Summertime in the South

There is a moment every winter, without fail, when I wish for summer. It happens when my fingers are numb yet hurting trying to fumble with the car door handles, my teeth chatter uncontrollably and my bum is a solid (smallish? maybe?) block of ice. This state cause me to yearn for the two amigos of summer in the South: Heat & Humidity. (The names demand capitilization. Their presence is too strong for lower-case lettering.) Yes, Heat, with its image-blurring and skin-charring combines with the sickly smothering qualities of Humidity to produce a sensation quite unlike any other - that of drowning in fully breathable air. Still, when one is freezing, the hot-drowning seems nice. However, now that the weather is upon us, I have changed my tune.

Switch gears; a bit of back story: My grandmother was quite the fiesty woman, and I like to think that it was due to her hot-headed nature that she sweat so much. Summers were not her season. I can distinctly remember her sitting in a lawn chair in one of her (completely awesome) tunic blouses with pins in her hair and wiping her forehead. Well, I inherited many things from her: short legs, a quick temper, and the ability to sweat like the dickens even in the snow.

So today, when I had to clean out my car unexpectedly due to my boss needing a ride to work, I had to do the deed in my work clothes (heels and all!) and with my makeup already on. I should have worn a sweatband. I began the task looking reasonably pulled-together, and by the time I was through, I looked like a very warm drowned rat. I love many things about the South. Summertime is not one of them.

In the interest of this NOT turning into a blog simply about fashion (not that there's anything wrong with that - check out Sarah Jessica Parker's new ultra-chic and cheap line at Steve and Barry's. Shoes for $9.98?! I think I am definitely in trouble.) I would like to discuss some goings-on across the pond (so to speak) that have put one hell of a bee in my bonnet this week.


ITALY CIA KIDNAP TRIAL ADJOURNED
If you don't what this is all about here's the poop: 26 CIA agents and military personnel are accused of kidnapping a Muslim cleric off of the street in Milan in February of 2003 and taking him to a few US bases in Italy, then Germany, and finally ending up in Cairo, where he was "questioned" (read: tortured) and imprisoned for four years. At the time, he was suspected of recruiting fighters for Islamic groups, but there were no charges. The US gomernment, predictibly, has said that it will not extradite any of the 26 defendents (currently being tried in absentia), even if the request is made.


Ok. Now for the bee.


Since the prosecution used wiretaps on Italian agents, the defense is claiming that it broke the law and would potentially be revealing state secrets if they used to wiretaps as evidence to prosecute. The prosecution argues that "facts which jepordize the constitutional order cannot be covered by state secrecy laws." The constitutional court is set to rule on the issue in September, and the trial will continue on 24 October, provided the constitutional does not side with the defense. If they do, they are expeted to throw the case out.


Whether there is any personal repercussion for the 26 Americans involved or not, it is important that this trial continue. The world is not our playground to do with as we please, manipulating the population and deleting those we find unfavorable. Other countries (especially those in Europe!) have judicial systems, and they are not defunct; it's not necessary for the CIA to "police the world." And when they talk an innocent person and subject that person to torture and unnecessary imprisonment for no reason other than a hunch (however well-founded), they should be forced to defend their actions. If this had happened on an American street, say perhaps Washington D.C., and the agents and soldiers had been Russian, the newspapers and televisions would be plastered with headlines blasting the RUssian government and demanding the safe return of the kidnapped, regardless of his or her religious or political affiliations. Why? Because you can't pull that shit in America. Nor should you be able to anywhere else.

Warm fuzzies

Shoes!!!!

Oh my goodness I have found the best website in all the world. It sells shoes (!!!) and, since I am a size 8 in that department, I am officially declaring that size to be average. Now, in a size 8, the most expensive shoe will set you back $79.99 (Steve Madden Richh Pump in Black Patent, see below) and the cheapest shoe will cost you a mere

$6.99 (Miss Me Biscuit Flats in Black Suede, see below). However, the shoes I want are these and though they do only cost $23.99, they are still over $20 and therefore I have to follow my rule and give them Some Serious Thought. Piffle.

Oh, and by the way, should you get it in your head that it's a good idea to break up with anyone other than face-to-face (like, for example, TEXT MESSAGE) when you are almost adults, live in the same town and are both fully capable of driving, here is what you deserve:
Stupid douchebag.

Jeanine Payer

I found a website for beautiful jewelry and I think that after everyone makes some dough and can afford to drop a grand on a pretty necklace, they should definitely do so here.

At the aforementioned website, the jewelry is very simple and engraved with the most amazing quotes I have ever stumbled upon. For your reading pleasure (and hopeful enlightenment) I present some of my favorites here:

Our echoes roll from soul to soul,

And grow for ever and for ever.

