And the Winner Is...The Brown-haired Man Who Likes Chili

Hubby got up extra early so he could be at the polls when they opened this morning. When he returned before heading off to work, Princess daughter asked where he'd been. He told her he'd gone to vote for president of the United States, to which she asked "Did you vote for the man who likes chili or the man who likes tacos?"

Barely stifling his laughter, he said "The choices were John McCain, the man with white hair, and Barak Obama, the man with brown hair." "I know," she said, "Did you vote for the white-haired man who likes tacos or the brown-haired man who likes chili?" We later learned that this is the way her teacher explained the election process to the students - that both are good, but some people like chili and some people like tacos.

And now we're all going to find out how much we like chili.

You Can Lead a Voter to the Polls...

I helped at the mock election at Princess daughter's school today. It was fairly sophisticated - they had laptops set up with cardboard boxes placed around them to recreate the feeling of voter booths. I was there to help with the 1st-, 3rd- and 6th-graders, which was eye-opening and quite amusing.

When the 1st-graders came in, the 3rd-grade helpers had to be reminded to read to the voter the ENTIRE list of candidates, not just say "do you want to vote for XXX?" One 12-year-old was extremely disappointed that her vote wouldn't count in the real election. When asked if she needed help, another voter said "I just know I vote Republican all the way down."

Since children often speak what is going in their minds, several enlightened me as to their decision-making process: "I like that name," or "I like the name of the party - reform - that's a good thing," or "I think he's pretty cute," or "I've heard of him," or "I like his signs." Hopefully, adults will take a more informed approach to their decision-making, but you never know...

Perhaps the most interesting part of the election is the two county proposition questions. I had done advance voting, so I was familiar with the language, but even as an adult, had to read them a couple of times to make sure I was voting for what I intended. (Which raises another issue as a communicator - why can't they write these things so the average person can understand???) So I spent a good part of the time with students explaining these two questions, which presents the challenge to not insert my own bias - try it some time, it's a good exercise.

In summary, the first proposition asked if voters were okay with judges continuing to be appointed by a commission or if they wanted to have more say in the process by voting for the judges. The second proposed a sales tax increase that would raise the sales tax in our county to 8% to help fund $15 million for medical research at three local universities.

On that second proposition, one astute 6-th-grader said "Wow, that's a hard decision. I mean, I don't want things to cost more, but it's important to do research and find cures to things." No one could have summed up better the election process - it's all about trade-offs. No decisions are easy, no outcomes are simple, nothing is straightforward. The best we can do is choose the issue that most centrally speaks to us and our values and vote from there. Happy voting on November 4th!

The Day After Halloween

Many of you may have already read this - it was written the day after Halloween 2007. My predictions are coming true, but she still held my hand this year. :-)

Day after Halloween

Leaves of gold and orange bathe in the warm sunshine, reflecting God’s goodness. Ever notice how every season has a beauty? Just when you think “this is my favorite,” another color, another hue enters your line of sight, and that season moves to first.

As I crunch in the leaves the day after the night dedicated to candy, I notice remnants of the night before…a red feather off a costume. Was she a diva with a boa frivolously thrown across her shoulder? A cackling witch with feathers peaking from her pointed hat? Or was she a roaring 20s girl with far too much make-up for her age – “Can I ple-e-e-ase wear lipstick, too?”

Next year it will be different. "Can I please go with my friends? We’re dressing as rock stars and boys are coming, too." Next year you will have to hide in the shadows, no holding hands. She won’t sing about Halloween at the top of her lungs as she runs down the street. She’ll want to go to every house, two blocks won’t be enough. Next year when she declares “trick or treat” at the opening of a door, there will be no “twicks” and no “tweats.” She won’t show you every sweet she gets. She’ll barely know you’re there.

Then on the ground lay Superman’s sweatband, a miniature version for a mighty superhero. Did he struggle over which man he wanted to be? Did he look at his muscles, hold in his stomach and stick out his chest? "I want to be strong like daddy!" Did he run through the house with his cape out behind him and jump from his bunkbed, sure he could fly? Next year it won’t be like that. No superheros, no good guys, no conquering evil. Next year is gruesome and gross, disgusting and scary. Next year he’ll go and you pray he’s okay. Next year he’ll hang with some dudes, you’ll wonder what’s a costume and what’s just clothes.

