Anti-Politics Rant 1

Coming up on another election, and those running for office seem particularly stupid this time. Everybody hates mud-slinging ads, and yet, that's all we ever get: "A is going to raise taxes!" / "I'm not going to raise taxes! B's going to! Plus, he gave himself 87 raises in the last two years!" / "A voted himself a raise that doubles his salary! And he was seen drunk!" / "Enough of this mud-slinging; let's discuss the issues. B's going to end social security benefits!"

It's impossible to tell the grain from the chaff, and all anybody can do in such a dearth of information is vote along party lines. That's fine for the followers who feel they must belong to a party, but what about those of us who actually try to determine who they think would be the better choice?

What we need is somebody who could study the records and put out a factual, unbiased report on what the politicians HAVE done in the past. Did C vote to privatize social security? Did D sell his vote on this bill for a big pork-barrel addition that doesn't benefit anybody? That would at least give the voter some information on which to base his decision.

But who would do it? The average person can't spend the required time to do that much research; they have a job and family. My initial thought was that it was a job for the news media, but they seem to have abdicated that responsibility. The only thing they seem to be interested in doing is asking such questions as, "How does this faux pas affect this candidate's ability to win the election?

So, it seems impossible for the average voter to get any real information on the candidates, and yet, they are expected to choose one, even though all the candidates act like idiots. I'm beginning to think only idiots run for office. Do I really want idiots representing me?

What choice do I have?

Oct Road Trip Part 2

Okay, so there I was in Colorado, where I had a cozy chat with friends from long ago. Eventually, I had to start home.

I never did find a place in that small town to get a decent breakfast. The hotel offered donuts, but I have to watch my blood sugar, so that wasn't a good option. All the restaurants I saw were either fast food without a breakfast menu or associated with a bar and not open until 11 AM. I pulled out of town at 7:30 AM with a couple ounces of cheese to serve as my breakfast. Not a great start to the day.

It started raining while I was on that 2-lane Colorado highway. I carefully considered the landscape every time I came across a sign that declared this section of road was in a 'flash flood zone'. I suppose the locals know what they're talking about, but … all I saw were low ridges all around, sloping down to a valley some 5 or 6 feet below the asphalt roadway. No dry creek bed or eroded section to indicate past floods. Happily, it wasn't raining hard enough for me to see where a flash flood would come from.

It was still raining when I got to Nebraska, and suddenly I had plenty of company on the road. You know, it's disconcerting to find yourself zipping along at 75-80 amidst a herd of 18-wheelers, all jostling each other as they jockey for a position closer to the front of a VERY long line of traffic. Add rain heavy enough to put your wipers on high speed, and the experience becomes worrisome. So my trip east through Nebraska was not as happy as my trip west had been, except that each exit I went past put me that much closer to home.

Oct Road Trip

Took a trip this past weekend to see some old high school friends. I drove practically the entire length of Nebraska, and 150 miles into Colorado. And then, of course, after my visit, I had to drive back.

Like a lot of people, I kind of thought all those states between the Mississippi and the Rockies to be the same flavor – flat in spots, rolling in spots, with farm fields and livestock fields and an occasional tree in between the small towns. The thing about driving alone is that you have time to observe the countryside and think about things. This trip made me realize that Nebraska and Colorado are very different.

In Nebraska, there are a LOT of small towns. As I zapped down the interstate, every 9-15 miles, there was an exit that lead to some village, town or (Nebraska-sized) city. In between those exits, there were farm fields, neatly bordered by fences, though one has to wonder how a fence is going to keep a plant crop confined. Rivers and creeks were fairly frequent and bordered by large numbers of tree families. I didn't realize until I got to well into Colorado that Nebraska gave me a 'happy' impression.

In Colorado, the exits from the interstate were further apart, and in a lot of cases, those exits seemed to lead to a dirt or once-upon-a-time-paved road with no clue what direction one should go in order to find the town the exit supposedly served. The fields were still fenced, but untilled, for this was cattle country. However, the cattle seemed to be hiding behind the nearest ridge, or at the other end of the ranch, or someplace out of sight. When I got off the interstate for the last 70 miles, I went through 2 wide spots before arriving at my destination. One had a post office/general store as its only visible business, and the other had no visible businesses. Tumbleweeds really do complete the feeling of lonely desolation.

Hmmm, too many observations for one blog. Guess I'll have to do a Part 2, some day.

I Can't Complain

Actually, I can complain, I frequently do. I try not to do it so much that people can't stand my company. But the last couple days have given me Things To Think About.

I received a call the other day asking could I please provide transportation to an older woman who needed to get to her Physical Therapy, and then the store, and then home again. She no longer drives. She no longer has a husband to drive for her. She has very little sight left, and needed someone to read the prices for her on the store shelves. It took a chunk out of my day, but I did it. Some day I might be in that position myself.

This morning, I received an impromptu visit from a friend, and we started comparing notes on our health problems. She's younger than me, but her health problems, in some ways, are worse than mine. I wish I could learn now what she had to learn long ago – to get my body into shape and then exercise to keep it there. Exercising helps keep the aches and pains away. It's not that I haven't tried to exercise, but I guess I'm too easily frustrated by lack of progress.

