…And I don’t think John McCain does either.  After my last political post I had a stroke of freaking genius.

Really, who in their right mind would want to take over the chaos that will be the reformation of American political and policy infrastructure… amidst a veritable implosion of affairs, racial, international, military and economic.

What Republican actually believes that a flip-flopping, inconsistent, aged candidate who has been at odds with his party throughout his years in the Senate and a young, inexperienced barely articulate potential V.P. with little to offer in breadth or depth of knowledge or wisdom, can actually earn the Oval Office?!

This is not to say that Obama is not in his right mind, but certainly Democrats are perhaps naively convinced that good does in fact conquer evil and that they and their noble and worthy ideals can actually, if not turn things around, at least stem the tide.  And sure, they likely can… but at great expense to the American public.  It’s gonna hurt… a tearing off of the band-aid… slowly.

Ultimately taking on this mess is going to make this next administration incredibly unpopular.  And who better to be sitting in an unpopular presidency, but a formerly popular, idealistic, handsome, young Democrat? It’s inevitable.  And the resultant pendulum swing equally inevitable… right into the outstretched, so-very-comforting, waiting arms of a new and certainly more viable… more classically Republican, candidate.  Standing next to a realistic, actually vote-able, not so ripe for comedy, running mate.

Oooooooooooohhhhhhhhhh, you Republicans, you!  Drive your country, not to mention your party, into the shitter and then evilly manipulate a grand resurgence when the smoke clears… Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrgggghhh!

It all makes sense to me now.  Like I said, genius….

OK, so maybe it didn’t come to me without a little inspiration… but if you listen to this, the theory- conspiratorial though it may be- certainly has legs.  Shaky, perhaps, but it does get one thinking….  all may not be exactly as it seems.

This was recorded last June and the only thing that’s incorrect is the predicted age of the VP candidate… otherwise… hmmmmmmmm………………….

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Tap, tap, tap… anybody out there?!?  Y’know I look at my stats.  I know people are out there, but as with real, in-person life, ain’t nobody saying anything!

Not that I have people lurking outside my house or peeking in my windows- OK, so yeah, I guess there was this one time… - but I have a pretty solitary life.  I have a very small circle of friends with whom I socialize, trade kids and bitch about y’know, whatever.  But it’s small.  And, unlike so many other shut-in mommy bloggers, this solitude seems to be reflected back to me in the blogosphere.  How are other bloggers getting tens, dozens, even hundreds, sometimes freakin’ thousands of comments?  Am I just so much less sparkly?  Am I just so much less engaging? Do I not mention the hooters enough?  Maybe if I allowed a little more banter about the ol’ sex life?  What?  What?  What?  What will get me some GD attention on this effing innernet?!?!

Whaddup?  Here I sit, safely ensconced in my basement, waiting for friends, dammit.  Just like friggin’ highschool.  Come on people, I’m nice.  I’m friendly.  I’m even smart. Pleeeeeeaaaaase love me…….

Hey!  Comment and maybe I’ll even show you my hooters!

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As I read my friendly neighborhood news blogs this morning I found myself bemoaning to my husband the fact that I wasn’t American.  Now, never in our history together… nor my own individually, have I EVER uttered those words.  And it’s likely I shan’t ever again… however….

As I perused this morning, after nearly a month almost completely out of the loop, there was a distinct feeling of envy for this populace and their potential to create REAL change in their political reality- certainly juxtaposed to our own lacklustre, uninspired election and a resigned acceptance to status quo.  As everyone, the media and individuals alike, keep saying, this is “historic”, the “election of a generation” and it’s exciting, not to mention just downright, fitfully entertaining, to watch it all go down.  In my early hours, by the glow of my laptop screen, I experienced a sharp, intense pang of wanting to be a part of it.

