Public "Scandal"

I try not to comment on politics too much in our discussions.  This is primarily because when I do so, I tend to tick people off.  This, in and of itself, doesn't bother me much.  But when there really isn't room for debate (you and I can't engage in much of a back and forth), then it's just not worth commenting.

...with a few exceptions, this being one.  I'm sure you have heard the "scandal" of the New York Representative who got into some hot water because he sent compromising photos of himself to random strangers via Twitter.  He is a politician, is married, has a baby on the way, and sent the photos to people he had never met in his life.  Um, ok.  At first, I couldn't see the problem.  I admit I am a bit more lax when it comes to morality than most, but the photos weren't nudes and he wasn't doing anything that compromised our country, so why is it my problem?  But the more I learned about how he really didn't know the women to whom he sent the photos, the more concerned I became that the guy is, more than anything, completely stupid.  But in discussing this with a friend, we noted that maybe he's just like many, many people around the world.  He just doesn't get that the Internet is public.

As we have discussed before, I am completely paranoid.  Although you all get to hear every thought that crosses my brain (and trust me, there aren't many), there is a level of anonymity.  Apart, of course, from the fact that I know many of you personally.  But I am a freak.  I ask my friends not to post photos on Facebook and, as you know, comments that divulge personal info don't get published.

On the flip-side, though, is the fact that EVERYTHING we say and do on the Internet is public or potentially public.  Trust me--in my line of work I have obtained emails between people who NEVER thought the outside world would see their comments.  And suddenly it is an issue that the off-color joke you just sent might mean you have racist tendencies.  But more than that, I have dealt with people who post on blogs or other public sites that "those damn lawyers" will "never catch me."  Um, yeah, we will, and when you say stuff like that publicly we will easily do so.  You get the picture.  People just don't get that what they are saying is as though they had posted it in the New York Times, times a million.

So back to Representative W.  What the heck?  Seriously, how do you, as a public official, not know that this stuff is going to get out there?  Or do you secretly want the world to know that you are (to use Jon Stewart's words) "ripped" and "huge"?  Regardless, it can't be worth it.  I don't give a crap about politicians' mistresses or drug habits or airport bathroom escapades.  I do, however, care when our elected officials are dumb.  And I just can't comprehend what could possibly make this man think that this stuff won't get out there.  Weird, sexual photos.  Perfect strangers.  Internet.  What am I missing here?

And so, my friends, please feel free to post whatever photos of yourself you feel like on this site.  But understand that I will sell them to the hightest bidder.  And if you are a politician, please have your apology speech ready.  Because while I personally don't care whether you are ripped and huge, there are apparently many, many who do.  And I intend to profit from it.

What Do I Do?

The other day I was asked by someone what I do in a day.  It wasn't a malicious question (the type I asked of stay-at-home parents before I had a kid).  It was just a simple inquiry.  I was so excited--now was my chance to demonstrate why the past few weeks have been about a billion times more exhausting than years as a lawyer.  And so I smiled, took a deep breath and said....I have no idea.

Here's the thing: I am not kidding when I say this is a lot harder for me.  It's a never-ending routine of cleaning and cooking and playing and weeding and errand-ing.  But I can't possibly explain it because even when I just list off the things above, that really doesn't do it justice and sounds stupid.  I feel like both a pansy and a fool--I completely judged stay at homes and now can't possibly explain why it's more difficult for me.

Part of it, I think, is the routine.  My child functions SO much better when he naps at the same time, eats at the same time and plays at the same time.  And my child functioning well makes MY life much easier.  So I try to keep most days the same.  Which is crazy for someone like me.  I loved the law because litigation was constantly changing--one day you're doing depositions, the next you are writing and the next you are in Brussels.  So trying to do the same thing day-in, day-out is grueling.  And the awful part is, I still can't put words on what "the same thing" is!  I have no idea what I do in a day.  I know it's a lot, I know I don't get breaks or huge changes, but I have no idea what I do.  Do you?  Anyone?  What the heck do I do in a day?

The Hostess With the Not-So-Mostess

I love get-togethers.  Whether a party of 4 or 40, I absolutely love them.  I love going to them and I love throwing them.  I love all aspects of them--from the planning to the seating charts to the food to the graphs of conversations you expect to take place (that's not normal?) to the decorations...you get the picture.  Love it.

When my friends and I had exactly zero responsibilities and a fair amount of disposable income, having people over for games or planning birthday outings was absolutely tops.  For example, on one of my whatever-number birthdays, my awesome friends planned an elaborate outing at a martini bar.  Which was fan-freaking-tastic.  And which I promptly left at 10:00 while they happily carried on throughout the evening.  By way of further example, "backyard" (fine, back or roof deck) BBQs were also the norm--someone would put down plenty in booze and brats (hey, it was the Midwest) and, as mosquitos are too busy watching the Cubs suck to bother people in Chicago, it made for several happy nights.

So, things are totally the same now, right?  Um, no.  And it's not the location that has changed.  Last weekend I had a few family members over for a BBQ.  Nothing big and not very well-scripted--very last minute, "hey you haven't seen the baby yet" kind of thing.  But, still, I was very excited to get food and plates, etc.  It felt like getting back into the swing of things (maybe I am a 55 year old male going through a midlife crisis?) and socializing.  Yeah, and I was a TOTAL disaster.  I completely forgot to put out the potato salad.  The corn wasn't done until some 20 minutes after the burgers were getting cold.  And I ultimately ran out of buns.  WHAT HAPPENED TO ME???  The worst part?  I was dead-exhausted by halfway through.  By 4pm I wanted to kick everyone out.  It was insane.  AND I only had part of one poorly-made mojito.  Pitiful.  Just pitiful.

