Thursday, November 20, 2014

Hillary Clinton IS a real woman

My 49th birthday had just recently passed, and I looked - really looked - at myself harder than I have in a long time. I wondered what a little nip and tuck could do for my appearance. 

The next day Paul Begala, a CNN contributor, had the perfect comeback to a CPAC audience member who suggested Hillary Clinton get "a facelift". He quipped, "No, not get a facelift. She's not a Republican society lady, she's a real woman." This led me to reflect on my own musings about plastic surgery. I have decided that, like Hillary, I have earned every wrinkle and sag of my skin, every ache in my joints. I, too, am a real woman. 

Those little lines around my mouth? Some are from frowning when one of my children was hurt. Some are from pursing my lips when I was old enough to know when to keep my mouth shut. But most of the wrinkles are from smiling. Smiling with pride when my children first walked, first talked; when they brought me dandelions and other "flowers." Smiling when they started school and graduated school. 

The ache in my hip joints? That is from joyfully jumping from the barn loft into hay as a child; marching and running in the Marine Corps; carrying my children, first in my belly, then on my hip. They ache from a life of work, and a life of play. 
Author as a Marine

The age spots on my skin? Some come from the hours I rode horseback as a young girl. Some are from working outdoors in the hot North Carolina sun; some are from lying on the beach watching my children splash in the surf. Some are from sitting on my deck and enjoying the beauty of nature around me. Every age spot is a different memory. 

Hillary may have earned her wrinkles in different ways - Lord knows I'm sure Bill gave her many - but she wears them well, and she wears them proudly. We all should be accepting of the body that time, and life, has given us. Let us be real women, not plastic society women grasping at a lost youth.

Conservative logic in North Dakota

In addition to my regular job, I also write for my hometown newspaper. One of my assignments is to cover the government meetings.
One of the duties of one particular group of elected officials is to hire people for the county road crew. There was upheaval this past year - the county employees did not like being on salary. They wanted to be paid for all the hours they worked so they could receive overtime pay. The elected officials  gave in and decided to pay the workers by the hour.

Trouble started when seasoned employees  found out they were being paid less then people who had been hired more recently. One employee asked for a raise equal to what a new hire was given - $14.00 an hour.

I was in attendance at the  meeting when this  employee's request was considered. The elected officials were angry that the employee was asking for a raise. One official recalled a former employee who would work from sunup to sundown for  60 cents an hour. Another said that if they raised the employees salary then next month he would be asking  for $15 an hour.

The employee did not get his raise and resigned.

What did the officials do? They hired a new employee with no experience at the rate of $15 an hour.

Why? Because they were outraged that someone would ask for a raise. How dare the employee not be grateful for the job? He must be a union agitator!!! We will show him!

Yeah. They showed him........... and the taxpayers will pay.

Saturday, January 11, 2014

Poverty Made Me a Criminal

Living in this great country has one major disadvantage: the lack of public transportation. If you live in or near
a city, this is less of a problem, but in the rest of the country owning a car is a necessity if you ever hope to get a job.

At one time I considered myself lucky to have a car that was paid for. It was rusty and dented, but it ran very well.

But keeping and driving the car  turned me into a law-breaker. I have always prided myself on my honesty - I do not steal, sell drugs, or litter. But  when I saw a patrol car (on the way to get my nails done, snark) my heart started racing and I got a sick feeling in my stomach.

Why? Because I was a criminal, a scofflaw - I was driving an unregistered and uninsured vehicle.

That ate at me. I never went out without a pressing need - my son's doctor appointment or groceries. I imagine I could have parked the car and begged a ride, but I was so tired and ashamed of asking others for help.

It was foolish and I risked getting caught and paying costly fines, but what little pride I had left was at stake.

I'm glad I didn't get caught.