A Visit to the Dentist in Morocco

A while before this trip, I lost a filling in one of my molars. I know, I know...I should have gone right away to get it fixed, but it wasn't bothering me (much), and I was so busy with trying to get my school work and work work under control before my vacation, I just didn't make the time.

A few days ago, this molar started to reallllly hurt. I was soaking cotton in Oragel and packing the hole and consuming tylenol like candy to just tolerate the pain. What to do? I am in a foreign country, after all....no Delta Dental here!

The pain was so bad this morning that my ear was even throbbing...so I finally mentioned the pain to Samir. Well, I really mentioned it because his mom kept asking why I was so pale and quiet.

His parents insisted Samir take me to the dentist right away. I resisted, not knowing the cost without insurance. I also confess I was worried about the quality of the care I would receive, and my inability to express what I needed in Arabic or French. Samir promised to stay with me, so I finally gave in and we went.

Unfortunately, we (shouldn't Samir have known this??) forgot that the city essentially closes down between noon and 3 pm, in order for families to have their large meal of the day together. When we went to the office at 12:30, it was closed. Back home we went, where I took a nap with some pharmeceutical assistance.

We returned to the office at 3, and rang the doorbell (yes, you ring a bell to get into most offices here). A girl with a sweet smile answered the door and welcomed us inside like it was her home. Samir explained my dilemma, and she ushered me into the Doctor's office. RIGHT AWAY!

Samir again axplained to the dentist, and he led me to the exam chair. The nice girl was also the assistant, and she began to drape me with the paper bibs. No X-rays....the dentist used his eyes and a mirror to see the problem.

May I impress upon you the feeling of terror I felt at this moment? Samir, the assistant, and the dentist were conversing away in Arabic. Some familiar dental procedures are occurring...but some are not. Some of the office equipment looks like stuff I recognize...but other things seem to be absent. I still didn't know how much this was going to cost, either.

Samir kept explaining to me in monosyllables what was going on, but not near enough to suit me or to soothe my haywire nerves. Samir seemed comfortable, and was nodding understanding at the dentist.....so, I just lay back in the chair and opened my mouth. Talk about Trust with a capital "T!" Well, that and desperation to have the pain just end.

So...The Dentist suddenly had that big Novocaine needle in his hand. Ummm...isn't he supposed to numb my mouth with some topical analgesic first??? Ack! Nope, apparently not. My whole body tensed, as I am well aware that huge needle hurts like mad, even with the topical numbing agents applied by U.S. dentists.

But...No? No pain? At all???? He inserted the needle over and over. I could feel pressure just like always, so I knew he was hitting all the same spots. However, without even one twinge of pain! Amazing....

Then, the assistant had me rinse out my mouth (none of those hoses forcing water and sucking air from my mouth, here). I was completely numb. Ahhhhh....sweet relief!

The Dentist then started drilling, and I rinsed and spit once in a while. No. Pain. At. All.

He drained a small abcess (He told Samir that if he'd known there was an abcess, he wouldn't have begun the procedure. However, he would finish now that he'd begun.), packed it with medicine, and put a temporary filling in. I am to return Saturday morning for the permanent filling.

The assistant then went out to the reception area for us to pay. The cost was about 274 Moroccan dirhams---which is $35 U.S.!!! And that is it. No more money is due on Saturday! Can you believe that???

I was there in the office for about a half hour, and my pain is gone. Completely. I don't even have those after-twinges of pain I always have at home. Amazing.

Score one for THIS country's Government-Sponsored Health Care program! So glad they even treat foreigners....

Henna

Having Henna applied is a tradition usually performed prior to one's wedding day. As we were not married in Morocco, Lalla Fatima missed out on this ceremony. So...here we are! Note my new gold given to me as the henna was applied...gorgeous stuff, but I don't know how I will dare wear it in my "real" life. Bling times a zillion!!!


The process took hours and hours. My backside lost all feeling eventually, in spite of the piles of cusions I was given. I was treated like a precious, fragile, pampered Queen all day, too. Samir was even forced to hand-feed me! Bahahaha!!! A girl could get used to this treatment...

Once the henna was all applied and dried to a tacky consistency, they applied a mixture of water, sugar, and black pepper with cotton. After that air-dried, my hands and feet were covered in cotton and silk stockings over the top of that.

