Football!

There's something special about college football. While money is always a factor, for most of the athletes, college is the last time they'll get to play in a stadium in front of a crowd. For many of the seniors, there is no "next year." They seem to want to win for the sake of winning and will lay their bodies on the line for a trophy as simple as an Axe, a Bell, a Cup. And if they get to play for larger stakes--a shiny silver trophy awarded on national television--so much the better.

The play-calling is more creative, the coaches more willing to try a stunt play. The Song Girls/Dance Team/Pom-Pom Girls look like the girls next door and often cry when the team loses. The Cheerleaders/Yell Leaders and the Mascots give their all to rally the audience behind the team.

This year Cal was invited to the Emerald Bowl, located a mere 1.5 miles from my office. The Bowl sponsors were thrilled: they got their first sell-out. The Cal Seniors were happy: they played their last game in front of a home crowd. And Cal fans were excited: it was cheaper to see the Emerald Bowl than the Big Game versus Stanford. Cal fans bought up their allotment and all the tickets the University of Miami turned back in. Ten members of my family attended--thanks, Mom! And Happy Day-After-Your-Birthday, too. :)

The only Bowl Game that would have made us happier would have been the Rose Bowl.

Jahvid Best, who played for the local Catholic High School in my neck of the woods, gave the right answer when asked about next year's Heisman Trophy: "We want the National Championship!" Turns out the Rose Bowl hosts the BCS Championship game in 2010.

Ah-ha.

The game turned out to be closer than it seemed like it would be. Miami's team is young and I foresee great things for their young quarterback. I wouldn't be surprised to see another Cal vs. Miami match-up at a Bowl Game next year. Meanwhile, I hope Tedford finds the answer to the passing game: a QB who can throw accurately and Wide Receivers who can catch consistently.

The Pac-10 is now 5-0 in Bowl Games this season and will gain some respect among the football pundits.

Nah. Don't think so.

Other games are on, allowing Hubs and I to watch dispassionately, analyzing strengths and weaknesses of the various teams. Next week it will all be over and I'll reading about the Giants and the A's, their bullpens and the stadium plans of the A's.

Religion: Hazardous to Your Health

Our Advent Wreath sits on the coffee table in the family room. I try to keep the table clear of the Stuff that seems to collect on any horizontal surface in our house--I mean, these are real candles, with real flames. Usually someone is in the family room at all times.

However, no one told the cats.

We have four of them. Three are fairly intelligent; one is just, plain dumb. They love DD#1--she is their mother. When they see her, they cluster around meowing loudly until she gives them what they want. This particular cat loves milk, poured in a small dish and set upon the coffee table.

Apparently she didn't notice the Advent Wreath. Or, cat-like, chose to ignore it. She couldn't eat it--what good was it.

And so, while DD#1 was getting this cat her milk, the cat brushed against the candles and managed to set herself on fire.

I was upstairs when I heard DD#1 say, "What smells like hair burning?" (Yes, we've had some hair burning mishaps before.)

Then I heard, "Puppy! (Yes, the cat's name is Puppy. We also have a cat named Mouse.) You're on fire!"

Fortunately, Puppy just lost some fur. I was concerned that she would panic and set the house on fire. But DD#1 calmly put the fire out and Puppy maintained her dignity.

However, she no longer jumps on the coffee table!

Review: Mobile Gabriel

Mobile Gabriel is a website that has the readings for Mass, both Daily and Sunday. It's available for viewing over your computer or you can download it to your PDA or smartphone (iPhone, Treo, Blackberry, Centro, etc.) through an e-book reader called "Mobipocket." Mobipocket is available free of charge and Mobile Gabriel has instructions.

You can also download Mobile Gabriel to your PDA/smartphone through AvantGo, which is how I found Mobile Gabriel originally. (AvantGo has other sites, secular and religious, you can download as well.)

Mobile Gabriel is free. (I like free!) Besides the Daily and Sunday Mass readings there is a reflection written by Don Schwager which focuses on a key phrase from the Gospel.

The readings of Daily Mass either continue the theme of the readings from the previous Sunday or lead into the themes for the coming Sunday. Many of my favorite parables and Psalms appear in these readings. The same stories will often appear, but from a different Evangelist, so the same event will be told with a slightly different emphasis.

