So, 1.5 minutes ago Brian, Elizabeth and Adam were all down the hall in the playroom listening to Adam whine. You know the sound. That half-hearted, "I don't hate you enough to yank your brain out of your skull through your ears, but I'll be happy to chisel tiny bits of your nostril cartilage away over the next ten years just to see you suffer" type of whine.

1 minute ago Brian and Elizabeth gave up on Adam's song and went downstairs.

30 seconds ago Adam realized nobody was listening to his whine so he decided to follow the people who had previously validated his agony, and began the slow descent to attention.

Y'all know how almost-two-year olds go downstairs, right? They sit on their little padded bums and thump-slide their way down, one slow step at a time. Every time his rump hits the step below, Adam's whine hitches up an octave and resonates just a little bit louder.

Whaaaaaa-thump-AAAA-aaaaaah.
Whaaaaaa-thump-AAAA-aaaaaah.
Whaaaaaa-thump-AAAA-aaaaaah.
Whaaaaaa-thump-AAAA-aaaaaah.

And I felt it was amusing enough to write about. I guess that makes me just a little more sad and pathetic than Adam.

Yeah, I do.

I told you about my upcoming trip with Geoff. Well, a few weeks ago he told me he was eating healthier and had adopted a regular exercise routine. This sent me into a bit of a panic. You see, Geoff is younger and better looking than I am, and as the American Rulebook for Shallow Girls CLEARLY dictates, one must never be seen with anyone who is younger, prettier or in better shape than you are, or thou shalt be outcast or fed to hungry gophers. I knew if I kept it up with the whole brown sugar and couch-potatoed lifestyle, I would be looked upon as Geoff's flabby, old, brown-sugar gorging friend.

Oh, her.

So, this, coupled with the fact that my gynecologist told me I could probably get away with wearing a bikini if I went to the beaches in Brazil, where EVERYONE wears bikinis INCLUDING PEOPLE WHO GORGE ON BAGS OF BROWN SUGAR, I decided to step away from the Cheetos and B&J ice cream buckets, make a solid effort to lose those last few pounds and get myself into the habit of eating better and exercising more.

Note: I will never have the confidence to wear a bikini, but I'm using it as a goalpost. "If I wanted to wear one, I could." Besides, does it really matter how I get there, as long as I get there?

I can't afford to buy 'younger and better looking' on a seamstress' salary, which leaves my only option: get healthy.

So, now I jog. Actually, I began jogging about two months before the battlefields trip was even discussed, but now I'm SUPER motivated because I have to squeeze into a curvy little Victorian corset, and trust me, if you put one of those babies on in front of the mirror and a sausage link looks back at you, YOU FIND THE MOTIVATION.

I jog every other day and sometimes every day. I'm terrible at it. My feet sound like a herd of hog-tied flailing alpacas and I stumble, MY GOURDNESS, do I stumble. And once, I actually fell after attempting to bend down (while still jogging) and oOoOhh, look at the pretty snail in the roa-BLAMM-O.

I had palmscabs for a week. Palmscabs infinitely suck.

So, well, there you have it folks, the truth behind my desire to be healthy: Competitive vanity. I think it should be added to the Olympic roster as an official sport. I might actually have a shot of winning, because I sure as hell ain't gonna win at jogging, unless you get bonus points for palmscabs and ability to be distracted by shiny objects in the road.

Oh, and because of the whole jogging/falling thing, I've lost 12 pounds. Brown sugar, I am so over you. Although, all bets are off once I earn my first million. If that happens, I'll eat all the brown sugar I want because I'll be able to pay someone to liposuck the fat off my thighs.

The kid is a social explosion, which is astounding to me. I spent the first half of my life with such terrible social anxiety I couldn't bear the thought of moving through a check-out line at a grocery store. I was reclusive and terrified of people. I'm relieved that Elizabeth is so fearless. It worries me sometimes, but I'd rather that she didn't go through life battling the excessive fears that I've tried to overcome. I still have a lot of social anxiety issues and they hit me at the strangest moments, but in most instances I'm either able to work through them, or, if all else fails, hide.