Despite my lack of participation, I am still married to an American. I am also a citizen and resident of the United States’ largest trading partner… so the campaign and subsequent election cannot be reduced entirely to merely entertainment.  But, in all honesty, as I’ve watched, riveted, for these many months I have had little trust in my neighbors to the south to actually be able to take the leap of faith and common sense and support Obama.  I was certain they could still be manipulated by fear (of terrorists and socialists, alike) and McCain would get the votes as a result… but it seems I may be wrong.

Day by day, Republican mutiny by Republican mutiny, I am reassured that common sense has not abandoned the American public.  High profile, long-time, even life-long, Republicans are seeing the error of their ways, or at least John McCain’s.  Sure, you can blame his choice of train-wreck, Sarah Palin, if you wish- while initially a tremendous boost to the campaign she is currently nothing but an embarassing albatross- the diminishing support has to be placed at the feet of the man, himself.

John McCain, a Republican I might have actually voted for, if I’d been able, back in 2000- and believe me, I would have rather had my toes roasted and devoured by Rush Limbaugh than have voted Republican- given his progressive and firmly moderate position on most things I consider to be important… say, taxation, gay rights and abortion- or at least, the woman’s right to choose.  He has shamelessly turned fundamentally on almost every issue, whether it was for the sake of his base, or the grind of a challenging campaign- first in the Republican leadership and now the Presidency- and he is losing respect and support within the party at break-neck speed.

It is of great relief to be rid of the idiot that is George Dubya… it is of tremendous pleasure to witness probably the most Canadian of Americans elected to the highest office of the land… but it is with enormous sadness and regret that we see a great American clumsily orchestrate his own humiliating and bloody political demise.

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It’s common for my friends, as well as myself, to say about our boys, regardless the age, “They’re so uncomplicated… boys are simple.  Really.”

Those of us with girls, regardless the age, “OMG… what the hell was I thinking… this child is possessed… or at the very least right out of her cotton pickin’ mind!” or, ” OMG… what the hell?!??!  Was it something I said?!  Did I happen to look at her sideways?!?!?!  While I was completely occupied in my own thoughts, chopping the GD vegetables?!?”

Look, I know right now is relatively easy.  She’s only four… not fourteen, exerting her independence, convincing the world she was, in fact, conceived, gestated and birthed under a rock on some imagined shore of a remote oasis in the middle of the Sahara.  “Parents?!?  Hell, no… not me…  Parents are, like, sooo-oooo not cool…”

But, here’s the deal… I asked her if she might chop with her butterknife, the mushrooms, just a teensy bit larger… rather than the flecks she was reducing my pizza fixin’s to.  I’d be dressing my ‘za at breakfast the rate things were moving.  Hey!  You, there, thinking I should have just sucked it up and let her continue competely masticating my precious fungii…. Uh huh.  Yes.  That was made abundantly clear the moment my constructive criticism left my lips!!!!!!!

And despite my immediate revelation and my subsequent inadequate attempts to apologize/make amends/back-pedal, the drama… it did ensue:

A look of complete, utter dejection.  As though I’d literally sucked all of the air out of her.  Slamming knife onto cutting board, leaping from kiddie chair upon which she stood, “I quit this job!”

And falling to her knees, “You hate the way I cut mushrooms…. aaaaaa-nnnnndddd you hate the way I ballet….  aaaaaa-aaannnnnnnd you hate my ballet girl dre-eeeeessssssss….!!!!!!!!!

What the….

And, wailing, “This is not my reeeeee-eeaaaalllll family!!!  They just… they just…  DROPPED me off here!”

“You don’t love me….  You!  Are!  The!  Worst!  Mummy!  EVERRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!

Ahem… OK.  Lesson learned.

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I knew I shouldn’t have done it.  As I sit here, enjoying the tropical breeze through the very modest lobby where I sit in Hotel Las Garzas, downtown Chelem on the Gulf Coast of lovely Yucatan, I knew to the depths of my very warm and tranquil soul, I shouldn’t have done it.

Damn you, CBC.ca!  Damn you for tempting me.  Here I am enjoying some much needed time away from husband and the miscreants- we all share a room in our quaint little Mexi-shack, doncha know?!?- sending emails, perusing my favourite blogs, considering an interesting post of my own and I get sucked into wondering… “Who the hell won our election, anyways?”