Reading the Daily Mass helps put the Sunday Mass into context and is especially useful for those weeks I'm a lector. By the end of three years (Cycle A, Cycle B, Cycle C), I will have read most of the Bible. And I don't have to flip through the different Books of the Bible to find the correct Chapter and Verse. Because I have my Centro with me, I'm more likely to follow the Daily Mass readings--I usually read them waiting in line for my BART train at the end of my work day. Waiting in line might not be the ideal time to contemplate the Divine; on the other hand, I'm reminded that God and Jesus are with me always. Besides, Jesus didn't just preach in the Temple. :)

On the March Hare scale: 5 out of 5 Golden Bytes.

crossposted at Catholic Media Review

It's Christmas Time in The City

Out here in the Politically Correct Bay Area, Christmas seems to be making a comeback. The tree in the lobby of the Hyatt Regency Hotel (the largest hotel lobby west of the Mississippi), is called a Christmas Tree. Radio station KOIT calls itself the Christmas Music Station, playing secular songs and traditional religious Christmas carols. The classical music station, KDFC, intersperses traditional carols with classical music and offers classical Christmas music over the web.

Store clerks are as likely to wish me "Merry Christmas" as they are "Happy Holidays."

Mervyn's may be going out of business, but they let the Salvation Army station a bell-ringer out front.

My suburban town has a Christmas tree in the downtown park--and had a celebration to light it--as well as a string of lights in the shape of a star stretched across the street.

Kind of reassuring. Maybe we haven't completely lost our way.

"A Day Without... Whom?"

Okay--if I hadn't read about it on Michelle Malkin's blog, I wouldn't have realized that yesterday was supposed to be "A Day Without Gays." Even in Radical San Francisco there were no parades, protests, or signs. My BART train was full. The Holiday Party sponsored by the Management Group of the office building went on as planned. The food was as tasty as ever. The trio played all sorts of Christmas music.

If anyone called in "gay," I sure didn't notice.

The End of An Era

DD#2 had an appointment today at the orthodontist for a retainer check. When she came back to the front she announced, "I'm done!"

While she still has to wear her retainers, she no longer has any appointments.

DS#2's last appointment was this summer. DD#1's last appointment was a couple of months ago.

No more getting in the car at 6:30 a.m. for a 7:00 a.m. appointment. No more notes for school. After six years, we're done.

I feel kind of... sad. In a "another childhood milestone reached/completed" kind of way.

Movie Review: Australia

First Disclaimer: I would pay to watch Hugh Jackman read the phone book. So, no, this review is definitely not unbiased.

Australia is told from the point of view of a young boy, Nullah (Brandon Walters). He is a "creamy": half-white, half-aborigine. His grandfather, King George, is a "magic" man who is teaching young Nullah the songs that impart all the wisdom of the Aboriginal people. Nullah has some magic in him, too, but he also realizes that he does not belong to the Aboriginal world. Neither does he belong to the white world. He has to find his own spot.

Complicating matters, the Australian Government is removing mixed-blood children from their Aboriginal mothers, forcing the children to attend boarding schools with the intention of "breeding the black" out of them. So Nullah and his mother are ever watchful for the local law.

The year is 1939. World War II has begun, but is confined to Continental Europe for the moment. A young English woman, Lady Sarah Ashley (Nicole Kidman), flies to Darwin, Australia, to persuade her husband to sell his cattle ranch and come home to England where he belongs. However, her husband's cattle station, Faraway Downs, is the only competition for the local cattle baron, King Carney (Bryan Brown). Carney is trying to drive Lord Ashley out of business so he will be the sole provider of beef cattle to the Australian Army.

Lord Ashley has sent his cattle drover (Hugh Jackman) to meet Lady Ashley at the pier in Darwin and bring her to Faraway Downs. The drover is self-employed, working for whomever he chooses. While waiting for Lady Ashley in the local bar, one of Carney's men insults him, calling him a "Boo lover." Drover slugs the man and the fight is on, moving out into the street, where Lady Ashley's luggage becomes part of the melee. She is horrified to see her lingerie scattered across the dirt street. Drover--for that's the only name he's called during the film--mutters an apology. They begin the two-day journey to Faraway Downs in a beat-up truck, overtopped with what ends up being a couch and arm chair.

Of course, Lady Ashley and Drover despise each other. She thinks he has designs on her. He informs her that he wouldn't sleep with her if she were the last female on Earth.

We know where it's going to lead--right?

Thirty minutes (or less--I wasn't looking at my watch), Drover has his shirt off and is washing up. For those who remember Mr. Jackman in Leopold and Kate, it's obvious Mr. Jackman has been working out. With good results.

When they reach Faraway Downs, Lord Ashley has been killed and King George is the primary suspect. Lady Ashley discovers that the foreman of the station has been working for Carney as well as beating Nullah (whom she suspects is his son) and Nullah's mother on a regular basis.

She fires him. He leaves, taking his men with him.

