Exploring New Skin

We decided to go to the fair in celebration of all of the "salt of the Earth" folk who typically visit the state fair.

We hadn't been in years, long before Count and I started dating, it was time for an Indian Taco.

The husband wanted a sign. A pretty little sign for the yard to advertise for the next president. Having finally made up my mind about this upcoming election, I told him we could get one.

There was a catch, there alway is.

We had to register to vote to get the signs. And we are both registered to vote. So I decided to do something I have known I've needed to do for years, and I switched political parties. Just like that, done. And, we got the signs.

But since then I've felt icky. Mother flipped, as mothers always do. The whole breaking-with-family-tradition thing. I thought at 27 I would avoid this backlash, but I guess a parent is never proud when you "rebel."

I know I made the right choice, but it is a strange closure for me and a strange thought that I am actually shifting groups. And I don't like all of the new people in this group.

And then I watched the VP debates and knew without a doubt that I had made a good choice.

And then I saw the debate last night and now all of the sudden I am not so sure.

Is it possible that I might actually be an undecided voter? Or am I just undecided about switching parties? I really need someone strong to just tell me more than what I already know so I can make the decision I was comfortable making 24 hours ago.

And, as I noted, the sign was stolen 24 after we placed it. Go America.

Lacking Motivation

Cat Math.

14 Vomits + 3 diarrheas = 1 unhappy camper

Campbell's chicken broth - 30% sodium = gag

1 cancelled debate tournament + 1 free Friday evening = everything's okay

Losing an Invisible Friend

There's an elephant in the room.

Dr. Randy Pausch says if there's an elephant in the room, to address it. Any by the way, on an unrelated note, I think this guy is amazing and it's well worth your time to never return here, but rather to play around in his website. His last lecture is phenomenal, and I barely deserve to be quoting him.

She's a pretty elephant. She wears a pink tutu. And ballet slippers. And she keeps beautiful eyelashes.

So, when I do as advised and adress the elephant, I find that she adores that kind of attention. What 1/2 ton balerina wouldn't? She loves me to talk about her, so I address her expecting her to go away, but she stays. And she will not be ignored.

I try but she stamps her feet and wails through her trunk. She's a diva, I know. The more she kicks, the less I eat. (whoo hoo?)

The more I poop. (uh oh)

And...worse. I woke up this morning knowing the diva must die.

I'm strangely addicted to her presence, even though she physically makes me ill.

I don't know how I'll kill her, or know if I am even able to accomplish this task, but one thing is certain, either I kill her or she kills me.