24 hours later......

All finished! The designs turned out very dark...tradition holds that the darker the designs turn out, the more one is loved by her husband.

Samir must loooooooove me!

More of A Day of Sightseeing

Moulay La Chat

A couple hundred years ago (although people here discuss events in time as though they are recent happenings, rather than ancient events), a man died leaving his entire estate to his cats. To this day, only cats live here at the Moulay La Chat, although residents of Rabat are welcomed by the cats on a daily basis to relax with them in their garden (and bring them food).

Sprite and Moroccan bread are served while we await our lunch of barbecue.

Beautiful decor within the cafe...although, one wonders why the aquarium holds no fish...

The cafe is built right into the Rabat city wall.

A Day of Sightseeing

The City of Rabat

A typical busy day within the city walls of Rabat. Shops and vendors of all types are on both sides of the narrow streets, and people are everywhere.


The Mosque in Rabat is built right into the city walls. The men are leaving after the midday prayer time.

Outside the "Sunday Gate" of Rabat; so named because, traditionally, mobile souks (compared to a farmer's market) were set up in front of different cities and their gates on certain days of the week.

Uncle Mustapha walking into the Sunday Gate of the City of Rabat.

This apartment building located just outside the city walls of Rabat is where Samir lived the first few years of his life. The second floor from the top was his family's flat.

The Marjane, a chain of WalMart-type stores, is the first of its kind in Morocco.

The City of Sale

This gate is called the Sale Harbor, because the river used to flow right up to the city of Sale centuries ago.

The main city wall of Sale (meaning "Salt," and pronounced Sall-A).

A Trip To the Beach

The neighborhood facing the beach in Kenitra is a picturesque jumble of homes and cafes.

My first Moroccan trip to an African Cafe. Steamed milk is served in the china cup, with three lumps of sugar and a cup of strong espresso on the side. One adds sugar and espresso to taste. Yummmmmm....

Samir making a phone call to a friend as we enjoy our coffee (his Sprite) in the cafe overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.

My first touch of the Atlantic. So warm!!!

My nameless dromedary friend. To ride him cost 20 dirhams (about $2 U.S.).

Morning Time

It is very difficult for me to know when to get up in the morning, and not simply because of the 7 hour time difference from California, either.

My bedroom is in a separate part of the house, and the windows in my in-law's home all have these amazing wooden shutters that block out all the light and sound from outside when they are closed. From the level of light and sound in the room with me, it could be 2 AM or noon. Flip a coin.

Another issue I am having is the extreme level of comfort....seriously, this bed makes me feel as if I never want to wake up! The mattress is firm, yet it wraps itself around me like a full body smooshy hug. The sheets are heavy cotton, and must have a thread count of like a billion!! All of the bedding has been washed by hand on a scrub board with this amazing smelling soap (I have got to bring some soap home!), and dried outside on the roof-patio. Don't even get me started on the pillows...suffice it to say I feel like I've died and actually made it to Heaven when I am snuggled in my bed here!

Once I do wake up, I make my toilette (No, not TMI---this simply means I wash my face, comb my hair, get dressed, put on light make-up, ect...), and then head to the kitchen for pastry with a hazelnut-chocolate spread (way better than Nutella), eggs, cheese, fruit, and coffee.

May I tell you about the coffee in Morocco. Oh. My. God. I will actually give up Starbuck's for this stuff!!!!!! I am bringing the beans, orange blossom water, cinnamon (it is actually the cinnamon tree bark; I have never seen this type before), sugar (yes, very different from American sugar), and the pot to make it in home with me. Come on over when I return and try some!

After breakfast, I try to help clean up. I am scolded and sent away. Especially today; Friday is the day Lalla Fatima has a maid come in to clean and do the laundry. I feel awkward with both of them rushing around cleaning. I tried to pick up a dust rag, and I was practically pushed onto the couch by these two tiny women and given my laptop. LOL...OK, so here I sit.

Samir telephoned the airport this morning. It seems 2 of our 3 bags have made it. One large bag is mine, and two smaller ones are Samir's. I do hope one of the bags are mine (I'm selfish like that after a few days). Samir and Uncle Mustapha have gone to Casablanca (2 hour drive, one way) to pick them up.