But there are 2000 head of cattle that need to be driven to Darwin if she is to have a chance at the government contract. She needs Drover's help. He's not sure that a well-bred Englishwoman can survive the tough ride.

And this is just the first half of the movie.

If you've ever watched a Western that involves a cattle drive, you know what will happen, more or less. What makes this drive different is Nullah. His grandfather is always watching from a distance. And Nullah is a special boy--he has learned his lessons well and he is brave. Frankly, Brandon Walters steals this movie from Ms. Kidman and Mr. Jackman, much as the director tries to limit his screen time.

There are lots of soulful looks between Lady Sarah and Drover. A lot of close-ups, which will probably play better on the small screen once this movie is released on DVD. There are discussions about the land and the importance of having a story and of song.

The cattle drive ends in Darwin, which sets up the next scene: a charity ball to fund the Mission where the mixed-blood children will live. This provides an opportunity for Ms. Kidman to wear a beautiful gown and for Mr. Jackman to clean up and wear a white dinner jacket. He does clean up well. The scene also gives Ms. Kidman a speech about how horrible it is to tear these children from their mothers and to show how small-minded and prejudiced the average white Australian was in 1939.

There is an interlude of relative calm until 1942. Using newsreel footage, the move jumps forward to the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor and on the movements of the Japanese through Southeast Asia. Drover accepts an assignment from the Australian Army: a six-month "drove" of cattle. Nullah wants to go walkabout with King George. Lady Ashley doesn't want either of them to go, so Nullah sneaks off and she tells Drover that if he leaves, he shouldn't return. So (of course), he leaves.

However, Nullah hasn't gone walkabout--he's been taken by the sheriff and is going off to Mission Island, which is directly in the path of the Japanese. Lady Ashley can't save him, but she can help with the war effort, monitoring the radio transmissions from the priest at Mission Rock.

Meanwhile, Drover is having his psyche dissected by his best friend, who happens to be an Aborigine. They notice planes flying over--Americans--and Drover figures that this is not a good sign. They ride back to Darwin in time to see the place in flames. Drover assumes Lady Ashley is dead and, when he hears that Mission Island has been attacked, commandeers a boat to find Nullah.

The acting is uniformly good. The writing could have been tighter and more true to the time: would an English lady really leave the manor to travel to the Outback? Would she really go against the conventional thinking about Aborigines? To her credit, Ms. Kidman makes it seem plausible. Mr. Jackman plays the quintessential cowboy, albeit an Australian. His toughness covers his vulnerability. His actions speak instead of his words.

The love scenes are discreet. The language is clean for the most part.

I was happily surprised that this was not another "Convicts come to Australia" movie. I tend to forget how close to Southeast Asia and the Pacific Theater Australia was. I wish I had looked at map beforehand, though, to get oriented as to where Darwin is on the continent. In the opening credits, it looks like the film was signed off by a group representing the Indigenous People (I don't remember the exact name and it's not listed on IMDb). Their characters and their traditions are presented very respectfully. In fact, I wish there had been more about them in the movie.

At the end of the movie, there is a note that the forced removal of children was ended in the 1950's and the Australian Government issued a formal apology to the "Stolen Generation."

Word of warning: do not drink a large soda prior to the movie. There is no intermission. ;)

There wasn't quite enough action to keep Hubs completely engaged. (Nicole Kidman is too thin for his tastes.) DS#2 (18), DD#1 (22), and DD#2 (15) want to see it--and I'd be willing to see it with them.

A good movie if you need a break from the holiday madness.

On the March Hare scale: 4 out 5 Golden Tickets

crossposted at Catholic Media Review

Gift Idea: Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine

Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine is known as a "pulp": printed on cheap newsprint, a little bit larger than a standard paperback. The format is a throwback to the pulps of the 1940's and '50's where now recognized Grand Masters--like Isaac Asimov, Robert Heinlein, and Theodore Sturgeon--first refined their craft. And in that tradition, Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine publishes short stories and novellas from current authors like Connie Willis and Alan Steele and new authors as well.

The stories vary in length, style, and subject. Some are hard SF, some are soft, occasionally there is fantasy. Each issue includes poetry, editorial columns, book reviews, web site reviews, and a Convention Calendar.

Subscriptions for one year (10 issues), U.S., is about $33.00. There are "double issues" twice a year. Check the website (www.asimovs.com) for details. There is also an online version.

I've been a subscriber off-and-on since the mid-1980's. A subscription is now on my permanent Christmas list (Thanks, Mom!). Some issues, some stories, some authors stand out more than others. Other authors have used the stories first published in Asimov's as a basis for their novels.

