black and white

Nine or ten years ago I was working in a project that was at best barely squeaking by. We had no computers, not even a voicemail system and we had to write everything by hand. We had many, many people living under one roof, all in rooms that were too small and with way too many kids running all over the place. It was non-stop chaos, and we had to work our asses off and usually with four or five kids hanging on you at a time and in spite of it all I absolutely loved that place.


One night there were two of us on swing and we were hanging out in the staff office when this guy who'd been a problem for weeks came in. It was obvious he was high and he stormed into the office angry for a reason I can't recall. I remember feeling cornered, I was behind a desk against a wall and he was pacing and yelling in front of the only door. My co-worker stood up and came over next to me and just as he did the guy came around the desk and lunged. His fist came towards my head as my co-worker jumped in front of me. Immediately I was pushed aside and the two of them were on the floor. I called 911 while the the guy was still assaulting my teammate, fists were flying and a couple of other clients got into the mix trying to pull the guy away. This went on for a while and was actually quite scary when the cops came storming in, cops who immediately grabbed my friend and threw him up against the wall leaving the other guy heaving on the floor.


My friend see, he was black and the guy who was trying to kill us was white.


You've got the wrong guy, it's him you want I remember saying and they threw him against the wall too. After a few minutes of me freaking out they eased up on my friend while he, the one who probably saved my life that night was silent, he's facing the wall and he's not saying a damn word. The cops spend a few more minutes sorting it out and talking to witnesses and they let my friend go and arrest the other guy and drag him off.

My friend is bleeding but he's one of those tough guys who won't let you make a fuss. I got some ice for his face and we call our supervisor and report what happened, she tells us to send him home and even though he protests we all know this was too much for one night and he needs some space. So as we wait for another teammate to come in we process what happened, I tell him what he knows, that if he wouldn't have been there that dude could have killed me and then I say it out loud I can't believe those cops, they went for the black guy automatically and he was silent for a minute before saying no matter how much people act like times are changing it's still the same and we sit silent for a minute, lost in a world I could never really understand and he could not escape.

twenty four years two months nine days

First phone call of the morning stops me in my tracks. I got your name from the story in the paper. One of the men in the article, I think he's my biological father. I haven't seen him in over 20 years, in fact I've never seen him because my mom was pregnant with me when he left. But I know it's him. That's my father. Please. I've been looking for him for so long.

Holy shit. So we talk some more and because I've got my own rules to follow I tell her I'll try and if I do I'll pass along her number but I can't give her any more information than that. But inside I'm freaking out. I have to find this dude. Before we hang up she asks me why we have so many homeless people where I live and I ask her what state she's in and I tell her a whole lot of folks without homes live there too. She tries to wrap her head around this, it's become personal now and she's read it in black and white.

So I strike out in the first logical places, he's been gone for months. So I do some deeper digging, I contact public entities and some private, I beg and I tell them about the call. I say I know it's unusual but what if it's true. 20 years is a long time. Folks concede. They go one extra mile. Eight hours later I hit paydirt. Someone knows him and will get him to call me. The underground community moves a mountain.

10 minutes later my phone rings. I am all of a sudden awkward, is this welcome news or not and I don't know so I just say it. A woman, she called me and said she's your daughter and she's been looking for you for 20 years. Yes, he says. Yes. Quiet. He's gruff and I can't read him, not even close. Is this ok I ask and he says I've been looking for her too. Nothing else. I tell him I have her number and he fumbles for a pen, I can hear it now, he's nervous, he can't find a pen and he's nervous.

Take your time, man. I am leaning back in my chair with an enormous grin. I've been looking for you all day so I'm cool, just take your time. Thank you he says. I want more but I don't get it and as we hang up I know it's none of my business but for 8 hours I've owned this, I've single point focused on finding this man.

I happen to be heading off to meet some workmates for dinner, I arrive at the noisy bar late and grinning, I say you won't believe this fucking story and they listen and applaud and we drink a toast. As we are waiting for the table my phone rings and I look down, it's the guy calling me back.

I grab my phone and run outside. I answer it and he says I had to call you back and thank you and tell you I just called her. We just spoke after all this time and I was so nervous and I'm just calming down now. She doesn't remember that we met when she was a baby, she doesn't think we ever met but we have.

Well, I said, I'm crying a little bit now, she said it's been twenty years.