I realllly want my own clothes....

Shopping in the Souk

Twice a day, we go to the Souk (a market-bazaar: like those shops near Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco, just built into the wall with a huge door to pull down and lock at the close of the business day) to buy what is needed for the next meal. One stop for vegetables, one for fruit, one for bread, and yet another for meat.

Yesterday, Lalla Fatima (my mother-in-law) and I walked to some little shops in the neighborhood. Today, Uncle Mustapha (my father-in-law) drove us to a larger Souk area because I needed to buy some wardrobe essentials (still no baggage...).

I was so brave!!!! I didn't gasp in terror during the drive at all...ok, maybe just once. Or twice. But, seriously, that's it! And, when we zig-zagged across the street after parking the car (no space to park? No problem! Just pull up on the sidewalk! There ya go!), I simply stared straight ahead and gripped Lalla Fatima's hand, trusting her to guide us away from certain death.

Walking down the street (one where cars, thankfully, do not fit- just watch out for careening bicyclers) I experienced a kalaidascope of sounds, colors, and the smells of spices and herbs. Everyone was smiling and greeting one another with kisses. Men, women, children, cats, dogs...LIFE, you know? I said to Uncle Mustapha, "I smell mint, and...what is that other smell?"

He replied, "Absinthe, also for tea." Absinthe??? Like as in The Green Fairy Absinthe???? He laughed, "Oh, you know absinthe, hm? They do not have absinthe in the U.S., correct? This is not the liquor, just the herb. Would you like to try?"

Do Fairies have wings???? Yes Yes YES!! Yummo! It tastes kinda like anise (licorice). No, I have not hallucinated. More's the pity. lol...

We went to another stall, where I made my purchases. A bag full of undergarments for less than $10 US!!! Amazing...and the quality of the items are very high. I would have spent more than $50 at home for similar items...and I am sure the American salesperson would not have hugged me and kissed both my cheeks before I left my local Macy's!

We stopped for some other items: A new djellaba of blue silk with white embroidery...a beautiful green pashmina...some bread...some beef and apples...and home for lunch and a nap.

Lovely.

Mes vacances vers le Maroc - entrée 1 de journal intime

My Vacation to Morocco - Diary Entry 1

The Journey

I have arrived in Morocco...I am still experiencing the effects of jet lag, but let me begin to record my travel experiences.

Our flight left from Sacramento at 6:30 AM PST. The flight to Atlanta was a little rough, and there was some concern that the flight from ATL to Barcelona might be delayed due to the storms in the southern US. In fact, as we were sitting in the waiting area, HLN was on the TV stating "Atlanta Underwater!" Luckily, during our 3 hour layover the thunder and lightning stopped and the rain grew light, so we took off only about 1/2 hour late, at about 6:30 PM EST.

The trans-atlantic flight was uneventful, and took just over 9 hours. I was rather disappointed it was dark, as I wanted to have my first glimpse of the Atlantic ocean. The plane was only about 3/4 full, so Samir and I were able to share a row of 3 seats alone, and took alternating cat naps in each other's laps.

The service on Delta/AirFrance was warmly exceptional. Every few hours we were served snacks (biscotti, pretzels, fruit, etc...) or a meal (Dinner: teriyaki chicken, rice, carrots, and a roll; Breakfast: Egg and cheese on an English muffin, fruit), and given soda/water/coffee/tea upon request. We had 4 pillows and 6 blankets!

The best part of this leg of our journey was our individual televisions installed in the seats before us. The headphones provided by the airline were poor, but the ones we brought from home worked beautifully. I watched 2 movies- The Hangover (hilarious!) and Sunshine Cleaning Company (tragically funny). I also watched several episodes of Will & Grace, Friends, The United States of Tara, and a fascinating documentary on Global Warming. It was lovely to be able to choose whatever I wanted to watch, and there were many, many choices.

Upon arrival in Barcelona, things became confusing. Because of our slight delay, we had only an hour to find our connecting flight. The airport is a bit old, and a little dingy. We could not find anyone who would help us very much, and all the signs were in Spanish. We both speak a little Spanish, Samir much more so than I. However, you could tell they knew we were not Spanish, and they thought we were silly and/or stupid. Really made me feel aware of how it feels to be a stranger in a strange land. Food for thought....and fuel for compassion.