Content warning! This is not a magazine for children. Some stories contain adult language, adult situations--including sex scenes and drug use--and violence. Some authors are not sympathetic to organized religion--and that bias may show up in some of their stories.

A warning is usually included in the front of the stories the editors think might be the most offensive. However, everyone has different triggers. Over the years, I've noticed the themes of the stories come in waves: a spate of bionic soldier stories, a spate of global cooling stories, a spate of global warming stories, a spate of First Encounter stories.

Overall, the quality of the writing is excellent. The short story and novella format allows for a lot of experimentation with themes and ideas that isn't possible with a novel because a novel is a significant investment of time and money on the part of the author and the publisher.

Asimov's is my favorite "commuter" magazine: it's small and there's a lot of variety, both in story length and content. I usually find one story I really enjoy and there are some, like Connie Willis's annual Christmas story, that I look forward to. A year of enjoyment for the cover price of a single hardback!

On the March Hare scale: 4.5 out of 5 Golden Bookmarks, excellent for the discriminating SF reader.

crossposted at Catholic Media Review

Book Review: Hannibal

Hannibal open seven years after the Silence of the Lambs. Clarice Starling, now a full FBI agent, is on a drug bust with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms, the D.C. police, and the Drug Enforcement Agency. They're bringing in a woman who is running a meth factory and who Clarice has arrested previously.

The bust goes bad. Clarice, who is a champion pistol shooter, ends up killing the woman. Unfortunately, the woman was carrying her infant in a sling and used the child as a shield. Clarice was able to kill her without harming the child, but the TV news clips don't show the woman firing. Her family files suit and someone's head must roll to appease public opinion.

In the midst of all this turmoil, Clarice receives a letter. She recognizes the handwriting--it's from Hannibal Lecter who has been silent for these seven years. His letter alternately taunts and comforts Clarice and reignites the search for Hannibal.

The FBI, however, isn't the only entity looking for Hannibal. His sixth victim, Mason Verger, has been looking for him and is offering a reward. Because of the attack, Mason is bedridden and a paraplegic and, with nearly unlimited wealth, revenging himself on Hannibal has become his reason for living. Mason has his contacts within the FBI and knows what they know, usually before they do.

Hannibal, in the meantime, is now living in Florence, Italy, and is a curator, the previous one having mysteriously disappeared. His appearance has been altered during his stay in Brazil, including the amputation of the sixth finger on his left hand. He is content until a local police inspector begins to suspect who "Dr. Fell" really is. However, greed gets the better of the good inspector and he tries to capture "Dr. Fell" outside normal police channels, with disastrous consequences.

Thus Hannibal finds himself back in the Eastern United States and his seduction of Clarice Starling begins.

During the course of the story,the author, Thomas Harris, gives us some insight to Hannibal Lecter, clues as to how he became the monster he is. We also see more of what makes Clarice Starling tick and her frustration at being thwarted from rising in the ranks of the FBI. But I never felt any real sympathy for either of them as people. Mason Verger is absolutely evil--there are no redeeming qualities about him at all. His sister is hardly better. In fact, the character I thought was most fleshed out was the Italian police inspector: his motives for his actions were clear and plausible. The rest of them--eh, not so much.

I admit I have not read Silence of the Lambs and there might have been some important information about the characters there. Or Red Dragon, which I believe is the first book about Hannibal Lecter.

The ending was a let down.

Content Warning! Hannibal is still a cannibal. Graphic descriptions of what Hannibal does to his victims and of Mason Verger's physical state. Also graphic descriptions of what Mason does to his victims. Lots of morally unsavory characters as well.

Fortunately, I bought this copy at a Used Book Sale at my local library, so I'm not out full price. :)

On the March Hare scale: 2 out of 5 Golden Bookmarks

crossposted at Catholic Media Review

Now Back to Our Regular Programming

I hate migraines.

The old name for them were "megrims," which I think describes them a whole lot better. Because I do get pretty grim when I have one. This month I've had more of them than usual.

Modern medicine allows me to function, but there's a cost. By the evening, I am ready to sit on the sofa and be entertained by television--the fluffier, the better. Unfortunately, my family bears the brunt of my lethargy and grouchiness. So I try and pick up the slack when I'm feeling better, dealing with the stuff--like bills and budgets--that I didn't have the emotional energy to deal with when under a migraine attack.

My writing stalls. All the wonderful entries and essays I've composed in my head disappear along with any desire I might have to sit in front of a computer and type. And, in these parlous times, I'm also hesitant to write during working hours while using my work computer and their servers. Hubs is somewhat jealous of the time and attention I give to outside endeavors as well.