It's been twenty four years two months and nine days. I've counted every single day since I've seen her last but she doesn't know that. I have grandkids. I can't believe it, I can't believe this is happening. Thank you. And he goes on to tell me how this happened, the sad and painful journey and the terrible mistakes he's made and all of it together and we talk of second chances, of hope, of what can be done now and perhaps how we can help and we hang up with a promise to connect again in a few days. And then I turn and look at all the people going in and out of the restaurant, the glamour girls and the kids, the older couple on a date in their fancy car running the valet in the heat and I lean back and smile because today was a really, really good day.

hot luck

It has been hot here, so very hot. It was 95 degrees in our house the other day, I even noticed my chapstick melting inside it's case. I am not a fan of this sort of global warming heat but I suppose this is the beginning of the prices we'll all pay.

Our hike this weekend was fantastic. We swirled down and around a creek and saw a million lizards and brought enough water and M complained 50% less than usual. Things are coming to a head, we are getting ready for some enormous changes and it's almost scary how well things are falling into place. After our hike we were all busy, M wrecking havoc J cleaning out a closet and me making some food when I saw J staring out a window. I asked him what he was thinking and he looked at me smiling and said I just can't believe how lucky we are and I nodded and smiled because I've got some trouble believing it too That doesn't mean everything is perfect as it hardly ever is but it does mean that our hard work is starting to pay off in fits and starts.

I've got a review up at my other spot about some sweet little girl barrettes. Stop by before you go because I'm raffling a couple of them off and you know you want in on the action.

making it

M: I want a baby in my tummy.
Me: Well, you can't have a baby in your tummy right now but you can when you get older
M: Why?
Me: You need to be older because your body needs to change a little bit and then you have to decide you want a baby in your tummy and then you make one (dammit i can't believe i said that wait for it now count with me people you all know what's coming 3, 2, 1.....)
M: How do I make a baby?
Me: Dude, you are three. I'm just not prepared to get into this right now. (Whatever, call me a chickenshit, at least I was honest and didn't use the phrase twinkle in my eye)
M: Ok. Orange is my favorite color.
Me: Me too, baby. Me too.

i think it was the fourth of july

He's in the park, she said, this nameless woman calling out for help. I see him there every day. Every day for years and I don't know what to do. He's always in the park. This isn't right. Can't someone help? I know this cry, someone somewhere needs to do something. Someone. Somewhere. Do Something.

I hear this and pause. Search and rescue crosses my mind, the notion of a St. Bernard with little barrel flask around his neck, I think of snow for some reason which makes no sense. One of us, one of our tribe who never says no he goes and he goes cheerfully. Let me just check it out and see what's what, he says. And he goes to that park.

A few hours later there's an update. This man in the park. No shit, he's been outside a very long time. But for some reason today is our lucky day. He comes with my friend and he goes inside. He's eating, my friend says. He sure is hungry. I've got him settled and he'll stay here for the weekend and then we'll go from there. But you know, it's crazy. He's a vet and he says he's been outside for 20 years.

And for some reason I feel like crying.

This was a week ago and yesterday I meet this man from the park, my co-worker brought him to meet me and with a look he tells me silently it's the guy, the guy from the park. He's bronze, so bronze he's leather, his eyes are kind and his teeth are shattered. I shake his hand and tell him I'm so happy he's with us and he shakes mine back and agrees. The three of us talk for a few minutes and I like this guy, I like him a lot. There's a sense you get and your first instinct usually sticks, because there are no pretenses unless there are and you spot those a mile away and it's fine but then it's different and there were no pretenses here. As he leaves he surprises me and leans over and hugs me and so I hug him back this bronze man from the park and I have to ask why did you finally come inside after all this time? And he looks at me and says well you know because he asked me to. And I can't help but wonder if that meant in all that time no one else had.

the worst holiday. ever

I was incredibly disappointed by the proposition of and reactions to the bullshit gas tax holiday over the last few weeks. So much so that I've already ranted over at MOMocrats about it but I can't help myself from talking about it here too. I can't believe anyone really thinks this is a good idea. The fact that most Americans would save about $30 all summer long (if indeed, they filled and filled and filled their tanks) while costing the government millions of dollars and will hurt individual states with a loss in revenue for highway and bridge repairs as well as the jobs associated with that work makes this a no-brainer. And yet somehow some folks still think it's a good idea.

Why do we think we are entitled to cheap gas? America pays less for a gallon of gas than many other countries around the world and yet we are still batshit over it. But we are complaining about the wrong thing. We should be complaining that we are not developing strategies to replace oil consumption fast enough. We should complain that car manufacturers are not producing affordable hybrids. We should complain that public transportation is not sufficient in many parts of our nation which forces the highways to be clogged with individual drivers. We should complain that our politicians treat us like infants, tossing spare change at us to shut us up. Time and time again we are watching these bad decisions being made, ideas designed to bandaid a severed leg. The days of low gas prices and clean air are over. It's time to buckle down and find comprehensive solutions for lowering emissions, reducing oil dependency, and lowering our carbon footprint. I know you know this already and it's one of the many reasons we are blog-kin but I'm ranting just the same.