You’ll try to hold on, try to grasp those fleeting moments of childhood. You take photos and laugh. You know you won’t forget how they look tonight, how they sound, what they say. But as you tightly grip, they go on and you’re left with a sweatband in your hand…a red feather floating to the ground…

Pumpkins, pumpkins, we like pumpkins

Last Saturday, Princess daughter and I set out with a girlfriend and her daughters on a pumpkin patch excursion. Beautiful fall day, leaves beginning to turn, we headed to the country.

Our first stop was at a very crowded cider mill, which translated, means "all children must jump in a germ-laden bouncy house and climb through the inflatable obstacle course for several dollars per person or you will be tortured by whining all the way home." You're only young once...



The mill's idea of a pumpkin patch was a bunch of store-bought pumpkins piled on haybales that you picked up, stood in line FOREVER to weigh, and paid too much for. After waiting in line for lunch and munching to the twangs of banjos and dulcimers, we decided we'd try a REAL pumpkin patch we saw back down the road a fur piece (remember, we're in the country).

Once we pulled off pavement onto gravel, we knew we were about to hit pumpkin jackpot! Ten minutes later, we spied the real pumpkin patch. Most pumpkins were about $6 each and there were plenty to pick from - in the field - still on the vine (of course, during the romantic idea of all this countrified living, we forgot about the prickly vine part and hadn't brought gloves.)



The girls started out strong - intent on finding the perfect pumpkin.



But then, at some point, I looked around, and my girlfriend and I were the only ones in our group actually looking for pumpkins. The three shortest members of our entourage were sitting in the middle of the dirt road having a tea party.

Could we BE any older?

Recent comments from Princess daughter indicate that she thinks we're old. And she's probably right. By the time she's in high school, we will be several generations removed from the technology she lives and breathes every day.

"I don't want to walk to school this morning," she said recently. "We won't -it's raining," I replied. "But dad had to walk to school when it rained. Oh yeah," she suddenly thought, "they probably didn't have cars back then."

"I know a new song," she announced proudly at the end of one school day. "There's Sunday and there's Monday; there's Tuesday and there's Wednesday..." she began to the tune of The Addams Family TV show. "There's - what's next, mommy?" As I easily continued on-tune with "There's Thursday and there's Friday, and then there's Saturday. Da-da-da-dum. Snap. Snap. Da-da-da-dum. Snap. Snap." "Hey - how do you know that song!?" she yelled. "Well, the tune is from an old black and white TV show that daddy and I used to watch when we were growing up." "Black and white? What's that?" she asked.

Growin' up girl

It's happening. She's growing up. Princess daughter warms my heart most days now. We've had some great conversations lately as we've read the Americal Girl Kit books and discussed what a "Depression" is (hmmm...), what it means to be poor, the importance/unimportance of money, and taking personal responsibility for actions and decisions.

And the values we've been talking about and "enforcing" - and reinforcing - over the years show glimmers of paying off. Princess daughter was chosen for "Hot Seat" the other day. That's where everyone in the room says one positive thing about the person chosen for the "hot seat." Princess daughter was very upset that only three children said something about her personality. "Most of them said something about my clothes or my hair. Who cares about that?! I want to hear about my personality!" She exclaimed. Wow! I had to do a quick check and make sure she was still five.

For many reasons, last summer we moved from a more urban area to a more suburban neighborhood. This move meant Princess daughter could attend public school, which meant classes with more population diversity. I am heartened to see her hug children of various ethnic backgrounds and races without a second thought that they don't look like her ("no one looks the same!" I've heard her say). She talks about the beauty of her friends' skin ("it's like they have a beautiful suntan all the time!" she exclaims in wonder). And she tells me about playing soccer with the boy in her class with special needs because "he can't throw very well, but he is a great kicker, and everyone else likes to throw."

She's not perfect, she's human. But the next time someone says "grow up! Stop acting like a child!" I'll wonder if that's so bad.

Talkin' to myself

I'm in a women's Bible study that is doing an interesting study about what we say to ourselves, how damaging (or encouraging) that can be, and the scriptural things with which we should replace those thoughts.

I have never studied self-talk, or even thought about, how damaging it can be. As the author puts it, it can even determine your "destiny," so to speak.

The book we're using is "Self Talk, Soul Talk" by Jennifer Rothschild. We're just getting started, but already, it has opened the door for great group discussion and great personal reflection. Jennifer has been blind since she was 15. We all struggle with negative self-talk, but I would think a physical challenge such as losing your sight would magnify the amount and level of negativity one might heap on herself. So Jennifer's insights are particularly compelling in light of knowing her challenge.

I suspect a lot of women could benefit from the lessons to be learned in this book.