So output slows to a trickle.

One of my migraine triggers is changes in the weather. This year we have had cold-and-sunny, warm-and-sunny, rainy, foggy, morning-fog-and-afternoon-sun. Saturday was the 111th Big Game between Cal and Stanford and I was sitting in the stadium in my shirtsleeves. It was warm enough to wear shorts--well, until the sun went down. Today, it's rainy and looks like November. The leaves from our liquid ambar tree are all over our driveway, the sidewalk, the front yard, and the street. They're rather pretty: deep red and bright orange. But they do need to be swept. Hopefully the weather will stay this way for awhile and let my head settle down.

And I'll be able to find a moment or two to write down my thoughts.

Heebie Jeebie--The Spirits Are About to Speak!

"Are they friendly spirits?"
"Just listen!"

--Courtesy of Jay Ward and the Rocky & Bullwinkle Show

The mood seems calm around the Conservative blogsphere, with warnings of how the Right should behave towards President-Elect Obama and what the GOP needs to do to renew itself. The biggest concern is how long before the "Fairness Doctrine" reasserts itself on the radio and affects the Internet--and if there are enough Republicans and "Blue Dog" Democrats to oppose reinstating it.

Of course, there is no discussion about adding print media under the Fairness Doctrine.

Looking into my cracked and foggy crystal ball, this is what I foresee:

• The MSM, including (or especially) Print Media will give President Obama a longer than usual honeymoon for a couple of reasons. They want to appear "post-racial." They are afraid of being "kicked off the plane" or out of the press room. President-elect Obama is a Democrat and one of them. The MSM can't admit they're wrong.
• Disillusionment will begin with the Base when ordinary folks discover that as President Obama can't pay their mortgage or put gas in their car. And when they discover that, according to the Democrats, they are now "rich."
• We will rediscover that turning the Ship of State is kind of like turning the Titanic. It can be done, but it will take longer than most people think it will.
  
• The Republican Leadership will still play by the old rules, although I think some are beginning to realize the rules have changed.
• Unless the Republicans come together and work very quickly, the Democrats will hold the edge in Congress through 2012.

What do I think the message of the GOP should be in the intervening years?

• The United States is a country ruled by law--and those laws apply equally to all.
• Equality under the law does not mean equality of outcomes. Just as not everyone is capable of playing basketball (for example) at the NBA level, not everyone is capable of attending a top-tier university or being a CEO.
• We are personally and primarily responsible for ourselves and our families. Educational reform begins at home, not with the government. Opportunity exists, but ultimately we are responsible for reaching out and taking advantage of it.
  
• The United States as a country is not "wealthy." Her people are wealthy and are among the most generous people on the planet. We are generous in our private donations (as we should be) and also we have one of the highest rates of voluntary tax compliance. That will change, though, if the people feel they are being overburdened or unfairly taxed.
• We have a duty to be good stewards of the planet; however, we also need to be mindful of the unintended human consequences of our actions, whether in maintaining a pristine environment or exploiting it.

But, hey, if the Powers That Be aren't listening to bigger, braver, and more articulate bloggers, they won't listen to little ol' me.

For example: This post on Hot Air by Ed Morrissey who channels Claudia Rossett. Yeah, Liberty is a great word!

On a final note: Yesterday I was reading baldilocks, who is one of my favorite bloggers. Juliette was discussing the results of the election with her step-father, a conservative Methodist minister, and a staunch Republican. He told her, "Don't you ever go to bed at night without praying for that man." Good advice. Sometime in January, once all the hoopla and the adrenaline dies down, President Obama will be mugged by reality. I think he's going to need all the spiritual support he can get.

The Election

Damn.

Then I remember why I began fasting and praying: "Not my will, but Thy Will be done."

For some reason, it's more difficult to leave the future of my country in His Hands than it is the future of His Church. :)

I have been reading A Year with John Paul II: Daily Meditations from His Writings and Prayers (edited by Fr. Jerome Vereb). The Meditation for today, November 5, is titled "My Deepest Thoughts":

I have lately given much thought to the liberating force of suffering. It is on suffering that Christ's system rests, beginning with the cross and ending with the smallest human torment. This is the true messiad (the true source or hope of belief in a Messiah).

--Letter to Mieczyslaw Kotlarczyk, November 2, 1939

Hmmm...

I am also reading St. John of the Cross, Dark Night of the Soul: how the journey of self denial leads to perfect union with God. In Chapter V, St. John discusses the imperfections of the beginner in the matter of anger. Numbers two and three stood out for me: those who are angry with other people for their faults and who consider themselves "guardians of virtue" and those who become angry with themselves "with an impatience that is not humble...as if they would be saints in one day."