At any rate, I am a happy happy girl, because as we went through the gates between the arrival and departure areas, my passport received its very first stamp!!!!

Somehow, with our barely literate Spanish, we followed signs and we found our gate on time to make it onto the airplane for our 1- 1/2 hour flight to Paris/Charles de Gaulle Aeroport. Whew!

Upon arrival in France (yes, you are reading this correctly...in our endeavor to save some money, we went through Barcelona, Spain (nearly next door to Morocco), THEN went North to France, and THEN back south to Morocco. Rookie mistake; and one that will not be repeated. Added hours to the trip...hours NOT worth $600.), things were easier, as Samir is most comfortable with the French language. I, however, am not...so I clung to him! The people were very very sweet, and I will be forever grateful to the nice woman who helped me to order my mochaccino, and count my Euros to pay.

Our layover in Paris was about 2 hours (I acquired passport stamp number two!), and we spent them people watching. Everyone is so chic and fascinating! We were both exhausted, and I was getting on Samir's nerves a bit making comments about the people we saw. Sometimes you just need a girl to be snarky with, and he just wasn't getting it! Sigh...

Finally, it was time to board the plane for the final leg of our journey....after we rode a sloooooowwwww shuttle bus across the tarmac, standing crowded bum-to-elbow with about a zillion of our fellow travellers. Again, I was glad Samir is so thoroughly literate in French-I would have been positively panic-stricken when we walked through the airport gate, down the stairs, crammed into a bus, and driven around what appeared to be a circle for 15 minutes...only to then inexplicably wait inside the bus (sans air conditioning) with the doors closed for another 15 minutes or so, before the doors whooshed open and we climbed up 3 flights of stairs to the entrance of our plane. I felt as if I were on the way to Auschwich or somewhere equally terrifying...

This was a beautiful flight: I could see the Atlantic Ocean, the impossibly blue Mediterranean Sea, and the cities and farms of France and Spain. We enjoyed a lunch of cold chicken, polenta, salad, brie cheese, crackers, baguettes, and a wonderful little apple/cranberry tart. We flew over Gibralter, and then I saw the coast of Africa below me! Amazing....and to think, it was 4 PM in Africa - yet it was only 10 AM home in California.

Casablanca/Mohamed V Aeroport. We went through immigration (another Stamp-Yay me!!), about an hour-long process. I have no idea what transpired, as Samir handled the conversation in Arabic. I was only the giver and recipient of many nods, smiles, and deferential bows.

Then, we walked into the baggage claim area, where about 10 men with carts raced each other to offer us assistance. Samir chose one man with a nice smile, and off we went to the baggage carousel...where our three bags were NOT found. Seriously.

It seems our luggage stayed behind in Gay Paree. Nice. Luckily, we each had brought a carry-on with essentials: a change of underwear, shirts, and pajamas, some meds, and the bare minimum of toiletries (including my makeup and curling iron-WHEW!). Also, our laptops (one for us, one a gift for his dad), camera, and a few books for me.

Then we proceded outside to find Samir's parents. The weather was breezy and cool (think a warm summer evening near the beach in San Diego). His parents grabbed us in hugs and kisses, and Mama held my hand in the car the whole two hour drive to Kenitra.

The drive was exciting, to say the least!!! The posted speed limit in most places seemed to be 120 km...that's roughly 76 mph!!! Imagine how fast we were traveling....I mean, do YOU drive more than the posted speed limit? Whoosh-Zoom! The highway was busy, no one on the road was wearing seatbelts (except me!), and the painted lanes on the road appeared to be merely suggestions; and suggestions not religeously taken, I might add. People on foot and on bicycles and mopeds criss-crossed and went along side the road at random. Surreal! Think: Mr. Toad's Wild Ride come to life!

And, yet, nobody is nervous in the least! No one but me and my white knuckles, that is...lol

More next time...I am going to sleep now, hoping that our luggage arrives tomorrow.

MBA 2010 Grads...Watch Out World: Here We COME!

Ok, I grant that I am rather cranky this week.