I guess my point today is that our youth cannot be recaptured.  Nor can our abilities.  So I guess I am going to throw in the towel and hit Dennys for their 4:30 dinner specials.  Anyone care to join me?

The Name Game

The other day when I was in the state-run liquor store (you gotta love Montana), the checker mentioned that she has a two year old son and is pregnant.  I asked if she had any names picked out and she said she would probably make one up, like she did with her son Jusson.  OK.

I have to say, the naming of a child is a fascinating process.  I had a much more difficult time with boy names than I did with girls.  I, like many parents, wanted something not-too-crazy but also not run of the mill.  I agonized over it for months and only when I uttered it after he was born did his name really stick for me.  I still think it's a great name for him, so no regrets.  When it comes to some other names I have heard, however, not so much the case.  There are some, in my opinion, pretty harsh names for kids out there.  Sadly, like me, EVERYONE has an opinion.  I have one poor friend whose mother in law pretty much responded with "ick" upon hearing the child-to-be's name.  I have another friend whose MOTHER refuses to call her granddaughter by her given name.  She calls her something else entirely.  Like, say the little girl's name is "Jody," she calls her "Beth."  The name game is serious stuff in many families.

What has really surprised me, though, is the difference in names by geographic location.  Given today's technology and the nomadic nature of people, I would think names would generally be the same no matter where you live.  But I'm finding that not to be the case.  There are still the popular names here that there were in Chicago, but some of the more unusual ones are REALLY unusual. Some are terrific.  Others, not so much.  But it's very strange to me that it is noticable.

I do have to wonder how much influence family has on the issue.  As mentioned above, friends have dealt with family imput all over the place.  But the friends I mentioned weren't swayed by the pressure.  Others, I'm not so certain.  For example, my cousin recently had a baby boy.  She named him a great name.  But the first name is the town where our grandparents lived and the middle name is my grandpa's (very old-fashioned) name.  Like I said, it's a great name.  But her motivations for choosing it, I can't fathom.  It really seemed like she was trying to get the attention of our many, many aunts and uncles.  Very interesting to me.

I absolutely do not advocate making fun of a kid for his or her name.  At least not in front of him or her.  But take a gander at the names around you of little ones, and the next time you travel do the same.  Are there a billion Isabellas?  Or is it something different that creeps up?  If the former, be certain to burn all of the town's copies of Twilight.  In fact, do that anyway.  But my point is that I think you'll be surprised.  And if you are naming a child, I recommend staking out his or her college, doing an informal poll of what names will be accepted there in 18 years, then go home and have a drink because you are way too uptight.

Newsworthy

Hi folks.  As an initial matter, my apologies for my absence.  A nasty, week-long bout of the flu followed by visiting company has kept me from my daily rants.  While I am quite certain you can make it through the day without me, I'm also certain you would do anything to be distracted from your day jobs, so I apologize.

One of the first things I did upon arriving in Montana was set up my satellite TV.  I'm not kidding--before I had furniture, I had my receivers ready to go.  This may seem like quite an expense for someone counting their dimes, and it is.  But to understand me, you have to understand my obsession with football (American football--I'm not that hip).  I live for football.  And, more particularly, I live for the Chicago Bears.  My dad and I have shared season tickets for a number of years now, and we have this little fantastic family of season ticket holders around us.  And you haven't seen anything until you have seen one or more of the women of our clan climb up the steep stairs in the middle of winter, huge pregnant, navigating ice and stupid drunk fans because that's who we are.  So, point being, I needed to know that I could watch my Bears anywhere, any time (we'll talk about the potential lockout when I don't want to hurt someone over it).

One of the more odd pitfalls of going this route for television viewing, however, is that I do not get local channels.  Seriously.  I get the networks, but they're out of...Manhattan.  I'm not kidding.  Every night I watch the news and learn of the latest caper in Brooklyn or how Central Park was a bit too hot for roller blading today.  It's very strange.  And I love it.  I actually got into a tiff with someone here because she couldn't understand why I wouldn't demand to know what is going on where I live.  Well, first, I figure if something is going on, one of the neighbors will tell me.  Second, nothing is going on.  So there you go.

That said, I have very much missed the Chicago news.  I have no idea why, particularly since it terrified me after I had a kid.  It's pretty harsh, let's just say.  And I technically get my fix through the Tribune website.  But until tonight, I had felt very, very displaced.  In general, these days I'm not quite certain who I am.  I'm working on it, mind you, but everything I knew is different, so it's a slow process.

Anyway, last night I was feeling like myself more than normal, as I was watching the Cubs get spectacularly beaten by the Cardinals and was having a glass of wine.  Then, unlike most nights, I did not immediately go to bed when the game was over.  To my surprise, I had forgotten that the station showing the games also has Chicago news (I never said I was very bright).  So, delighted, I watched.  Also to my surprise, it was heaven.  The news wasn't any lighter than normal (muggings, shootings, train wrecks) but the voices and the places and the people were familiar.  I had spent over a third of my life getting to know Chicago as home.  And I was thrilled to see that I could still touch home, even from miles away.  It wasn't my friends, or my house, or the life I knew, but it was a tiny bit of me.  I suddenly remembered a bit of the woman who I had been for so long.  It was heaven. Who knew--something so insignificant as sights and sounds can center you a bit.  Look for the familiar.  They'll help you navigate the foreign.