Here's the terrifying part: "There is no perfect remedy for this but in the dark night."

I don't know that I'm ready for a "dark night."

Meanwhile, Virgen de Guadalupe, pray for us and watch over this country. Open the minds and hearts of our leaders, both current and newly elected, to the Will of your Son.

Update: As usual, The Anchoress puts it all into perspective for me. :)

Dressing the Part

"Wow! You look nice. Do you always dress up this way?"

"Yes, she does."

The conversation took place in the lobby of the gym where I take an aqua aerobics class three times a week. The participants in the class are used to seeing me in a swimsuit with my hair pulled back in a pony tail, not in my usual work outfit of heels, nylons, skirt, and tailored shirt. I was really surprised that the second person had actually noticed how I dress.

"Do you have to dress this way for work?"

I never know how to answer that question. In fact, my company has a "business casual" policy, but the president of the company I worked for previously was much more traditional. So even though we technically had a "business casual" policy, the men all wore ties and most women wore suited skirts, dresses, or pantsuits. So when I came to work at my current company, I had six suits, several suits, a couple of blazers, lots of tailored shirts--and three pairs of pants.

So guess what I wear?

Besides, dressing professionally puts me in a professional frame of mind. Blame it on my upbringing: I wore a uniform to school for 12 years. Getting dressed in the morning was simple and once I put on my uniform, my brain knew what was coming. In a sense, it was--and is--kind of like dressing for a part in a play. It's much easier to act like an executive when I'm dressed like one. And I find that I am treated like one as well--my words are taken seriously.

So when I heard that the Republican National Committee spent $150,000 to outfit Gov. Palin and her family, I gasped. And then I thought, "They want her to look Presidential." And they want her family to look like they belong as well.

Shortly after I began working, John T. Molloy wrote Dress for Success and then, later, a special edition for women. I found many of his tips useful, especially since neither of my parents were executives and I looked very young. One of his tips was "Dress for the next level"--dress for where you wanted to be, not where you were, indicating that you were ready to move up the corporate ladder. My success with that has been mixed: I'm not a VP, but I've been involved in some high level projects.

Gov. Palin has a more difficult job: she has to look like she belongs in D.C. but not lose her "common touch." Her wardrobe has to reflect taste, quality, fit well, and not be ostentatious. No "obvious" labels. She has to exude self-confidence and her clothes have to show that. The Political Mavens are harsh: remember the hatchet job they did on the outfits Mrs. Roberts chose for herself and her children when Justice Roberts was sworn in? And the comments about Sen. Clinton and her choice in pantsuits? Or Barbara Bush and her pearls? Or the gown Rosalyn Carter wore to Mr. Carter's inauguration?

I hate to think how my readywear suits from Macy's and no-brand shoes would fare under close scrutiny.

And if those red peep-toe pumps are a size 8 and come up for auction, I might just have to bid on them. :)

UPDATE: On the way to BART this morning, the radio newscaster referred to a recent study that found that, in order to be successful, female politicians need to be attractive and confident while male politicians only need to be confident. (Sorry--I didn't catch the name of the institution that did this study.) The female newscaster and the male DJ both seemed surprised--after all, this is 2008!

I'm not.

I found my first job through a headhunter, who flat out told me that I would be easy to place because I was clean, neat, and reasonably attractive. My surprise must have shown on my face because she went on to clarify what she meant: I wasn't grossly obese, I didn't have any distracting moles or birthmarks or scars. The fact that I was intelligent was almost a handicap--employers would worry that I was too qualified for an entry-level job, would become bored quickly, and would leave. (This was during the Carter economy and the unemployment rate was in double digits.)

When I found myself unemployed a couple of years ago and back in the job market, Hubs suggested I dye my hair "to look younger." Gray hair makes a man look "distinguished" but makes a woman look "old." Mrs. Pelosi is a grandmother, as is Senator Feinstein--yet neither of them have a gray hair on their head. With five children, I'm sure Gov. Palin also has a few gray hairs of her own, too, artfully hidden among her highlights.

This physical double standard is a fact of life and I suspect it has roots in our biology. If so, it's going to take active effort on the part of both men and women to overcome it.

A Moment of Beauty & Tranquility

Shots like this are about the only reason I can think of to keep Daylight Savings until November. I captured this moonset as I was leaving the house for work last week.

Aaargh--Or Snatching Defeat From the Jaws of Victory

Fans of Cal Football don't ask for much: defeat USC, defeat UCLA, beat Sanford. And get us to the Rose Bowl. Under Jeff Tedford, the Bears have caught wind of the Roses, and every year have shot themselves in the foot.