However, I have to wonder how on earth this person made it into my MBA program. She writes terrible, has very little common sense, is extremely biased against anyone different from her, doesn’t grasp basic business concepts, and works as an in-home child care provider and Mary Kaye salesperson. Her youngest child is in her 20’s, so this is not a young person.

Here’s the deal. We are required to post eight times per week in the online forum with posts that are at the Master’s student level. The posts should be substantive, researched, and either introduce a new line of thought or expand another student’s thoughts.

She posts about a billion random, nonsensical posts a week. I have been on her learning team in another class (after the first experience, I request to be moved to another group if we are placed together), and she posts another billion items to team forum chats---PLUS, she wants to have conference calls and IM meetings. Even when there is no team project due that week.

I will now post a portion of a thread which includes our Professor, The Dink, and me, because my own words cannot possibly explain my frustration well enough. (Please note: No spelling, grammar, punctuation, or word choices have been changed to protect the innocent.)


Dr. Lentz:

Good morning all. Please feel free to share your favorite leadership quotes as we continue throughout this course. See if we can also tie in what aspect of leadership the quote may be referring to. Happy thinking!

“Whatever course you decide upon, there is always someone to tell you that you are wrong. There are always difficulties arising which tempt you to believe that your critics are right. To map out a course of action and follow it to an end requires courage.” Ralph Waldo Emerson quote


The leadership theory at work here is the behavioral trait theory--where action is required to demonstrate intent. We could also think of the personality assessment possessed by this author. Thoughts?


The Dink:

Golden Rule LeadershipDo to other that you want done to you. The Golden Rule is one of the world's oldest and best-known philosophies, yet it is freqently overlooked in business circles.

Mary Kay demonstrate that this rule is still powerful in today's compicated world.

This quote applies to ethical and moral business management which we have studied in class this six weeks. (Meircee’s note: We just finished our 3rd week of class…how’d she get on week 6 already?)

Reference: Ash, M., K.,(2008). The Mary Kay way; timeless principles from America's greatest woman entrepreneur. Hoboken,New Jersey: John Wiley & Sons, Inc. (Meircee’s note: OK, this reference is formatted incorrectly. However, my bigger concern here is her source…MK, really?)

Meircee:

The real problem in society in regards to the Golden Rule is everyone is afraid the other guy will get him if he doesn't strike first and harder. We tend to assume the worst until better is proven. We don't let the other car pull in front of us because that might slow us down a tenth of a second.

On the other hand, George Bernard Shaw argued against the wisdom of always invoking the Golden Rule: "Do not do unto others as you would expect they should do unto you. Their tastes may not be the same."

He meant that one should be aware of what others consider best for themselves; what is best for ME might not be best for someone else. There is really no such thing as one-size-fits-all, is there?

Dr. Lentz:

Excellent Meircee. There are two points to delve further on--one is the expectation of cynicism. Because of experience, some of it less than stellar, we become quite cynical don't we? There then becomes this 'eat or get eaten' mentality that simply feeds on itself and takes on a life of its own. Admittedly, I have to guard against being far more jaded than I would like to be. We remember the sting of past situations and begin to take on a more self preservation attitude.

The best defense against this is the "I am not your last boss" mentality. I like to tell my students when possible that I am not their last professor and they are not my last students. The hope is that we can start out fresh without paying for the sins of our former experiences. It is human nature however that this tends to surface.

(2) The second point is this idea of subjectivity and the fact that one size does NOT fit all. This is where the color gray fits into our schema where many things are subjective: rewards, job satisfaction, ethics, respectful behavior (or not) and the list goes on. A good technique with this is elegantly simply--to ask those that you work with. Many conflicts particularly based in misperceptions can be avoided to simply make sure that everyone is on the same page. Send out a survey, have a coffee with your staff or boss (es) and ask about these subjective areas. Most people prefer to know where they stand as there is a great deal of energy expended in trying to figure out what others want or need. Why waste so much time and energy guessing? A simple direct question can often put everyone (back?) on the same page IF someone has the courage to simply clarify.

Great points for us to ponder this Tuesday morning. Cheers!

The Dink:

George Bernard Shaw takes the meaning of the Golden Rule a along a way---away from its simple meaning. (Meircee’s note: Is she really insulting Shaw???)