And for the record, we have two cars. But like many others we are changing how we use them. We walk whenever possible. We carpool. It's not enough, and we are working towards a longer term solution that involves only one car and even less driving, but we won't be able to do that for a few more months. Living (and having to leave your house to go to work) in this society generally means you have to transport yourself somehow. I see how we've gotten ourselves into this, but this sort of pandering only adds insult to injury. So I'll pay the gas prices and I'll do so without complaint because I am complicit in this. I am a part of the problem as an oil consumer and I am complicit in this. And I would gladly pay more in taxes instead of less if it meant it was going into a fund to reduce oil consumption nationwide. Now that would be a holiday I could get behind.

So quit insulting us already. We already feel bad enough as it is for falling for all of this bullshit in the first place.

18,000 people. China, oh China. And Burma. Burma where people are dying first from the cyclone and now from the lack of sustenance. China. And tornadoes. Here. We aren't talking about it. Why aren't we talking about it? We see the images on the TV and we don't know what to say, we are preoccupied with our lives, who will win the primary, what should I eat, how will we manage to pay our bills. People are dying. There isn't enough food and 1 billion people live on less than $1 a day and they cannot afford commodities. They. Cannot. Feed. Their. Children. And we watch and we watch and we watch and we wonder what's coming next or when it's finally coming for us because it's out of our hands really, we are that small.

China, Oh China. Entire families buried alive. We are small.

gingerly

We had a friend over for dinner and I was all set to make this cauliflower curry thing and realized I'd forgotten the ginger. (yes, Jess, I said ginger. It's the first time I've ever bought it if you want to know the truth not that anyone cares but you know, perhaps it's something I should have purchased before now is all I'm saying). So I ran over to the store and as is often the case I noticed an old dude out front asking for money.

Folks were giving him a wide berth, nothing unusual there but it always hurts me a little to see it. So when I get close he turns to me excuse me miss but do you have any spare change and I give the woman who was right in front of me ignoring him a raised and hairy eyebrow and said sure I do. So I stop and pull out my wallet and $5 falls out and so I hand him that and his eyes go big. Thank you miss, thank you. And Happy Mother's Day. Seeing as I'm childless at the moment I smile how did you know I'm a mom? And he smiled, he had a lovely smile and kind eyes you are beautiful, you must be a mom and with my dirty clothes and just back from hiking hair I laugh and pull out one of my cards if you want to try something different than this, give me a call. I might be able to help and he takes it and reads my name out loud and looks me in the eye maybe I will. Maybe I just will.

While I was paying for the damn ginger I thought of something else I wanted to tell him but when I went out he was already gone, either he'd gotten the cash he needed already or someone had shooed him away and I felt a tiny sting, I will never fully grow accustomed to how folks slip away and you never hear from them again except for those occasional times you do.

dreams of this mother

This Mother's Day many of us will celebrate who we are, what we've done, how we've mothered. This holiday, while also and sadly commercially manufactured into another avenue for production and consumption is also a good time for reflection in the past and also for how we want to embrace our mothering in the future.

I am the mother who advocates for affordable housing. Of all the gifts I can give my daughter, besides love and affection and safety and fun and adventure the greatest gift I can give her is awareness. Awareness that not everyone has the same life as she does and that there are things we can do to fix it.

My child has the opportunity to spend a lot of time at shelters and housing programs. She's played with children who sleep in the streets or in abandoned buildings or on the floor. She's shared meals with children who haven't eaten regularly in days or weeks or sometimes months. And every time without fail, she will ask me why. Why doesn't she have a place to live? How long can she live with you? How does she sleep in such a big room? How does he get new toys? And from that place, she begins to think of solutions. Maybe I can give him my blankets. Maybe we should give our food to them. Maybe they can find a home today. Her awareness is soaring but it's a sad sort of flight, one that means she'll witness the suffering without knowing how to truly reconcile it.

When thirteen million children (1 in 6 kids) live in poverty in America and child poverty on the rise since 2000, this is reality she will have to face. When 1 million of these children are without a home in a given year and homeless families are the fastest growing segment of homelessness in the US today and it is mainly attributed to the lack of affordable housing and the fact that rents continue to skyrocket while wages do not all leads me to believe this crisis is not going to be resolved anytime soon.