Last night's game against Arizona was a case in point. Up by ten at the half, the Bears had a disastrous third quarter. Arizona scored four--yes, four!--touchdowns. And Cal couldn't come back. Even replacing Nate Longshore, who only threw one interception and actually had a pretty decent game, with Kevin Riley didn't help. I couldn't stand it and by the middle of the fourth quarter I couldn't watch the game.

Especially since I'm fasting from alcohol.

I hope God noticed. ;)

On Friday night, the kid's high school lost to their cross-town rivals as well. Hubs and I were working the snack shack, slinging hot chocolate, cup o' noodles, and nachos for 2.5 hours. So I didn't have to watch that game. But we were busy all night, so I don't think the game was too exciting.

The Bay Area pro teams? I don't think I can stand any more frustration. I have meeting minutes to write, a pig race binder to clean up before passing along, and stationery gift sets to make.

Maybe I ought to include football in my fast. :)

The Wisdom of Solomon

The Lord appeared to Solomon in a dream at night.

God said, "Ask something of me and I will give it to you."

Solomon answered:
"O Lord, my god, you have made me, your servant, king to succeed my father, David; But I am a mere youth, not knowing at all how to act. I serve you in the midst of the people whom you have chosen, a people so vast that it cannot be numbered or counted.

"Give your servant, therefore, an understanding heart to judge your people and to distinguish right from wrong. For who is able to govern this vast people of yours?"

The Lord was pleased that Solomon made this request.

So God said to him:
"Because you have asked for this--not for a long life for yourself, nor for riches, nor for the life of you enemies, but for understanding so that you may know what is right--I do as you requested. I give you a heart so wise and understanding that there has never been anyone like you up to now and after you there will come no one to equal you."

1 Kings 3: 5, 7-12

That was the first reading on Sunday, July 27. I had the privilege of proclaiming it at Mass and it struck me how appropriate--how necessary--this reading was to our country's situation.

I find it even more appropriate now.

So when The Anchoress stated she was going to pray and fast until the Election was over, I decided to join her, especially when she explained her idea of fasting was more a Lenten type fast. For me that means three small meals, no snacking, no sweets, no alcohol.

I'm tired of feeling helpless. I am praying to God and asking Our Lady of Guadalupe, one of my favorite icons of Mary, to watch over us here in America and guide us with a mother's care. (Maybe Our Lady of Perpetual Help would be more appropriate?) Like the Anchoress, I'm praying for guidance for my personal vote as well as guidance for the country. I'm leaving the results in His Hands--much like I do when the cardinals select the Pope.

I've slipped up: a s'more at Camporee, beer at my parish's Oktoberfest, cake at an Eagle Court of Honor. I have managed to avoid the fresh-baked cookies at work. :)

After Mass on Sunday, I was talking to one of my fellow parishioners. I mentioned the video at CatholicVote.com and how it would make an excellent meditation piece for a parish prayer service because of its emphasis on voting for life, for family, and for your conscience. His eyes lit up, "What a great idea! We should have a Mass of Discernment the Monday before the election. I'll talk to Father at the Parish Council meeting tomorrow night." We both agreed this wouldn't be a matter of telling people how to vote, but encouraging them to pray over their decisions and reflect on them. There are a couple of State Propositions and local issues on the ballot that are also important--it's not all about the Presidency.

I don't know if Father bought into the idea. But it's a mustard seed.

Can mustard seeds overcome ACORNS? I guess we'll find out.

(The Anchoress is also posting Compline and Vespers, for those inclined to more formal prayer and reflection.)

Feminism, Sarah Palin, and Me

I was a senior in high school when the "Second Wave" of feminism moved to the popular consciousness. I was intrigued--the Second Wave promised that all life choices a woman made would be respected: mother, homemaker, career-woman, doctor, nurse. In liberating women, the theory went, men would be freed as well: free to express their emotions, no longer bound to "male" jobs, encouraged to bond with their children. Their ideas were exciting, although in many cases what the feminists were doing was giving a new name (Consciousness-raising sessions) to an old activity (women's neighborhood social groups). I changed my career path from nursing, which I had wanted to do since I was five, to medicine--mostly because a teacher of mine pointed out, rightly, that I was much better at giving orders than following them and that if a doctor was making a mistake, I would correct him or her in front of his or her patient or colleague.

In the beginning, Feminism was all about choice. I'm not sure when abortion became the sine qua non of Feminism, but it was sometime after I was graduated from college.