Its simply mean treat people with care or be kind too people. There is no taste or judgement in just being plain-o (Meircee’s note: WTF is plain-o?!) nice to someone. There is nothing about agreement---- to being kind.

OK, so maybe I am just cranky. But I don't think so. However, I think I’ll wait a day or two before I rejoin this thread….

Furlough Friday

So...we were paid last week. At just under 15% under what it should be.

Talk about sticker shock....I knew what the amount would be: I am an accountant, after all. But, when I finally opened my direct deposit stub a few days after payday, I was still amazed.

10% was tightening our belts....15% is like amputation...

I'm FINE!!

OK....I have to say it. Yes, my husband and his family are Muslim. This means they believe Muhammad was a great prophet. They also believe Jesus was a prophet, who died and rose again, and there is only One God, Allah, Jehovah, Yahweh, or whatever name someone wants to use as a title for the Creator of the universe. They believe in the words of the Old Testament, and much of the new...but in the Koran, they have interpreted these words to suit their purposes....JUST LIKE EVERY RELIGION DOES. The difference being, real every-day Muslims really don't think Christians are wrong, just that they have their own path. The real problem for the vast majority of the world's Muslims? Muslims want to be left alone to live their own life in peace. They don't want to convert you, they respect your right to find God your own way.

Yes, it is true that all religions have their crazies....from Jim Jones, to abortion doctor killers, and up to and including Muslims. I've met more than my share of Christian nuts, too. The media loves to focus on crazy Muslims, too.

The thing is....the crazy Muslims? They don't care really about the religion and the conversion of the world to Islam. Because, as I am sure you know, the very word, "Islam" means "Peace!!!"

There are actually more Muslims in the world than there are Christians (go ahead: Google it. I'll wait). How many different denominations does Christianity have? So....doesn't logic follow that Muslims would have their own "denominations?"

Muslims are human....I know: That shocks many of you, huh....so, just like Christian-American humans, the majority of believers only go to Mosque on Friday (think: Sunday)---or even just on holidays---and kind of live differently the rest of the time.

SO, when I go to visit Morocco in September, I will not wear a veil, I will wear jeans and a t-shirt to match my Mother-in-Law when we shop, nobody will make me pray 5 times a day (nor am I likely to see many who do)....and Morocco is NOT EVEN ON THE SAME CONTINENT AS THAT STUPID LIFETIME MOVE WAS SET!!!!!!

Women DO have rights, and it's only the very wealthy that are privileged enough to live sheltered in their homes while the men do all the shopping, driving, and outside work. The woman actually don't want to run errands, believe it or not....lol...Gosh, weird, huh? Who would want to just stay home and lay around eating snacks and playing with the kids, and never have to go to the store, the bank, work....sounds positively vile! How cruel!

Anyway, thanks for your concern, but that Post Secret postcard above could have been sent in by me.....

Happy Birthday Samir!

On Saturday, July 16, 2005, I saw him watching me from across a crowded room. Electricity flew through me. We danced, I looked into his eyes, and I fell in love.

Just like that.

And I still feel just as head over heels, if not more so, today.

Before I met Samir, I seriously thought there was something wrong with me, that I couldn't stay happy in a relationship with a man for longer than a year. My mom said I put men out like recycling!

I "joked" that I was cursed with being a "serial monogamist."

Apparently, I just needed to meet the right man. One that has truly become my friend- we laugh, we argue, we work together, sometimes we can even finish each other's sentences! We accept and repect each other's differences-yeah, sometimes after a boistrous "discussion," but, at the end, we always admire the strength and thoughtful decisions of the other.

We don't try to overshadow one another, to change each other....we also don't hesitate to point out the mistakes of each other. Not harshly, but because we want each other to succeed.

He makes me a better person. I trust him with my life- with my children's life.

And, on top of all that, he's so sexy to me that he makes my toes curl! Seriously, I still get butterflies when I am about to see him after a long day of work.

And, don't get me started on how yummy he smells!

Happy Birthday, Sweetie...and forever doesn't seem long enough.

Furlough Friday

'nuff said.

Furlough Friday

Happy Furlough Friday!