-Alfred Tennyson

And a huge star is standing

Between the trunks of two trees

So tranquilly promising the fulfillment of dreams.

-Anna Akhmatova

Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye,

In every gesture dignity and love.

-John Milton

I believe in everything the heart can stand.

-Casey Haymes

The windows of my soul I throw

Wide open to the sun.

-John Greenleaf Whittier

The spirirt is the true self.

-Cicero

I would like to vent my frustration for a moment about driving. Of course, I am the perfect driver. (HA.) No, I realize that I have done and continue to do things that are dangerous and/or a hazard to others while driving, but I have never
(a) almost hit someone while parking;
(b) sped through a parking lot when there were several pedestrians about; or
(c) inexplicably stopped in the middle of the road to let another driver into traffic, but in so doing, creating mass confusion because there was absolutely no reason to stop the car.

In reference to (a), I was the "someone," the car was a huge beige monstrosity (not an SUV - a luxury sedan) and the driver was...old. As soon as I dodged the beige monstrosity (which ended up in the parking space like this, not once taking notice of me) I looked both ways and stepped into the parking lot lane (row? whatever you want to call it - where you drive in a parking lot) Suddenly, speeding around the corner, a navy blue monstrosity with a shorter old person behind the wheel was barrelling toward me. She slammed on the brakes and I was able to run to the safety of my car. However, upon exiting the parking lot, I had to turn left. There was no light, and the turn is notoriously difficult. I hate turning left, and I always have to psych myself up for this one, fully preparing myself for the worst (having to live in the parking lot for the rest of my life) so it confused the hell out of me when this minivan (driver: old) stops short in the middle of the road and looks at me. Then she gets all frustrated and starts waving her hands, apparently signaling me to go. I thought I had pulled out too far, and was perhaps blocking a lane. Nope. She was just being "nice."

Reason #247 I'm going to hell

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it before, but I laugh at people. A lot. And it's not that I'm laughing out of cruelty, necessarily, (because I'm just as likely to do what ever the "funny" person happens to be doing, perhaps even more so), but it's almost like an instinct thing; I'm laughing out of embarrassment for them. At least that's what I tell D when he scolds me for laughing to the point of tears at LPT for doing something completely clumsy and falling on her ass (or face, depending on the what she was trying to accomplish). For example, tonight she was taking a bathtub [sic] and was standing up, yelling at me for suggesting (horror of horrors) that we wash her hair. She ended her argument with "I don't wanna look at you, Mama!" (Yes, I am SO EXCITED about her teenage years. I'll be the parent locked in the bedroom with the Woodford Reserve on the nightstand.) With that, she turned, and promptly slipped due to the excessive amount (read: entire bottle) of SpongeBob bubble bath in the tub. Now, I panicked for a second, but then, with a huge splash, she landed squarely on. her. ass. And it took every ounce of self control in my body not to burst forth with howls of laughter. I think I snorted as I stifled the initial outburst and managed to eke out "Are you okay?" Thankfully, she was only shocked, not hurt, and all the bath toys had cleared the way for her little tush. I received a (deserved, I'll admit) scowl for my poor responses.

Movin' On Up

I assisted Miss A in a move yesterday. She packed up all her stuff and moved it from the smallest apartment I had ever seen to one even smaller - but his one had central air and a bathtub. And it did not face Bardstown Road. And even though she denies that this had any real weight in the decision, Mr. B lives a short bike ride away. (And we all know how convenient that can be.) But the apartment is very cute, and bright, and even though the building is creepy as hell and the hallway to take out trash or do laundry looks like something from a horror movie, I think it's perfect. More than one person can fit in her kitchen, and Mr. B even built her a computer! However, things were a bit sketchy there for awhile, when we had everything crammed in and nothing in place and it pretty much looked like this

LPT had a great time launching herself from one piece of furniture to the next, all the while trailing animal crackers behind her, as though she was making a last-ditch effort to be able to find her way back to the bed. By far the most obnoxious thing she did all day was discover and exploit thoroughly the horn on Miss A's bike - it's in the shape of a fox, and it squeaks. And after hauling stuff around, and unpacking, and wiping down, and putting down the invention of the devil himself, CONTACT PAPER, the last thing anyone wanted to hear was a frigging squeaky fox.

Of course, now the apartment looks awesome. Like this.

the joys of the wildlife

The other day I took out the trash at 7:30 in the morning in my (probably too short) jammies, racing against the garbage truck. When I came back in, I stood on the patio for a moment, surveying my plants (they're thriving! yay!) and then hopped back up the steps into the kitchen. I felt something strange on my foot; I looked down, and my feet and halfway up to my knees were covered in little black ants! Now, I know that little black ants cannot hurt me per se, but that doesn't mean I have to like 'em. Dammit. So, I hate to say it, but most of them died.