I did not go to medical school, in large part because of Organic Chemistry and the fact that Boomers like myself were applying to medical schools, law schools, and other professional schools in record numbers, even without considering women applicants. In four short years, the percentage of women in professional schools, especially in the health field and in law, was about equal to that of men.

Feminists wanted more. They began to attack "The Glass Ceiling," talked about "The Mommy Track," and began to deride women who chose a more traditional lifestyle path. Men became The Enemy, and control over our bodies, which originally began as a health issue, became the right to unrestricted abortion at all times, at any age.

The Wisdom of the Crone was ignored.

I like men--they're some of my favorite people. Always have been. I married one; gave birth to two. Most of them were good guys, struggling to make a living, to do the right thing, pursuing happiness. When my arms were full of baby and baggage, when I was pushing a stroller and herding a toddler, I appreciated having doors held open for me. When I was pregnant, I was grateful for a seat on BART. A lot of the "old school" social rules began to make sense. And abortion became The Issue.

I have two daughters. As painful as it might be for me to hear they are pregnant out-of-wedlock, I still would want to know, especially if they were minors. And 12-year-olds are minors.

So Feminism and I have drifted apart. I decided I am nobody's Victim in general, although I may be in particular. I am grateful for those women who pioneered the way in business and I knew several of them in my industry. I'm also grateful for the men, especially those of my father's generation, who saw more potential in me than I saw in myself and who mentored me.

What has this to do with Sarah Palin?

I recognize her as a kindred spirit (or as Anne of Green Gables might say, "a member of the race of Joseph"). She is "one of the guys" while wearing a skirt and heels. She's the kind of person you want on your task force at work or your committee on the PTA: give her a goal and she'll get the job done. No excuses. No endless "discussion." No subcommittees and study groups. Just "here's the problem, let's try this to solve it."

A woman equally comfortable in a skirted suit and makeup or jeans and a flannel shirt. Yeah, I relate. Big time. :)

Her husband seems to be loving and supportive, equally at ease working in the oil field and holding a baby. Okay--he's had plenty of practice with that last one before appearing in front of a national audience. He might not have been so comfortable when first holding Track. The Palins seem to be the Feminist Ideal Couple: true equals.

So while I expected some outcry about her--that she was a "stunt" by the Republicans, that she was a Conservative--I didn't expect the outright venom. I thought that the furor would die down after a few weeks, and it has, but the attacks are still intense.

The night of the Vice-Presidential Debates, I overheard the following conversation on the way home:

"Are you going to watch the Debates?"

"Yes! I can't wait to see her fall on her ass!"

The last sentence was from a woman, who uttered it with absolute glee in her voice. I was stunned. I wanted Gov. Palin to do well, I wanted her to do better than Sen. Biden, but I didn't want him to "fall on his ass." What is wrong with these people? It's not enough for their candidate to win; the other candidate must be humiliated?

And lies, vicious lies, must be spread about her and her family? I thought we were moving towards a "more enlightened" civilization.

Apparently, some choices are more Womanly than others. Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton must be spinning in their graves. And I am happy to join Gov. Palin in the ranks of those humans with XX chromosomes who are not "really a woman." (Though Hubs may beg to differ.)

Postscript: I read part of Maureen Dowd's column on Gov. Palin's acceptance speech. Ms. Dowd noted Gov. Palin's red peep-toe pumps and commented on her pedicure. Where the heck was Ms. Dowd sitting that she could tell the color of the polish?

In Honor of the VP Debates Tonight

And to show solidarity with my preferred candidate, I am wearing my red pumps to work (Step-Ups by Dr. Scholl's).

Of course, this is a much better picture, but in brown:

Remembering Ezra Aviles

He was my assignment for the 2996 Project, honoring those who perished in the attacks on 9/11. My post is here.

Michelle Malkin remembers as well.

September 11, 2001

I turn on the TV and watch as the plane slowly flies into the Tower.
Hail Mary, full of grace,
My daughter wanders downstairs, shoes in hand, turns to look at what has me transfixed on a weekday morning.
The Lord is with thee.
“Where is that, Mommy?” she asks.
Blessed are you among women
“New York,” I answer. She nods. The name is familiar, like Venus. Like Mars.
And blessed is the fruit of thy womb,
“Do we know anyone there?” Her eyes are blue and full of innocent concern.
Jesus
“No,” I answer, thinking of friends, family, business associates, safe here.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
She has seen the green glass tower where I work, tucked amongst taller buildings.
Pray for us sinners,
But a skyscraper in one city looks much like the next.
Now
“Where’s the tallest building in the United States?”
And at the hour of our death,
“Chicago.”
Amen.
My daughter looks relieved.

--written November 9, 2001