I can fix it!

I'm increasingly annoyed by the propaganda re: Right to Life, blah blah blah, vs. Right to Choose. Because I understand there is No. Middle. Ground. Here. The facts are that some people consider the fetus' rights a trump card over the mother's; others consider women's right to choose an integral part of freedom.
But I have a solution. I think it's quite elegant, and while the few people I've presented it to have been horrified and all agog at my derring-do in even suggesting it, if the ultimate goal is truly to end abortion and ensure that all fetuses who can be born are, it works. It also evens out the disparity of responsibility long associated with the most effective birth control.
Ready? Perform reversible vasectomies on all young male adolescents, let's say, starting at age 12. For those who don't trust the medical establishment, offer sperm freezing (heck, given the studies that show older dude's jizz isn't quite up to snuff and has a higher rate of birth defects and other health problems, maybe, for the sake of the fetus, all pregnancies should be started with cryogenically frozen baby batter from the would-be papa's halcyon days).
Oh wait, said some folks: that's an invasive medical procedure performed on a minor without his knowing consent! Really? You mean, like male circumcision to make the penis pretty/less ooky-seeming? That's interesting too, as some would consider an unwanted or unplanned pregnancy invasive. So we're trading one for the other for a while--let's call it, say, 400 years, just a little trial period. Seems fair to me.
But the overwhelming reaction is more that, while they saw it as a logical and even "elegant" solution, "no way a nation of dads and their adolescent sons will let you close to their penises with a laser." Oh. So it's not about an individual's right to choose a medical procedure/condition. It's about the penis. YAWN.

CUTENESS

So with the reminder that our country's future may lie in the hands of undecided voters who prefer a coin toss to critical thinking, I thought I'd turn to something a little more uplifting. How about pie?

This is the classic Peach Custard recipe straight out of Joy of Cooking, and it relies on really good ingredients more than skill. Except the crust, that really has to be homemade. I've been using Plugra butter for my baking with grand results; I still use ~1/2 to ~1/3 veggie shortening to get the uber-flaky pastry dough, though.

Speaking of pie, look who's cute as?

Lane was playing with my scarf (look familiar, Jenn? Told you I still have and love it!) and enjoying his new shirt from his first self-chosen live show. If you have a need for children's music that doesn't suck (and really, who doesn't?), then check out The Harmonica Pocket. They not only put on a killer live show for the bairns, but write clever and weird lyrics with complex and kinda of jazz-melodic-harmonic music behind them. Plus one of the singers hula hoops like a fiend. DUDE.

In other news, the Huz and the bairn did FixitStuff around the house and not only did I find how motivational a list is for the Huz, but I caught them in action hard at work.

They're hanging my stainless utensil racks, and Lane's showing his helping hand skills.

It's all over the place, but . . .

I believe you need to see this if you haven't yet.

New job, new week . . . do I go for #3?

This is day 3, and it's not too bad. Once I get through this one, I know the only glitch is my willpower, since the physical addiction is gone (so They say).

My quandary is, shockingly, nothing to do with the heinous quitting smoking thing. It's about how I should get to work. I have to be downtown at the library on the 5th floor by 8:30. If I drive, I have to pay ~$8 in parking and leave at 8 a.m. sharp. If I take the Max, I have to leave by 7:30 sharp, but get to read/crochet (yes, Ainsley, there is a blanket in your future!) and listen to my iPod and feel so urban and chic. Or . . . wait for it . . . I could bike. It's about 6 miles each way, there are indoor bike racks and showers, and I have the perfect bike with all the gear. Too, I could take it easy and bike to the Lloyd Center Max station, about halfway . . . it's very tempting, if only for some way to get some exercise. I may try the bike tomorrow. Hold your breath!

Ever done something OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER?

Yeah. This is like that, except it's not the fun things like spinning around on the playground merry-go-round until you vomit, or sticking your tongue out at strangers, or blowing the seeds from dandelions. It's quitting smoking, and at this point I can sadly say that I have some skill at it: "Oh, this is the part where I ask my friends and family for support . . . I wonder if they'll do it anymore or if they'll just ask me to bring back the wolf pelt on my own." Day two today, and I had the "Oh, damn, this is the headache and really stinky sweat-it-out day. I hate this one." And I'm so very looking forward to tomorrow, which if my last blog is any indication, begins the "oh, man, THAT doesn't look healthy" Cough-a-Thon 2008 II, in which your author's lungs try to rid themselves of the thick gooey black coating that currently resides.

Well, griping, bitching and moaning aside, it helps to write it out a bit and to know that in so doing, I've gone 5 more minutes without a cancer stick.