But it doesn't have to be this way. It is unacceptable that we have not prioritized raising minimum wages and creating affordable housing. John Edwards had a plan to end poverty nationally within 30 years but since he's left the race we've lost our advocate and without committed leadership at the highest levels of office we will never be able to end one of the most horrible social ills in our generation. Without addressing these basic needs our communities will not be able to thrive and that ultimately affects all of us.

So on Mother's Day and on every day I promise to keep dreaming about a country where every child has a safe place to sleep and food in their bellies. Because this is the future I wish for my child, the one where all of her friends can know the same basic rights as she does.

Crossposted at MOMocrats where we are dreaming about many, many important things today.

Dreams of A Mother

We at MOMocrats invite you to join us as we post about Mothers on Mother's Day. If you want to join us all you have to do is write a post and link it to MOMocrats or send it to me and I'll make sure it is linked to our site. If you want to learn more you can read about it at MOMocrats too. But in short, we are asking you to join us in writing about Mother and Mothering. And you don't have to be a mother to get in the mix. Or for that matter, even a chick.

We are hoping to hear about:
Your dreams as a mother for your own kids;
Dreams your mother had for you, and how you fared;
Dreams of another mother you know who is fighting to make the world a better place.
Or whatever you choose, it's up to you. Join us.

PS. If you type the word Mother enough times you will start to think you've spelled it wrong. Trust me on this.

April Just Posts

I was asked to be a panelist in a townhall meeting recently where folks had the chance to air their concerns about how the foreclosure crisis is affecting them and their neighborhoods and to seek help if they need it. Feeling a bit out of my element I approached this carefully, I am more comfortable in the belly of the beast and these folks while close were still standing near the edge, some closer than others but not yet swallowed whole.

As I gazed around the room I saw it was filled almost entirely with people of color, grandmothers and little babies and everyone in between. They all sat anxiously and with flashes of humor, this portion of the city was clearly it's own community and for better or for worse they came together as one. The questions were expected, ranging from what we could do to help them (and there are some things) to what to do about the abandoned homes popping up all around them, the vandalism and trespassing and concerns for their streets. And while the folks there to help were helpful indeed I was more struck by their faces, the earnestness of these hard working families, the immigrants and the working poor and the folks who've lived in this neighborhood forever and call this their home and how this is happening all over our nation, good people are scared and the belly widens, hungry for more.

The April Just Posts
Alejna with NYC Goddam
Alpha Dogma with Yearning for Lyin'
Babyslime with Shampoo free
Beck with Get out Yer Cheque books
Brenda Dayne with You and me, baby.
Chani with Mad dogs and mean girls
Gina with For shame, 40 years and we still have so far to go and For children
Gwen with Feeling Ranty
Jen with Flags of our brothers
Kyla with The speech
Mad with Kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight
Mir Kamin on blogher with Earth Day Every Day: Raising Eco-Conscious Kids
MOMocrats with MOMocrats exclusive: Obama answers readers questions and And now for something completely different: John McCain unveils his plan for healthcare
Painted Maypole with taking stock on Earth Day
Sage with At Least the Issue is Getting Some Press and My Real Problem
Sin with Benediction
Sober Briquette with Three Month Check-up
Suzanne Reisman on blogher with Which Paper Towel Would You Buy, or Why are Household Products Commercials Stuck in 1961?, How Do You Feel About Diet Foods?: Some Feminist Navel-Gazing, Keep Your Open Source Away from My Tits, Or I'll Open Source You, Buddy! and US Companies and Politicians: Paying Women Less for the Same Work is A-OK as Long as It is Kept Secret
No Caption Needed with Have we no decency?
One Swell Foop with Her heart beats in me
Thor with A Reform is a correction of abuses...
Lia with Fair Pay
The Reluctant Housewife with It's not all about bra burning and man hating

Thank you for another lovely Just Post Roundtable. We are here every month featuring posts about social issues and social justice and we welcome anyone who wants to join us. All you have to do is write or read and send me what you find. And don't forget to stop by Mad's and Su's before you go to see what they are talking about this month. Lastly, I want to dedicate this month's Roundtable to the lovely Hel who was our fourth leg of the table for a good long while and has graciously bowed out in order to care for the many beautiful and important things she's tackling in real life.

things lost and found

I saw him wheeling out as I walked in. Folks are swarming out, it's time to hit the streets. He's struggling with his bag and he's using one of his feet to propell his chair forwards, his shoes are tattered and his pants are stained. He looks up and sees me coming and stops rolling you work here? Yes sir. (Oh, hell yes sirree, yes sir I do).

