My daughter strikes again with thoughts on the Pledge of Allegiance that students are required to say at her school at the beginning of second block every day.

  I thought this was an interesting essay particularly in light of the "patriot or traitor" meme of the Republican party/ media over the last 8 years.

   (And for those who are interested, she's furious that she'll never get to vote for Barack Obama, even if he wins a second term.  So if someone out there can take someone to the polls to vote for him, she'd be most appreciative.)

Cheers- and her thoughts- below the fold.

  Every once in a while my daughter lets me post something she's written.  Lately she's been thinking about getting a PhD. in environmental engineering and another in Archaeology so she can take the knowledge of past environmental disasters and apply it to our modern emergency.

  For those of you who don't know about my kiddo, she's currently 11 years old and a junior at a local high school.  She likes her privacy, so I won't tell you any more than that- other than to say that she's quite happy with her life and please don't recommend any books because she's probably already read them!

Duck under the fold to find out what's in store...

  My 9 year old daughter is tall, strong, and deeply concerned with what she sees hapening in America.  She wanted me to share with you a paper she just finished for her ninth grade Honors English class.  I know you will welcome her... and with a little encouragement, she just may sign up.

Thanks.

Go below the fold to see

Watership Down and its Allusions to America's Current State

  For us, it usually begins with whiskey.  You come to the door after the funeral, pondering combined thoughts of mortality and potential.  You set your things down on the back bed and come forward to make your toast to the dead.  He may have been a bastard, but he was our bastard.  She may have been a gossip, but the secrets she told about the family only mirrored how much she loved and focused on us.  This is a time for remembering the best, for laughing, crying, mourning and reforging.

  It is no secret that I think we've shuffled off the mortal coil of the Democratic party, and others have made it plain that they see no death- or at least expect a resurrection in three days time.  That's fine.  We're all family and all welcome.  This is a time for remembering and renewal.

So if you want to join the wake, or awaken new resolve for democracy, grab a glass and add your toast beneath the fold.

Mom claims my dad's always been the last guy through the door before the opportunity closed.  I'm delighted it turned out that way, because this man grew up in a boxcar among the Irish railroad builders.  His mother died in childbirth with him, so he was under the wing of his grandmother, the camp cook.  To this day my dad says he has never seen such body-wearing hard work.

But he got himself out of there by enlisting in the Air Force.  He worked his way up the ranks and retired after 20 years- then he found a job in a factory and was the last man hired before the freeze.  He soon found himself working the jobs of three men.

The company began to go under, so dad scrambled and found a job at IBM.  One of my most vivid childhood memories was the night before his interview when mom dyed his hair.

  Remember that scene in the original Star Wars where Luke, Leia, Han Solo and Chewy are being squeeeeezed in the trash compactor?  That's what the economy is doing right now: gasoline, heating, food, health care, and everything else is costing more while wages don't even keep up with inflation.  

   Fortunately, I've had a chance to hone my frugality skills over the last few years as we tried to homeschool our daughter on a one teacher income.  Oh yeah, and we paid off a student loan and moved from Alaska....

I think it's time we shared our best tips with each other.  

Go below for the fall frugal fest...

My neighbors are partying.

They have the bar set up in their garage, a loudspeaker blaring, and horseshoes poles in the street.

(Crossly posted at My Left Wing- another fabulous blog)

I've been with my husband for 14 years, and since we're still snuggly at night I'd like to think we have some idea of how good relationships work.  For us it has been
respect
division of labor
shared values
shared goals
family and future

In this morning's shower I was fuming over the DLC and Hillary when the question came to me.  If my relationship with the Democratic Party were a marriage, would I leave?

Last month I made a cake for my daughter's ninth birthday.  She wanted watermelon balls and balloons hung to the trees.  She received her presents joyfully- a stuffed animal, beading kit, gyroscope, and went off to play in a frosting induced bliss.

Yesterday I had to buy her a bra.

What is going on that our children are entering puberty so quickly?  Is she alone in this?

So what does sleep have to do with raising a profoundly gifted child?  

Take trip through cinematic history with me, back to a Cary Grant Film called I Was A Male War Bride.  In this farce, the lead character couldn't find a place to bunk because her didn't fit the authorized profile of a war bride- female.  All the paperwork was designed for females, asked personal questions for females and- here's where we fit in- he didn't fit their red tape and so he didn't really exist.  It was beyond their duty to help him, so each clerk shuffled him along while stating "I know.  But you can't sleep here."

Follow me beneath the fold.  (I promise to put funny anecdotes at the end!)

promoted by BooMan

For the longest time we had absolutely no idea.

When she was 16 months old she turned her hand over and over in the tub and asked "Mom, what is there in water that makes it wet?"

We thought that was cute- and took the time to answer her.

When she began read Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You?  we were thrilled!  Our family has always enjoyed books.  No biggie if she was just under 2.

She spent one day asking us about everything that burned.  We tired of listing specifics, so when she asked again at supper we said "Things that come from plants."  She took one look at her peas and corn, then dove under the table- thinking she might combust if she ate them.

We began to look up and realize this was not the experience other parents seemed to be having.  In fact, parents began to look at us like we were some sort of flashcard carrying pushers.  Ha!