Evasive Maneuvers

President-elect, Barack Obama, promised many things during his historic run for the white house, and as January 20 draws near, Americans wait, with open wallets, for him to make good on those promises. Tax cuts, new jobs, green energy (and extra cash to pay for them), etc.

But there was one, little mentioned promise, that the company I and my husband have invested in is taking steps to side-step, for the coming year, at least. What was that promise, you ask? To double the dividend tax. "But wait", you say, "He said over and over that anyone making less than $250,000 a year would not have taxes raised, but lowered".

HELLO?! Did every voting citizen in this country forget that income tax is only one of many taxes you pay and that is the only tax he promised not to raise???

So, for those of us that are not counting on the myth of Social Security to be around when we reach that magic age, nor relied on an arm-twisting union thug to squeeze pensions out of a failing company to support us forever, but actually chose where to invest our own money and counted on dividends as part of our financial strategy - we're going to feel a bit leaner for the next 4 to 8 years (increased capital gains tax, estate tax, dividend tax, and even a 401K contribution tax).

But thanks to evasive maneuvers by one company we're invested in, for us, it will only be the next 3 to 7 years. They have decided to pro-rate 2009 dividends and pay them out before the end of this year, subjecting them to the nice, low 2008 tax rate and not the promised, doubled 2009 rate.

God Bless corporate America.
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Not a Creature Was Stirring....

Someone call Terminix! I have had an infestation - of over-active creativity. Again. Here's my defense. My children go to a private school where they get Godiva Chocolate Sampler boxes from their classmates as treats (which I promptly confiscate as being "way too good for children"). So what I lack in funds, I have to make up for in creativity. Hence, the perennial favorite, the Christmas candy cane mouse. Lots of them. One hundred and thirty three to be exact.

Hey, they're cute, cheap and easy.

(but enough about Sean's ideal prom date.)

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Dashing to the Mail

It's that time of year when many of us momentarily ditch our digital lives of email, texting, cellphones, online bill paying, and yes, facebooking, and we use that oldest of old forms of communication - the US Mail. Yes, it's Christmas letter time! The only time of year that I actually beat my children to the mailbox. I love this annual celebration of exchanging photocards and yearly wrap-ups with a little bragging thrown in gratis. And I noticed that most Christmas cards fall into one of three categories. So here they are:

The Shameless Boaster
"Little Johnny is an all-star baseball player destined for the MLB. He got all A's in his superior-brains-only classes, got the lead in the school play" and on and on it goes. Every child is a prodigy, the husband is a super successful corporate ladder climber, and the wife does triathalons and has her own scrapbooking or jewelry company. The family picture is a stunning portrait in matching outfits at an exotic location. Your smile, when you receive these letters, has a tooth grinding quality to it.

The Tom Clancy Letter
These Christmas letters usually come in multiple pages, small print. "We went to the park, Aunt Jody came to visit, we made sloppy joes for dinner and little Suzie lost a tooth. The next week...." You learn things you never knew you didn't want to know. These letters are accompanied by not one, but multiple pictures in various locations. It's like being forced to sit down on their couch and look through their family photo album while they prattle endlessly about themselves. If only there were a Cliff Notes version.

The Identity-Theft Paranoid
These are the kinds of Christmas letters that come from people in the witness protection program. They consist of a generic card that may or may not be signed with no personal word of greeting or acknowledgment. You have to look at the return address to see who it's from. There's no picture, no letter, nothing you could track them down with. All the same, they went through the trouble of putting a stamp on the envelope, so you feel a morsal of their love and holiday warmth.

But, no matter the category, I love getting Christmas cards and I devote an entire wall in my house to display them every year. As Christmas draws near the wall fills up and I try to leave them up for at least a week after I get the last one. Although if I waited for my sister, Becky, they'd be up until March. So run to your mailboxes, because my shameless bragging, Tom Clancy letter with our picture in matching outfits at the beach is on the way!
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A Wealth of Stupidity

I don't recall making any designer fashion purchases lately but for some unknown reason, I received a Tourneau catalog in the mail. For the mere mortals out there, Tourneau is an ultra high-end watch company that puts Gucci in Dior on the back pages for the lesser customers.

Within the glossy pages of this uber-elegant catalog were watches inlaid with gold, forged with platinum, encrusted with diamonds and/or bound with alligator leather all costing more than most people's houses. This little dandy is a Breguet Classique and can be yours at the triffling price of $214,000. No kidding.