Him: I've seen you around, up at that other place.
Me: Yep, I get around.
Him: Where's that kid of yours, the one who runs all over the place.
Me: Ah. Well, she's at school. Can't get much done with her here. But I'm smiling, I love that she's a part of this somehow, that she sees it and it sees her.
Him: I'll say.
Me: So, where you off to?
Him: Same as usual, go try and find a place to rest till you let me back in.
Me: It's awful, isn't it. I wish you didn't have to stay here at all.
Him: I had a place once, a really great place.
Me: Tell me about it (I stop and sit, my day can start a few minutes late or better stated this is a good way to start the day)
Him: It was great, out in the middle of the woods. Me and my old lady, we had some goats and chickens, I built a lot of it by hand. We loved that place.
Me: Did you have a garden? I bet you had a garden. What happened?
Him: We did have a garden. We grew all kinds of stuff. There was an accident. My wife was killed. I was hurt. Eventually I lost the house. I lost everything that ever mattered.
Me: And now you are here.
Him: And now I am here. But I'm still alive. You all let me stay here and that makes it easier too. But I miss it. Her. All of it. But I'm still alive. I touch his shoulder. I don't know what to say because of course. Of course.

And with that we parted ways, his bag a bit more secure now, he heads out to the sun.

one deer 7 banana slugs and a dead mole

It was our first deer. We walked around the corner of the trail and I spot her standing so lovely and inquisitive on the path. I grabbed M and lifted her up look baby, it's your first deer and her eyes light up but the deer wasn't one for adoring glances so off she went into the trees and out of sight. The day was near perfect, a bit chilly but we were on a lovely wooded 3 mile loop and M was rocking it without complaining, not even once.

We had a picnic by the creek, sitting on the rocks and it's there M finds her first banana slug and in quick succession 2-7, her exclaimations triumphant and resounding each time, only a toddler can find the same energy for the same thing over and over and yet she reminds me in those moments of what matters most. I pause on the rocks and dip my fingers in the cold water and I think of the water of my youth and of where I am going and for a brief moment it all feels crisp and clear and perfect too.

The mole was not so lucky, we found him belly up. Moles are extraordinarily cute, aren't they all puffy and grey and little fat flipper feet. We spent the rest of the hike with M needing to figure out how it died, how it died in a way that wasn't that bad. Maybe he was old mama, maybe that was it or maybe he fell out of the tree. I really don't think anyone hurt him mama do you? We debated these harsh realities until suddenly it was forgotten, the mist rising over the mountains and the promise of a snack at the end of the trail proved too alluring even for the mole.

And you'll all be proud to hear that for the first time since we've begun this hiking journey we did not run out of water. Finally and for the love of all things holy it's about time we are finding our groove.

Before you go hop over to my review blog and read about an eco-friendly game for the little ones. Because if we must consume, at least we can do it with kindness and less plastic. And lastly, oh people my people, send me your Just Posts to girlplustwoATyahooDOTcom, our April Roundtable is coming up soon.

running to stand still

I blog to create a record for M. I blog for community, and I find it's the kind of community that seems real and tangible and also distant and far away. In real life I am busy, really busy. I am a mother and a partner and I am in charge of a bunch of things at work. I wake up early and I start running, running to get out the door and drop off M, run my whole day long inside shelters and the walls of bureacracy and the simple heartbreaking reality of our humanity and then I run back to get her, rush to spend the few hours loving and feeding and bathing and reading and cleaning and then I fall into exhausted sleep, only to wake up and repeat it again. Blogging, for better and for worse has become a sanctuary, one I visit and one where I linger. One that takes me from other things and uses the bits of energy I've got left. The upside perhaps is I fill it with this and not with TV. But still. And then there are the Just Posts and MOMocrats and the occasional review and once a year, hell, even a party. And then, wow, I said yes to speaking at Blogher, on a panel about using our voices for good. How could I pass that up, a chance to talk about the Just Posts, our little Roundtable that I love so much.

I said yes to all of this and yet it's a pressure, to keep the balls flying here and in the rest of my life where the balls weigh even more. I do this somehow unconsciously and I see it and somehow I choose to let it ride. So then this is my refuge, a place to sit and knock on some doors and see how you are, sometimes doing a good job and sometimes not so much. And it's part of who I am, this running and yet very soon we'll be changing our whole lives and the stillness or the better said differentness will confront me and I will wonder, I do wonder what that will then mean in terms of who I think I am.

it's a small world after all

Today Julie is talking about uninsured children and she's teaching me a lot over at Moms Speak Up. Did you know that 9.4 million kids in our country struggle without health insurance, including one little girl we all love very much, whose mom was incredibly brave this week, taking her fight for her child to the state capitol and speaking before legislators and media all in support of this very basic human right?

