly are the signs that Autumn is returning to Idaho. There will be leaves to rake, trees to prune and the wintering over of bulbs. My antidote to the serious political, social and economic issues have been photos of dogs, primarily Boston Terriers, and squirrels wearing hats. The need for pleasant interruption feels more important than ever. Stella, my older Boston Terrier approaching her twilight year, reminds me that life is short. I tell her, as I gently nudge her back into the doggie bed, not to rush the morning. It’s Sunday. We need a rest from the serious and topical.

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