My question is, if it takes brains to be wealthy (Paris Hilton aside) why would anyone spend that kind of money just so they can keep track of the time? Isn't high fashion just a big-time scam to dupe the ultra rich out of their money by making them believe ordinary items are worth many times their cost just because of a label or name?

I don't get it.

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I'm Coming Out

Don't Panic mom ! I simply would like to take a moment to say that we all have skeletons in our closets. The skeletons of which I speak of are those songs and artists that we may not be so eager to admit that we listen to or like.

I have decided to disclose this personal information about myself because I truly believe we all have someone we listen to that others find silly, outdated, or just downright repulsive.

So here is a list of artists and songs that I like and maybe a little sentimental reason behind why I am so loyal.

First and foremost Michael Jackson. He's creepy and strange with less than one percent of his original face left ( and the rest detachable) but gosh darn it , I just want to bust a move every time I hear his old school stuff.. what can I say.

Lenny Kravits ( If he ever shows up at my door and asks me to run off with him, I told Alex, he will just have to understand.)

Billy Idol - White wedding ( if you say you don't like Billy .. you are lying)
Bobby Brown - ahh junior high school
Cake - Short skirt long jacket/ every girl wants to be like the one described in this song ( with fingernails that shine like justice)
Black eyed Peas- my kids get psychotic when I sing their songs
Boyz 11 Men - oh baby !
The Carrs - okay when I was a kid they had a video on MTV and he was a fly, after that I was hooked
Kool and the Gang - She's Fresh ( that song is so fresh)
Pet Shop Boys - Eastern Boys Western Girls .. so hot
Wyclef Jean - sometimes I just want to move to Port Au Prince, make my hair into dreads and strum my guitar on the beach.
Duran Duran - Hungry Like the Wolf
Tom Petty - a little demented .. which is just how I like it
Sting/Police - Don't stand so close to me - The theme song of every good looking male high school teacher
Toto - Africa
Toni Tony Tone - I got nothin here
Flock Of Seagulls - I ran ( when one feels like running )
Rolling stones ( table dance!)
Wang Chung ( eighties party song yeah!)
New Edition
Earth Wind and Fire ( great for romantic moments .. which people my age no longer experience)
George Michael ( I liked him before he came out okay? Besides after he did his music just wasn't that good anymore anyways. )

I think I've embarrassed myself enough .. your turn. more...

Christmas Sprawl

Is it just me or is the Christmas season starting sooner and sooner? Time was, the official start of the Christmas shopping season was the day after Thanksgiving. On that day, my mom and sisters and I would start early in the morning leaving our digestively recovering males behind and hit the malls and shopping centers for door busters and one-day sales.

Now you see Christmas decorations, pre-lit trees, wrapping paper, gift tags, gift bags, ornaments, greeting cards, candy, and gigantic blow-up lawn creatures even before Halloween is over. Does anyone really buy these things that far in advance? I guess marketers are telling us that we must, so we do.

The trouble with this forward creeping Christmas season? My five-year-old has been asking how long until he can open his as yet non-existent presents since he spied the first 8-foot snow globe blaring "Jingle-Bells" at Walmart back on October 15th.

It's going to be a long season.

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The Very Foolish Caterpillar

What would Darwin have to say about this creature who's about to eat through the leaf he is standing on? Lucky for him (or not), he's been captured by my children who are attempting for the third time to observe the miraculous metamorphosis from caterpillar to butterfly. What I have learned from this experience is, I prefer the whimsical, poop-free, Eric Carle version.

The first time they attempted to observe this, we bought a kit complete with a tented butterfly cage, fake plastic flowers, and a little card you could mail in and receive a cup full of caterpillars in return. The problem was, the bottom of the tent never secured properly and we ended up with butterflies flying around the house. Pretty as their wings may be, I do not approve of insects flying at will in the place where I eat and sleep. So we set them free - after which the unpredictable Omaha Spring weather promptly dropped to 40 degrees. (That's the epilogue Carle never published.)

The second attempt involved a single caterpillar caught on the backyard crown-flower tree which is a favorite food of Monarch larvae. He was put in a store bought insect cage with plenty of fodder and he eventually made a chrysalis. But when he emerged, his wings never fully extended and their deformed shape prevented him from flying. We set him free in the backyard thinking the fresh air would encourage proper wing formation, and he was promptly eaten by a Myna bird (who promptly died because Monarchs are poisonous - ah, the circle of death).