I sometimes wonder how much words can truly matter, but in a week where Kyla's words turned into advocacy I don't have to wonder too much. It matters when we speak our minds. It matters when we find an audience. And together we must keep up the fight, for all the causes that matter to us. Because if not us, who? If not now, when?

Brava, Kyla. Brava, Julie. Brava, us.

Speaking of, our Just Post Roundtable is coming up on the 10th. If you have a post you'd like included, written by yourself or another please email it to me at girlplustwoATyahooDOTcom. If this is new to you check out the purple buttons to your right.

cracks and fissures pt 2

So I've talked about her before, this little girl who breaks my heart but what I haven't talked about is how cruel she is to M, who worships her, talks about her incessantly, always setting aside little treasures to bring her, allowing her good days to rise and fall on this other girl's mood. She told me the other day she brings her presents so she likes me mama, I just want her to like me mama and why doesn't she like me mama i try so hard. And I saw myself and a thousand girls in her and I wanted to pull the car over on the freeway and cry because there will be a lifetime of this and I can't believe it starts so soon.

Little girls can be mean, hurting little girls even more so. Nearly every day M will tell me her latest heartache, ______ was mean to me today, the next day _______ spit on me (note to little girl, you do not spit on my kid.) I know this little girl is in pain, the sorrow hangs heavily on her face but she's learning, she's learning so soon the art of cruelty, the masterful way words can punish and wound. It's not her fault and yet she wounds my girl all the time and no matter how many times M and I have gone round and round, from the trying to remember not everyone feels the same way to sometimes we all have bad days to M, my baby girl, you simply do not deserve to be treated like this and there will come a point where you simply will have to stop trying and I'll be right here when you do.

And it wounds. It wounds because she's not yet four. It wounds because every day I leave her to defend herself and she can't quite figure out how to do that, how to let the nice girls matter as much as the one whose attention she wants the most. I've talked to the teachers, I've even talked to the little girl but words are small, they are little scraps of paper blowing around the windy playground sticking to the fence. They blow and swirl around my girl and yet every day she tries again, her wide open heart runs straight up to her and waits to see if she'll be turned away. She catches my eye in those moments, the ones I'm there to catch and I see her face fall. Today I went to her and gathered her in my arms, the other little girl watching us and while part of my wanted to gather them both my arms are not quite built for two.

Obama answers MOMocrats questions

After being severely disappointed by the trivial questions asked during the last presidential debate, we decided to ask Senator Obama some of our own questions of substance and guess what, he's answered them. I am posting my question and his answer here and you can see all of the questions and answers over at MOMocrats now.

Questions we wished ABC would have asked:
1. From Jen: John Edwards spoke repeatedly about alleviating suffering and poverty for the poorest among us. With 46M people living in poverty and tens of thousands of homeless people in most major cities in our nation, what will be your response in addressing the lack of affordable housing in our nation?
Obama's answer:
Rising poverty is one of the most serious issues facing America today, and I believe that inserting simplistic tag lines or one-dimensional goals are unlikely to be helpful in meeting this challenge. As president, I will build off of my life experiences of fighting poverty and hopelessness as a community organizer, civil rights lawyer and elected official to make poverty eradication a top goal of my administration.

As President, I will increase the supply of affordable housing. In too many communities, low-income families are priced out of the housing market. Between 1993 and 2003, the number of units of affordable to low-income households fell by 1.2 million. I believe we should create an Affordable Housing Trust Fund to develop affordable housing in mixed-income neighborhoods. The Affordable Housing Trust Fund would use a small percentage of the profits of two government-sponsored housing agencies, Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, to create thousands of new units of affordable housing every year. I will also restore cuts to public housing operating subsidies, and ensure that all Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) programs are restored to their original purpose.

In addition to addressing the housing crisis, my anti-poverty plan will significantly improve opportunities for millions of poor children and their parents by strengthening the economy for working Americans and providing additional resources to programs that have proven to be effective in reducing poverty. For example, my plan will expand the EITC, which is considered one of the most effective pro-work anti-poverty programs to date, to 5.8 million more Americans. Additionally, my EITC plan will increase EITC benefits for another 6.2 million Americans. I will also extend affordable, quality and portable health insurance coverage to every American and make significant investments in early childhood education to help low-income families. I will invest $1 billion over five years into transitional jobs and career pathways programs to engage more Americans into the workforce and help them succeed. I will also work to tackle chronic poverty in urban neighborhoods across American by creating Promise Neighborhoods in 20 cities to provide new hope and opportunities to residents of concentrated poverty.