And thank you, ever reliable CBC!  OK, so it was my fault.  What did I think I would find there… a Yucatan beach-cam?!?!  And so… as I suspected.  The oh so charismatic, Celine- I mean, Stephane- Dion and the Liberals, didn’t have a hope in hell… Thanks to the oh so charismatic Celine- I mean, Stephane- Dion.  Thankfully between the dullard Liberals and my beloved NDP with cutesie, tootsie Jack Leighton, the Conservatives again, have only achieved a minority government.

But… doesn’t sound like I missed much as it appears almost no one felt it necessary to even get off their bums to go out and cast a ballot.  Let’s hope our neighbors to the south are a little more inspired!!

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I have a cold.  I didn’t sleep worth rice and beans last night and my head feels like it’s three times its normal size… not a bad thing, I suppose, as I am known for having a freakishly small head…

Anyhoo.  We got school done despite my best efforts, nodding off at the table… body completely devoid of caffiene- I hate coffee when I’m sick… urging young ones to ‘go play on Mummy’s computer…. We’d have bagged it altogether, but, ummmmmm… we, like, did that yesterday.

Because… we took off early for breakfast in nearby Progreso, where we could enjoy highspeed wireless with our huevos.  And stroll The Malecon- essentially a boardwalk, minus the rides and Thrasher’s Fries- with the endless stream of visiting Gringo’s from the two cruiselines docked at the local port.  OhmiGod.  By 10:30 in the morning our sleepy little Puerto had turned into Decreptitude, Inc.  Honestly, an incredible transformation.  Town was suddenly abuzz with activity:  markets, beer, endless tables lined up on the beach selling $20 massages, beer, Margaritas, music, more shit to sell, beer…  10:30 in the morning?!?!  It was crazy.

Granted, I’ve never been on a cruise, so I’m unfamiliar with what goes on at the various ports of call, but galldurnit, I was fearing a “me so hawwwwny…” moment there in the middle of this nearby normally tranquilo beach, as I dragged kids away from the rows of Margarita laden massage victims and their eager and so very friendly ‘masseuses’….

However, Hubby is heading back next week.  Cruise Ship Monday… his last chance for a $20, one hour rub-down…. Erk. Men.

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our pool… and shack, originally uploaded by tlcphotos.

For the one of you who asked those of you who’ve been waiting, here’s our casita. Our little piece of the Yucatan. Our tiny sliver of paradise… Our slice of the dream… Our… well, you get my drift.
It was two years ago this month that we bought this crusty shack on a spit of sand little bit of tropical heaven.
We put in the pool the winter after we bought it knowing that the miscreants can sleep just about anywhere, but a pool would really make this a place they loved to be. The house could wait.
And it has waited. This is our second visit.

It has two rooms:  a large bedroom, where we all crash- three of us in a queen bed, one on a sofa and the other (daring Zip, middle child) likes the hammock- and a kitchen, where we eat, do school work and just hang out.
It works for a few weeks at a time and then, well… I can see how overcrowded rodents begin killing and eating their young….
We are discussing more seriously now what changes, expansion, renovation we need and want to make to the shack to make it a place that 1. We can stay in for extended periods of time, living, schooling, working comfortably; and 2. Family and friends can come and enjoy for vacations of their own. There’s also the possibility we might want to make it a rental when we or family and friends are not in it. Currently, in its present condition, none of these things are really possible.  We have begun making contact with the people who can help us make this happen.  The men who make magic with concrete!!
But for now, we enjoy… we plan… and I threaten the children with their imminent and dramatic demise every time they leave food ANYWHERE for the immediate and aggravating accumulation of bloody ants!!

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beasley- eve of turning 10!, originally uploaded by tlcphotos.

This was supposed to be posted yesterday… but unfortunately, no internet available. So a day late, but no less significant!

