A Stimulus Package of my own!

Writing and kids just go together, don't you think? For me, working with kids of all ages has been a learning experience like no other. You never know what you're going to get from day to day. The child that's cute and lovable one day is the kid from Daddy Does Daycare, the next. And guess what? I don't blame them. Every honest adult can tell you it's not the same world we grew up in. Today's little ones are expected to know what they want to do with the rest of their lives, which college they plan to attend, what trade they plan to pursue before they've even mastered the school bus route. We push them into algebra in the fourth grade and expect them to read fluently what they won't be able to understand for years to come. They are expected to keep their noses clean long before they've even learned how to wipe their little backsides with pin-point accuracy.

You ought to know that this generation of children file into schools who are proud of their "zero tolerance" policies which incarcerate kindergartners for forgetting that hugging one another is against the rules, and using your finger to play cops and robbers at recess is a capitol offense.

Oh, and let's not forget the fact that every outdoor game and sport ever played at recess has been banned by all-knowing administrators and legislators trying to "protect" our children from themselves. And we wonder why obesity is an epidemic?

It brings to mind the title of an old, well-loved song, "Bless the Beasts and the Children," only in today's world, the beasts are getting the better part of the deal.

Of writers and stunt dummies

I'm coming back to life. Okay, I was never really dead, but it's been a year since I have blogged, and I'm a little rusty. Sometimes it's all you can do to wake up each day and push through the stuff that makes life interesting. Writing about it would be like asking a stunt dummy to re-enact a particularly painful action scene after it's already in the can. So I'll just start where I am and go from here. You gotta love the cycles of life, don't you? There's something very reassuring about seasons, about blossoms showing through the last snow of winter. Spring is within reach. Yeah, I'm coming back to life.

taxes

Reckoning with the IRS is tough enough when it's your own hard-earned pay being siphoned, but watching your college-bound, part-time working, full-time student come to terms with what the government has taken from him really stinks. If I was tempted to become an activist, and I'm not- mostly because I'm just too tired- I would seriously consider protesting the federal income tax. Oh, there are lots of taxes to get upset about, sales tax, property tax, etc. but there's something innately wrong about skimming a person's wages, no matter who you are and what your motives are. Income taxes were the first big step away from the free-market system and I'm not sure if we'll ever make it back to that place where we're truly free to make a living without government interference.
Love, Lori

The sad thing is that I'll look back on this day and wish that I could go back to the good old fifties. Yep. I know this because I now look back on the day I turned forty. Aging is a strange and uncomfortable phenomenon. As facial features, and everything else for that matter begins to droop south,you gotta wonder what the end result will look like. Not a very pretty picture I'm afraid. That said, I would not go back, even if I could. Nothing like old wounds to remind you that the wars you've successfully battled are better left in the past. So, come what may, I'm going down this road, and I'm blessed to be taking each step with the man of my dreams by my side.
Love, Lori

Birthday dinners at the house. So chaotic but so much fun. I love to see my grown children having fun with each other. There's something very satisfying about knowing they still like each other after all their growing up years. I think they bonded while facing their common nemesis...me. Not to sound like a martyr or anything, but let's be honest about a few things. Like it or not, when you're a kid, your mother is not always your best friend. She can say "no" faster than you can ask "why." She can put a damper on your best ideas before you can even get that match lit. Somehow my children survived their overly controlling, often hysterical, not always very much fun mother. I'm glad they have comrades-in-arms and plenty of war stories to share between them.
Love, Lori

If grandchildren were hot, new technological inventions, they'd be selling like hotcakes. Think about it. Each is a mini entertainment center, individually packaged, entirely unique and programmable. (I taught mine to tell me they love me) They are kissable, cuddly and hand-washable, and after a long day at home or at the park, you can give them back to their parents to be serviced and recharged. Then, on a downer day, when no one else wants to hear what you have to say, you can put them on your lap, nuzzle their warm little necks and whisper in their ears. They will giggle and squirm and beg for more. Seriously, I wish I owned the patten.
Love, Lori

My husband thinks I'm addicted. Personally, I think it's reasonable behavior. For the last nine years I have been looking over my shoulder, literally, at the television. I don't watch just any old thing. I watch news. I need news. No, not like a drunk needs a drink, but more like a driver needs a steering wheel. I have a sneaking suspicion that when I'm not watching, something big is going down without me. Like the twin towers. Like the pentagon. I don't think I've been traumatized or even terrorized like those in New York and D.C no doubt were, but I have been awakened, and I don't think I'll ever sleep quite as deeply again. So, when an eye-opening election rocks the political world, when a dirty deal is struck behind closed doors in the White House, when the price of food or gas soars or takes a dive, I want to know who's in control of the airplane, and where it's going to land. Yeah, I think I'll just keep my eye on that tube. Love, Lori