Perhaps most importantly, my plan will only focus on strengthening and expanding the most-effective methods for reducing poverty - including taking steps to strengthen families by reducing domestic violence, rewarding fathers who do the right thing and giving parents the right to take time off from work to care for a sick child. That's why my plan includes expanding innovative programs like the Nurse-Family Partnership, a program that has nurses visit and train low-income first-time mothers, because it has been proven to have produced an average of five dollars in savings for every dollar invested and produced more than $28,000 in net savings for every high-risk family enrolled in the program. If my administration finds that one of its anti-poverty programs is not working, that program will be eliminated and funds will be routed to more effective uses.

Jen again:
This is the best, most comprehensive answer to the affordable housing crisis I've heard answered in the presidential campaign so far. This is exactly the type of dialogue we are hungry for so perhaps the mainstream media can take a page from our book next time they host a debate because no one and I mean no one should be asking about flag pins anymore.

If you want to see all of the questions and answers, head over to MOMocrats now.

Edited to say: We also asked the same questions of the Clinton campaign and have yet to hear back.

Power to the People

So in case yesterday wasn't clear these five lovely and talented sisters asked me to help spread the word about an incredible act of community service, of ultimate kindness, of gigantic deliciousness, otherwise known as the pre-Blogher party. The one with all your bloganistas in one room reunited and feeling so good. Hell, even if you aren't coming to Blogher you can still come to our party. I mean, it's free, and it's for you. For you and you and you and you. For anyone who wants to come.

So without further ado, I give you The People's Party, held on Thursday, July 17th at the Westin in the Elizabethan Room at 8:00pm till whenever someone sets something on fire. If that wasn't clear and you need it fancier, it's all shimmery below too. All that matters is that you join us. If you are interested you can RSVP in her soft and velvety comments section or just tell me here and I'll pass it along for you because I'm nice like that. Featuring Special Guest Che Bloggess and her Hairdryer of Power via Live Streaming Feed (and you know, live in person because she's tricky like that)

The People's Party is brought to you by:

Izzy Mom
The Bloggess
One Plus Two
Mother Bumper
Velveteen Mind
Oh, The Joys

And these cats were crazy enough to want to sponsor the madness:

be sure to wear some flowers in your hair

It's a game of sorts and you are at Clue #5. Follow the breadcrumbs 1-6 because we've got a surprise and it's for you, for every single one of you who wants to come. Go on now, clickety click. Put it all together and it'll tell you what's what.


Either start at the beginning or follow the tease (heh, who's stalking who now, dudes).

What? It's not clear yet? Then you'll have to come back tomorrow for the Full Monty.

bits

We overdid it a bit on our hike today. The 3 miles turned into 4.5 and the warm into hot. Poor M by the end was dragging, we'd run out of water and we had to take turns carrying her (this is starting to sound thematic and perhaps a sign that we are not actually responsible enough to take our child hiking). On the upside we brought one of those little magnifying boxes with us so we captured bugs during our hike and checked them out. Inchworms are pretty cool up close in case you were wondering and I know you were.

When we finally got back to the car she cashed out immediately and woke up grumpy. Luckily we have a fabulous friend who happens to like my kid and she came over and gave us a free pass to go to the movies while she and M and baked muffins. Muffins, I tell you. If that isn't a slice of Americana I dare you to tell me what is.

By the way, we saw The Visitor and it was really quite good. I'm quite aware that this post is boring at best and probably not worthy of hitting publish but I'm going to do it anyways because I'm lame like that. Here I go.

flags of our brothers

I was talking to a guy today, a vet in a wheelchair who has no place to live. He sells those tiny little flags and makes a little money, his wheelchair was laden with the flags and his belongings and I noticed one of his legs was a prosthetic although I'm pretty sure he still couldn't walk. He had all these bags tied to his chair which nearly doubled it's girth, some of the bags were taped and swollen and to be honest it was kind of a mess. I couldn't help but wonder what folks think when they come across him on the street, and if they knew how much it would mean to him if they bought one of his flags, how hard he tries to sell them and how little he actually makes. He told me business has been pretty slow lately and he's not sure why. I thought that if folks knew how hard he's trying then maybe they'd buy one, or if they saw where he had to sleep at night maybe they'd buy two.

But I don't know if folks can tell those things when they see him on the street, his flags and his leg and his chair and his stuff, all of it together in human form, maybe the eyes block the heart, the mind plays it's games and we turn away because perhaps we don't feel all that patriotic or worse because we just don't know what else to do.

(the picture is from the net and not of the gentleman of whom i speak)

it's everything

Upon retiring for the evening, resplendent in her pajamas and a pink and orange party hat.

You are the sweetest little mommy in the whole world. I'm going to keep you forever.

