Home on Fumes

I'm kinda hinky about religion. I'm trying to work on it, but this general outlook results in a habit of not making bargains with G*d.

I do, however, on occasion find the need to enter into small agreements with inanimate objects and small children and pets who have no possible way to understand the ramifications of the covenant I'm making with them.

When my adorable, little puppy ran into the middle of a flag football game being played by a dozen hot guys down on the Mall that day in my 20's, I promised then that I would forgive the future destruction of one item that she was sure to undertake.

When my youngest child behaved incredibly in the ER waiting room for hours on that visit when he was two? Well he doesn't know it yet, but he has one free pass on breaking curfew when he's a teenager.

I forgot to get gas before leaving for home tonight (what is it about the gauge that it always ends up in my blind spot?). I had to be home in twenty minutes. There was no time to stop and even to make it in that time I'd have to take the HOV lanes (there are no gas stations or exits on the HOV lanes).

The needle was on empty as I pulled out of the garage. The little orange light was on.

I really didn't want to run out of gas. I didn't want to stand in the cold. I didn't want to wait for AAA to bail me out. I DID NOT want to hear it from my husband.

So I made a bargain with the car.

She has more than 100,000 miles on her. I tend not to give her the respect she deserves. I often let my eyes stray to other cuter, younger cars.

But I made a bargain with her.

My little car got me home tonight. I wasn't late, and more importantly I didn't have to listen to my husband rant about my inability to pay attention to the gauge (or the clock).

So I will stick by my promise. Next time I'm tempted dismiss that little car, I'll remember she got me home on fumes.

A Thought From Game Night

I'm sure playing cards were purposefully created to be difficult for children to hold in a fan to keep them from losing all their money at poker.

Turns Out I'm Sugar Mamma to the CEOs

This bailout makes me want to storm executive suites and board rooms with a wooden spoon in one hand a pair of leather gloves in the other.

WHO THE HELL DO THESE CORPORATE CEOs THINK THEY ARE?!!!!!!!!!!

Today we hear that Citigroup is buying a corporate jet for $50 million. How much was the check they just received that included my hard-earned tax dollars?

Last week after Bank of America took over Merrill Lynch, we heard that Merrill's CEO (who no longer has a job now) had just spent $1 million renovating his office--most likely having to put his designer on hold while he groveled to Congress for some of the bailout funds.

These are just two small examples out of hundreds I could go and research if I wasn't so irate.

I'm a dyed-in-the-wool liberal. I believe the government does have to help prevent hard-working citizens (and their children) from living below the poverty line--or even at the poverty line.

BUT I CAN'T SUPPORT THIS BAILOUT FOR ONE MORE MINUTE!!!

I don't believe GM employees should lose their jobs. I don't want entire areas of our country to turn into rust belts. But they're about too.

And you know who needs to take responsibility?? The CEOs and other corporate leaders who drove their companies into the ground.

If you ask me, it would be too kind to string them up by their wrists, slather their armpits in pollen and let some bees loose.

When their personal bank accounts and stock holdings have been zeroed out, then--and only then may they be welcome on my doorstep (and they better be on their knees) to ask for help.

Every day we're hearing about more stores closing, friends losing jobs, companies laying off employees.

The bailout money isn't stopping any of this. When will citizens rise up and scream NO MORE?!

I could rant here forever, but I think I've already been incoherent enough for one day.

I blame it on my anger.

It's fierce, it's white and it's hot.

Hmmmm...sorta like me.