While at Lowe's, she found a small cardboard box that she dragged through the store while I collected insulation and register vents. At checkout, she placed the box on the floor and sat in it. Each time the line inched forward, she scooted her butt-boat ahead. When we paid, she handed the clerk the box and said, "Hi! My name is Elizabeth! This is your box and thanks for letting me use it as a boat. I have a brother and his name is Adam. He is one but Colleen says he is two. I am three, but not four. I am a big sister and Adam is just a baby. What's your name?"

The clerk reached for the box and answered, "My name is Robin."

"Hi, Robin!" Elizabeth chirped. "Thank you for letting me play with your box!"

"You're welcome," Robin replied.

Elizabeth reached up and took my hand and sang, "Mommy, I just made a new friend and her name is Robin. She's so nice and I just love her SO MUCH!"

I wonder if Robin knows that yesterday she received the same stamp of approval that Santa received.

The Cardinals (Ryan Adams) concert kicked SERIOUS ass. If you'd like a preview of one of their new songs that's going to be released on their upcoming album, check this out. Yeah, that's Brad's new kit. Those drums, wow, those drums.

Erin, give it a chance, you stuck-in-the-80s-freak-of-nature and listen TWICE. By the second time, you'll be humming, "confuse my love for the cobwebs."

Damn, those are some good drums.

Halloween customers and Civil War friends: My friend Geoff and I are planning an incredible adventure and VMS will be closed during the week we're on the road. We will be visiting several Civil War battlefields throughout PA and VA in late October and, get this, we're going to tour all of them in period correct clothing. This is a DREAM vacation for me and I'm bouncing off the walls with excitement - not only that I'll have the opportunity to see these battlefields with someone who knows Civil War history better than I know Bugles and Easy Cheez, but I GET TO SEE ALL OF IT WHILE WEARING CIVIL WAR ERA CLOTHING.

No, people are not going to think I'm Nellie Olson, and Erin, just shut up and listen to that song, already.

Anyway - as we do every year, by the second week of October, VMS will stop accepting Halloween orders and will not be able to offer any rush orders. As of today, I am booked through to November and Erin's schedule is pretty close to full, too. If you want to order something for Halloween, it's best to email me first to make sure we can fit your order in our schedule. We do have a few ready-made bodices and gowns available. If you're stuck, email me and I will put you in touch with Erin who is Keeper of Ready-Made Garb, but is not a listener of cool, up-to-date music.

I'm off to see them (him) perform. I'll be tapping my foot and singing along tonight and tomorrow night, wearing my awesome new Poison Apple tee shirts. Buy some. They're magical.

If you've not read Colin's blog, you can read it here.

If you'd like to read Colin's post about Senator John Klein's behavior, you can click this link to read it on his blog, or you can read it below:

An open letter to NY State Senator Jeff Klein, who yesterday called me a f---ing assh-le after nearly hitting me with his Mercedes

You're never going to believe it folks, but today I had another close call on my bike, but this time the driver was New York State Senator Jeff Klein of the 34th Senate District in the Bronx. What follows is an open letter to the Senator which I will deliver to him today.

I am asking Senator Klein to meet with me and the Executive Director of Transportation Alternatives, the New York City organization that advocates for bikers and pedestrians. Since the Senator has now had first hand experience, we'd like to talk to him about policies that would help keep bikes and cars from tangling with each other.

Bloggers and journalists, please feel free to repost the letter in its entirety (being sure, of course, to attribute it to Colin Beavan at NoImpactMan.com).

Readers, please email this post to every New Yorker you know.

New York State citizens, please register your thoughts on the incident I will describe below with Senator Klein and the leader of the New York State Democrats. I will give contact details below. Please also ask Senator Klein to honor my request to meet with him.

Also, readers, please excuse the vulgar language, which as you know, I don't generally use on the blog.

September 17, 2008

Senator Jeff Klein
Legislative Office Building
Room 313
Albany, New York 12247

Dear Senator Klein,

RE: My request, as a member of the board of Transportation Alternatives, to meet with you to discuss transportation policy as it relates to bicycle safety, carbon emissions, the cultivation of New York City quality of life, breathable air, and traffic congestion.