There are days when I don't want to climb out of bed any more. I ache, I have pains, blah, blah, blah. I'm going to be telling myself to knock it off. I'm not young anymore, and I've mis-used my body for a long time. But I'm still in better shape than many other people. I still have some years left in me. If I work at it and I have a modicum of luck, they can be good years. If I'm going to complain about how awful things are, then why would I WANT to have several more years?

It's not that I CAN'T complain. It's that I choose not to.

More Bra Nonsense

Okay, I recently had to buy some new bras. Every so often I can't put it off any longer, and I have to take the plunge. In an effort to make it less of an ordeal, I carefully read the measuring instructions, in order to find my 'correct' size.

I seldom see that much ridiculous nonsense in one place.

Band Size. When I was young, the instructions were, measure around the rib cage, up under the breasts, and then add 5 inches, if that gets you an even number, or up to 6 inches, to get to an even number. That was your 'band' size. I never understood why the manufacturers couldn't just use the actual measurement around the ribs as a woman's 'band size', but they didn't.

Since then, I've seen instructions that the woman should measure around her chest, up under her armpits and over her breasts. This number actually was her 'band size', even though it had nothing to do with the band that sits around her ribs. This measurement can change from minute to minute, too, as it is not actually measuring a straight line around a woman; it's considerably lower in the back than it is in front.

This time, I was told to measure my rib cage again, but I only needed to add 3 inches, up to 4. I don't mind them changing how they measure for a bra, but adding 3-4 inches doesn't make any more sense than adding 5-6.

Cup Size. The cup size – the letter component of a bra's size – is determined by how much larger is the measurement around the body at the fullest part of the breasts compared to the 'band size'. If the numbers are the same, you're a B cup; smaller and you're an A or AA; larger and you're a C, D…all the way up to H. The instructions for getting this measurement haven't changed: "Wearing a well-fitting bra, measure around…." What? If I had a bra that fit well, why wouldn't I just check the label to see what size it is? Seems a lot simpler than all this rigmarole.

And after all this, you still don't know what size you are. Because in the end, this time I ignored my results of following the instructions and ordered the same size I bought last time, even though it wasn't the size the instructions said I took. They fit just fine.

Not Dead Yet

For several years, men of A Certain Age have had access to chemical assistance to help them in their amorous dealings.

For several years, I have periodically mentioned to my physician that I had no amorous inclinations, something my husband found quite irritating. It's gotten to the point that it's rather irritating to me, also. There is no physical reason for my enjoyment of this activity (yes, sex – what did you think I was talking about?) to be so … limited.

So, where are the little blue pills, or little pink pills, or anything that might help me enjoy myself? So far as I can figure out, there's no such thing.

Why not?

Is it because men rule the world and women (and their lack of enjoyment of such pleasures) are unimportant? There are feminists who insist this is the case. I've tried to work my way past that type of thinking, that type of conspiracy belief, but in the back of my mind…

Is it because female biology is so much more complex than male biology? Yeah, right. Tell me another.

Whatever the reason, I want it fixed. I want to feel the same level of passion my husband is still capable of. Why should men have all the fun?

PS. This is NOT an invitation to tell me of your family recipe to 'cure' this problem, or the latest 'study' on what exercise or activity the couple should do. Believe me, the subject has been researched, instructions followed, and what didn't actually turn my stomach did absolutely no good. All men need is a little blue pill. It should be just as easy for women.

When Do I Become a Senior?

Becoming a Senior Citizen used to be a simple matter. At least, I assumed it did; I really didn't pay any attention, since I didn't figure it would affect me. My assumption was, when I retired from my job and began receiving a Social Security check, then I would officially be a senior citizen.

Well, I have retired; I do receive a pension check, but I am still a long way from applying for Social Security. Actually, I am looking at starting a new career, so even though I may have retired, I am far from spending my days sitting in the pasture. As I collect a few gray hairs, I find myself in a gray area of society.

Am I a Senior Citizen? Depends where I am. Some businesses considered me a Senior Citizen as soon as I turned 50. Others won't offer me any 'consideration' until I hit 65. It's embarrassing to go into a restaurant, see a sign that offers a discount to seniors, and have to ask, "What constitutes a senior for your business?" But I am on a fixed income right now, so I swallow my pride and ask. A few pennies here, a dime or two there … it adds up. Still, if I were a gung-ho conspiracy therorist, I'd be sure this is a deliberate attempt to belittle people who have the audacity to live past their 'prime.' Keep us off balance, keep us 'in our place'.

Frankly, I don't feel like a senior citizen. I didn't wake up on the day I turned 50 and tell myself, "Well, that's it, now I'm old." Yes, I have a few aches and pains; a couple medical conditions have become long-term. So what? Plenty of younger people have chronic medical problems, and they get along just fine. So when I get my new career off the ground, maybe I won't bother to ask for the senior discount. Or maybe I'm just so thrifty that I will.

As for those parking stalls near the store door marked 'For Senior Citizens', do I use them or not? Depends on how much I ache that day.