This time we ditched all cages and tents and made an attractive arrangement of crown-flower sprigs in a vase and each leaf had a tiny caterpillar on it. I would add new branches when they needed more food and their green pellet poop rained down like a hail storm all over the shoe shelf. They chomped away, never straying from their food source although we had a couple Darwin-award winning appetite choices which landed creepers on the floor. One which I accidently stepped on and will now have to be added to my list of grossest things I done in my life. (Imagine stepping on a goo-filled gummy bear.)
Now I have chrysalises forming on my window as the glutted caterpillars seek something stable to attach to while they do their amazing transforming act. Third time's a charm? We'll see.... more...

City Mouse Country Mouse

I realize that I am living in one of the most beautiful places in the world. Not many places can compare to Alaska with it's beautiful mountains,forests, and Aurora Borealis. People move here from all over the world. They come to hike. They hike the mountains, they scale the rocks, they hike the glaciers, they eat cliff bars and shop at REI, they join cross country skiing clubs,they do not wear makeup, they drive jeeps or Subarus with racks on top. They live for the outdoors and tell stories of hiking McKinley or windsurfing in frigid waters, or of bear encounters while camping, they bag their own feces and pack it out. Get the picture?

I work at the Center for the performing Arts in ticketing and get paid squat, but I see the shows for free. Sometimes I stand backstage and watch from behind the curtain while a jazz musician plays the trumpet to a full house and I can feel my soul. I'll watch just about any show that rolls into town. We don't get much, Alaska seems to be the last stop as a shows popularity winds down around other parts of the country. I don't care. I watch operas, modern dance, ballet, jazz, symphonies, pianists, Irish folk music, and just about anything else.

Give me New York with all of it's noise and bustle and people everywhere who look different and speak different. Give me a place where I am at the top of the food chain and have no worries of being trampled by a moose or devoured by a bear who according to experts doesn't WANT to eat people. Throw a boa around my neck, take me out to a show and let's laugh all night.
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Social Networking and Your Potential Employer

On that same note Ray....

You may want to remove "cheating, stealing, embezzling" from your list of favorite hobbies on your MySpace/Facebook account considering that potential employers may be checking you out. Your profile picture of you gripping a liquor bottle, eyes glazed over might just send the wrong impression.

Really folks, just the fact that you have a MySpace/Facebook almost sends the impression that you are in fact a teenager (in your head). You're already screwed, so you might as well add the newest Puff Daddy song to autoplay on your page... you know you want to.

P.S. I need one more facebook friend to make 60 so if you don't mind.....
we don't have to talk or anything


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My Inner Adolescent

This week I embarked upon the strange world of modern, teenage "communication" by creating my own facebook page. I could just feel the adolescent acne and enthusiasm for Bon Jovi oozing back into my being. First I created a profile - little factoids about me, uploaded a picture of myself.... then what? I sat there wondering what my "status" and "wall" were. Then, all of a sudden, by no doing of my own, my 20-something cousin, from San Jose that I haven't seen in years was chatting with me. Like a young child leading an old blind woman, he taught me how to "update my status", "request friends", how to "poke" someone, and of course, how to write on someone's wall. What I didn't learn was, what is the point of it all?

Communication has rapidly degenerated, inversely proportionate to the development of technology. Email took the individuality of handwriting and doodles out of snail mail. Texting took inflection, tone, and proper grammar out of phone calls. And now we have facebook that takes interaction to an all new low where you simply write words into the cyber breeze and people may or may not respond. And when actual words are too hard to come up with, you can send a virtual poke, hug, chest bump, tickle or drop kick.

So why join the digital non-gab? For one thing, it gives your self-esteem a boost every time you log in and five more people want to be your friend. Of course most friends just sit in your friend collection without ever interacting, like a box of action figures or a pile of stuffed animals. Others may share virtual activities with you like going to a movie, going shopping, playing a game of virtual dodgeball, or they can even give you a virtual gift. It's like having an imaginary friend who talks back, sort of. And while it is great to reconnect with old friends from highschool and beyond, after an initial burst of curiosity about marital status, location, and number of offspring, you are reminded of why you never really bothered to keep in touch with this person all these years. And back to the stuffed animal pile they go.

Well, I shall continue to keep my facebook account for the time being. I shall update my status that only refers to me in the third person and occasionally write on my virtual friends' virtual walls. I do enjoy sharing and seeing photos. But I'm not sure the connecting benefits outweigh the addictive hours spent poking and jabbing virtual friends as a form of communication that is just that - a virtual illusion.
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