Though you may not know my name, you may recall that you and I met today under rather unpleasant circumstances on New York City's Broadway, just north of City Hall. You were driving your black Mercedes. I was riding a small folding bicycle and wearing a purple helmet.

To refresh your memory:

Traffic was moving rather slowly and you were heading in the downtown direction, as was I. You were in the far left lane and I was riding on the curbside of that lane, near your rear passenger door. Suddenly, you began to veer your Mercedes to the left, potentially crushing me between your car and the cars parked on the side of the road.

With nowhere to go to get out of your way, and to avoid serious injury or death, in desperation, I chose to knock on your window to let you know that I was there and that you should avoid veering further in my direction.

At this point, you brought your vehicle to an abrupt halt, not to avoid hitting me, but because you apparently needed to communicate something to me. You rolled down your window and said, "Get your hands off my car, you fucking asshole."

I said, "You were veering into me and going to crush me."

You said, "You better not touch other people's cars. You might find that touching other people's cars is more dangerous than traffic."

This gave me the impression that you were threatening me.

I said, "I think my life is more precious than your car."

You said, "I didn't see you."

I said, "If you're driving a car, it's your responsibility to see what's in road space before you veer into it. That's what your driver side mirror is for."

You said, "I looked in my mirror."

I said, "You should also turn and look over your shoulder since you know there could be a bicyclist."

You said, "Yeah. Well, maybe you should watch where you're going."

I said, "Where was I supposed to go? I was there. And you were veering into me."

I was about to remind you that, in the past week, two cyclists have been killed by automobiles in New York City, but you made a gesture which implied you considered this conversation a waste of time and drove off. That is when I saw that your car had special license plates proclaiming your membership of the New York State Senate.

A red light stopped you at the next intersection. I rode alongside you and, more cautiously, tapped again on your window. You rolled it down. I could tell by your face that you weren't happy to be talking again to this particular New York State citizen, on whose behalf you govern.

I asked you, "What is your name, Senator?"

You said, "Senator Jeff Klein." This is how I know it was you.

Now, the thing is, Senator, I don't particularly call you to task for calling me a fucking asshole. If the roles had been reversed, and I had a big black Mercedes and you came up in a purple helmet, knocking on my window, and I didn't realize I was on the verge of crushing your legs, I might have called you a fucking asshole, too.

I'd like to point out, however, that, as mad as you were about my touching your car window with my hand, you could double or triple that strength of emotion when it comes to how frightening it is to be on the other side of the Mercedes driving wheel, especially when that particular Mercedes is coming toward you.

Weigh it up: "he might scratch my black Mercedes" against "he might cause my little girl to be left fatherless."

Weigh it up again: One guy is riding a bike that weighs a grand total of 22 pounds and has a relatively small potential to harm others. The other guy is in charge of a powerful machine that weighs a couple of tons. Which person has the greater responsibility to watch out for the care and welfare of people who may get in their path, by their own fault or not?

As a State Senator, I'm sure you especially feel the weight of the obligation to look out for the welfare of others, no?

Again, this is not to say you did not act like many other humans in the same situation. But it is to say that transportation policy in New York City currently falls way too short of making sure that unintended confrontations like ours--and worse ones that end in fatalities--don't occur.

Proper policy, which provided ubiquitous segregated bike lanes or which limited traffic congestion, could reduce such incidents without having to depend on drivers of black Mercedes, for example, remembering to look in their driver side mirror or over their shoulders.

It is for this reason that I hope you will honor my request to visit your office, along with Transportation Alternatives Executive Director Paul Steely White, to ask you to reconsider your current platforms on transportation and traffic congestion in New York City.

As you know, the United States' dependence of foreign oil contributes significantly to our current economic crisis and is a matter of national security. Furthermore, the planet's future ability to support human life is in peril because of global warming caused, in large measure, by the overuse of the same foreign oil.

At the same time, countless studies show that making the streets of New York and other cities safer and more convenient for bicyclists and pedestrians would reduce automobile use, dependence on foreign oil, carbon emissions, and traffic congestion while contributing to breathable air and livable streets, improved retail business, and the physical health of New Yorkers.