I have a ten-year-old son who still tells me he loves me. Frequently. And the sentiment is, more often than not, accompanied by a big hug.
I am in love with this child.
When I stared upon his fat, red, bruised little face the first time, right where he’d been tossed upon my distended, exhausted belly, all wet and slimy… I felt an intense, complete, unadulterated and eternal love. It was a feeling unlike anything I had ever known before.
It was a love I could not have possibly comprehended before that day. Sure, I carried him for nine months. I knew he was coming. But really… I didn’t. There was nothing about his arrival I was prepared for. I was months shy of turning 30 and I still had no picture whatsoever of myself as someone’s mother. Jeez Louise, I was still grappling with my role as wife, and to some degree, daughter- OMG, and daughter-in-law?!?!- another title, another role, another responsibility, where I was afraid I would prove woefully inadequate, was just not on my limited radar.
Breezley Bean, you made me a mother for the very first time. And in those first very moments of your life outside my body, I was lost. Swirling in an emotional sea, one moment giddy with the feel of you in my arms and another alone in the shower in those early days, weeping. Crying for this little, precious person… a little personnow so vulnerable to the world. I could never protect you again like I had those brief nine months.
But now, ten so very short years later, I’ve somehow found my way as your mother… most days. But as a son, my eldest son… I have no idea how I got so lucky. You amaze me everyday. You are a fantastic brother- a natural leader to your two miscreant cohorts. You are the boy of my dreams, yet there’s no way I could have possibly dreamed you, whether those first moments or who you have become as a wonderful boy.
I look forward and feel so very blessed and grateful that I am able to be a part of who you will become.
Ten is huge, my boy! I can’t believe it’s come. I love you more than I can possibly say…. Forever and ever and always!!

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What do you get when you combine a leftover club sandwich and two tortillas filled with queso fundito, 8 hours forgotten in a steam bath of a car, and three days? Husband with a nasty, NASTY case of the runs!!!

Now, I know many of you out there are echoing my own sentiments when you exclaim “No shit, Sherlock!” But in his defense, 1) he is a man; 2) he was hungry; and 3) ohmigod…! I honestly can’t think of a number 3, because for crying out loud, who actually eats food that was forgotten in the tropical heat of the car- here in the tropics!- for many, many hours only to then have let it sit, albeit in the cool of the fridge, for yet, another three days?!?! Who eats that?!?! Who?!?! So… there really is no defense.

Oh, yes. It was bound to happen. This is a guy, who for our past two years spent in this part of the world thought it was “no problem” to drink from the tap… anywhere. Only to end up with his crazy American ass perched on the ceramic throne for the remainder of our trip, truly recovering only once returned home.

And while this time around he’s capitulated, drinking only from the big ol’ jug sitting in the middle of our kitchen, it seems his faith in the iron of his stomach has come between us and a really enjoyable holiday once again.

Anyhow… this will be the backdrop as we head to Merida today for the weekend. We’ll get a room in a cool, old hotel down in Centro and sightsee, eat and shop down in the thick of things. For someone who hates crowds, I do love the activity of Merida on the weekends. There’s always something going on, events, festivals, just leisurely milling in the old Centro. Oh, and a big band on Sunday afternoons, where one of the surrounding streets of the square is closed for couples dancing. Husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends of all ages, dancing to the oldies. These are real dances, ballroom style and the steps, by now, are instinct. It’s as though they’ve been dancing them forever. With each other. It’s really wonderful to watch.

We’ll dance along with them, too. We just don’t know any of the steps….

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threesome

Originally uploaded by tlcphotos

I’m just testing my flickr posting…. last week on our Caribbean. Oh, yes, it’s ours alright!!!

I loves my little tow-heads by the sea.

This was our annual week in Cancun.  Our place(yes, Auntie M., pics of ‘hacienda’ to follow shortly) is a few hours away on the Gulf coast.  Culture, ruins, Merida, the sea… oh yes and Costco and Walmart to boot… and did I mention there’s a Starbucks closer to our home here than back in Canada?  WTF?!?!

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