For this week's episode of Furlough Friday, I thought you might enjoy reading a quote from Our Governor in an article that ran just after his second (yes-I said second! Who voted for him a second time???? THOSE are the people who should be furloughed...) inauguration.

"The governor harkened back to the dismal year he had in 2005 when his clash with the state's public employee unions cut his approval rating in half and led to a trouncing at the polls during his special election. Using a religious metaphor, he said the debacle had awakened him to a new way of doing business.

"Like Paul on the road to Damascus, I had an experience that opened my eyes," he said to laughter among the crowd. 'And what was it that I saw? I saw that people, not just in California, but across the nation, were hungry for a new kind of politics, a politics that looks beyond the old labels, the old ways, the old arguments.' "

New? His current plan is new compared to 2005, how?

Want to read the whole article?

http://cbs5.com/politics/governor.arnold.schwarzenegger.2.451125.html

Enjoy your day....but don't go spending money! Let the state feel a day without the state worker.

You Gotta Eat the Soup

People are always complementing me on my outfits. They ask, "Where'd you find that sweater?" or, "Those shose are fabulous!" 99.9% of the time I tell them, "Thanks-I went shopping in my mom's closet!"

It's true; my mom has awesome clothes. They are high quality, in style (but classic), and beautiful. She wears them for a bit, then gives them to me. Perfect! I am so lucky!!!!!

But, there is a cost to this unbelievable benefit. You gotta eat the soup.

What's the soup? The soup is the collection of advice and opinion I have to consume when accepting the fabulous clothes.

My mom loves me, and I love her. It's just that she's still waiting for me to grow up and become her vision for me. Never mind that I am just on the sunny side of 40, and pretty much grown. She's still hoping.

Most recently, the soup du jour was literally soup. You see, she's worried about my weight; and did I know that if I ate only homemade soup for a month I could lose so much weight? In fact, she just bought a soup making machine, and she's going to make the soup for me and bring it over.

Did I mention my weight? Did I ask for soup? No, and no.

When I told my husband she had called and told me to "come shopping in her closet today," but that I wasn't sure if I wanted to deal with the soup conversation anymore or not, he said I would go.

Because, he said, "If you want the clothes, you gotta eat the soup."

He was so right. Going to go and try my 3 bags of gorgeous clothes on now.

Furlough Friday

I'm not sure how this works...but somehow, drastically reducing the income of almost 244,000 working, tax paying, Californians will fix the state's financial crisis. Logic be damned, we're happy to take one for the team, and glad the rest of you will be fine.

Never mind that we are making less and paying less taxes.

Forget that we can't afford to shop, dine out, have our cars serviced, our lawns mowed, our fences built, keep paying for cable service, or go on vacation. No day care providers are affected by us working 3 days (perhaps 4 next month!) less per month. Oh, and I'm sure the mortgage and consumer credit companies don't mind, either...we can issue them IOUs, right?

I did mention that there are more than 244,000 of us, didn't I?

And so, in my patriotic fervor and steadfast belief in our Able Leader, this blog will be dedicated on all Furlough Fridays to the Governor of the Great State of California, Arnold Schwarzenegger. Heil! Er...I mean, Hurray!

Welcome

You know what I'm talking about: the want ad gives you the title of the job along with a couple vague, obvious descriptions of daily work. You circle the ad, thinking, "Oh, that looks like a fun job! Just what I want to do!"

Then, you read the sneaky punch line: "...and other duties as required."

The first few times this happened in my life, I shrugged it off. "Scooping ice cream at Baskin-Robbins?? Fun!" But, then came the insidious "other duties," like cleaning the oogie drains in the floor, or scraping your forearms all to shreds on the rims of those tubs of ice cream as you scoop. Not so fun.

Selling clothing? With commission? And an employee discount??? I'll take the job! You guessed it: those "other duties" even ruined that. I mean, shouldn't they have warned me I would have to help naked old ladies in the fitting rooms (my eyes! my eyes!), or reset an entire sales floor while wearing a wool suit and heels?

Don't get me started on the other duties hidden in the contract for being a wife and mother...

Ok; so you get the idea.

As my life has continued, I have learned to be much more wary of those 5 little words hiding in the fine print. But, as you'll discover if you continue to follow this blog, not wary enough.

Not nearly.