Yet, until now, your platform has presented obstacles to the adaptations that might bring these benefits to New York City. Not only did you oppose congestion pricing, a measure intended to decrease vehicular traffic, but you proposed eliminating the tolls on bridges and tunnels into Manhattan on holidays, which would bring more traffic into the City and further encourage automobile use, just when it should be decreased.

I hope you'll consider that these policies are out of step with the current times. I hope, too, seeing, in the case of our confrontation, the result of your policies when it comes to impact on personal lives, in general, and the safety of bikers, in particular, might also give you cause to reconsider your position.

Policies that make New York City safe for bicyclists and pedestrians--the people who live on the streets as opposed to the people who just drive through them--is best, both for our citizens and the planet.

I look forward to hearing from you regarding my request to meet in person to discuss these issues.

Yours sincerely,

Colin Beavan
aka No Impact Man,
Board Member, Transportation Alternatives

Readers, if you would like to support my request to meet with Senator Klein or to generally register your thoughts about his confrontation with me, a telephone call is the most effective means of communication. But if you can't call, please email.

You might also care to register your concerns with his more senior colleague, the leader of the Democrats in the State Senate, Senator Malcolm A. Smith.

Be sure, too, to leave a comment here on the blog letting me know if you've contacted either of the Senators.

You can reach Senator Klein at:

718-822-2049 or jdklein@senate.state.ny.us

You can reach Senator Smith at:

718-528-4290 or masmith@senate.state.ny.us

Before you read any further, take a little peek-a-doodle for yourself:

Now, let's address Dixie's utter stupidity line by line, shall we?

"I will no longer be defined by the number of dishes I wash."

Male and Female Dishwashers: When was the last time you defined your life by the number of dishes you washed? Have you ever known a single human being (apart from those who earn an income at it) who was defined by the number of dishes they wash?" This is quite possibly the most moronic string of words I have ever heard, with the exception of Palin's lipstick joke.

Washing dishes is like wiping your ass. It's something that has to be done on a regular basis or stuff starts to smell bad. Do we walk around whining about the number of times we have to wipe our asses? Does ass-wiping define our lives the way dishwashing defines our lives? Because if so, I'm going to incorporate the drudgery of ass-wiping into more of my daily conversations until Dixie finds a solution for it.

"I'm trading in my apron for something a little more glamorous."

Yes, let's do that. Because THIS is so much more glamorous than wearing an unattractive apron. Or, gasp, dishpan hands:

http://www.resourcesystemsconsulting.com/blog/

"I deserve a paper plate that's as strong as I am. It has to stand up to my grandmother's marinara without soaking through."

Ummm, maybe I'm missing something, but if you want something strong, why not use a *bleeping* ' REAL plate. You know, the ones that are collecting dust in your cupboard? Oh. That's right. Silly me. Real plates aren't glamorous.

"My children come first. It's as simple as that."

If your children came first, you would not be doing this to them by adding your glamorous paper plates to the landfill:

Photograph by Chris Jordan

"And I'm proud to used Dixie Paper Plates if it means fewer dishes and spending more time with my family."

This is the comment that most infuriates me, because Dixie is essentially saying to us, "Hey, we know you're lazy and aren't capable of reasonable thought, so we'll take care of it for you." If you believe Dixie's logic, apparently the only time of day dishes may be washed is when the family is awake.

My kids go to bed at 7. The dishes are washed after the children have been put to bed, so that the task of washing dishes never interferes with family time in our household. Using paper plates doesn't mean you love your family more. It means the folks at Dixie assume we're too narrow-minded (and lazy) to find a solution that allows us to spend time with our families AND get the dishes washed.

"Make it a Dixie Day."

Please, folks. Make it a Dixie DON'T. This type of advertising is shameful, insulting and serves as nothing more than a feeble attempt to justify the use of wasteful, unnecessary products through guilt tactics. It's appalling.

Let the folks at Dixie know that their new ad campaign is offensive and insulting to parents. You can reach them at:
Georgia-Pacific Consumer Products
133 Peachtree St., N.E.
Atlanta, GA 30303
(800) 283-5547 (ext. 5 for TDD)

Or read their tips on how to be environmentally responsible over on their website at: http://www.gp.com/

Everybody loves a hypocrite, right?

No kidding. Me too.