I hope so, baby. I really hope so.

38

I don't remember the day I was born but I'm sure it was swell.

When I was 8 I had a party, I dove in front of the pinata and got cracked in the head.
When I was 25 I thought my life was over, I cried the day long and had never felt so old.
But now I'm cool, 38 is only as old as I want it to be. So today I will only think of sweetness and light and wine and red and unicorns and sunshine and butter and candy necklaces and I shall remember that I am me and I am here and life is good and I am blessed and we are full of love.

and the sky opened up

I've talked about my uncle once before, his life and his death both. But Jessica's post on understanding death made me remember it again. As I wrote before, I cut my teeth on his doctrine, the original Jesus Camp. He commanded your attention and would then reward you with scripture quoted in a booming voice that meant no fidgeting, no looking away and you damn well nod your head and you damn well better never say damn. He commanded his church with much of the same tough love: you can come in but you better find a bible. You can do drugs but you better be praying. You can sleep on my pew but at 6am you better be on your knees.

Because of the nature of his ministry he had a tremendous following, people who truly felt he'd saved their lives. Folks that ended up serving the church in a variety of ways, their gratitude almost cultlike, Pastor, they'd say with reverence and hands outstretched. Pastor, and he'd touch their hands or heads and they saw it as being blessed.

When he died suddenly and without warning everyone felt he did a great service by choosing to die away from the church. There was never any discussion, just Pastor decided it was time to go home. Dying away from the church meant no one saw it happen and the shock while brutal throughout the church and shelter was manageable until the day of his funeral.

We got there early and still had to park blocks away. The church was overflowing with scores of street people and the elderly, kids and their moms. Every color of the rainbow and every walk of life, languages from all over the world and the church packed to the rafters. They still had to lodge some speakers in the windows to accomodate the hundred and more people filling the street.

My uncle was laid out up front, his casket closed. Folks were weeping and using their programs as fans. Being family I was in the second row and watched his son give the eulogy, tears coursing down his cheeks. The choir broke down in sobs in the middle of their song. It took forever after the service for everyone to walk by and pay their respects at his casket, lines streaming from outside the church. One woman literally threw herself on the coffin and had to be pulled off and away and I can still recall her wail. Men were weeping. Women were in the basement making a humble meal, a meal he'd approve of because everyone was convinced he was still paying attention. My uncle see, he didn't mess around.

I didn't know death until that day. I didn't know that my heart could feel the depths of sorrow and fear of loss itself, the man we circled our lives around and broke bread with, who ministered and raged and guilted and scorned and forgave and loved and who never, ever would listen to an opinion contrary to his faith. And I cried that day, sitting amongst the street folks and the dealers, the thumpers and the old grandmas with no teeth. I cried great buckets of tears because nothing made sense, the man who spoke to God was dead and I feared him and I loved him and somewhere in between I found my own way.

get on the bus

Den spent hours re-working my blog and giving it a facelift this weekend, and he didn't even seem to mind when I was IM'ing him every six seconds. I really like it. Den, you are the real deal, brother. Thank you. The bus in the header was a picture I'd taken out of a front windshield in El Salvador as we were winding our way through the country, what's missing are all the guys with guns.

I'd never seen as many guns in my life as I did during that trip. Everybody had a gun, and everyone used their gun (generally an enormous machine gun type gun) in everyday activities. We'd ask for directions, folks would gesture to the left with their gun that way! We'd walk in a door and there would almost always be a dude sitting near the entrance either holding a gun or with it propped up next to him. We'd drive down the street and men on horseback with guns slumg over their backs would ride the other way. It felt like the Wild West with all those guns. Their Civil War only ended in 1992 after decades of lawlessness and strife. I'd imagine folks were pretty used to defending themselves and old habits must die hard.

adieu (the path)

I've talked before about our new neighbors, they aren't so new anymore. They are not so new anymore and now they are leaving. Their first year as parents. It's been hard on them, hard on them in a way I understand as if looking through a window. Maybe into a mirror. They are moving back to where they came, the hope is things will feel more normal there. I don't question this and yet I doubt it, wiser only by a few extra child years and nothing more. Silence.

We offer to take them to the mountains and join our weekly sojourn. They agree, treasuring their last california bits, the sun and heat and dry and sage. We hike, four big and two little people and we talk, four big people and two little people in various stages of enunciation and sound and gurgle and sighs. We don't talk with our souls but occasionally with our hearts, our brains and we see with our eyes and it still matters. They were our neighbors for a good while, a decent enough side trip on the road of life that could have gone on for a few more days. We talk of gathering again but it's that kind of talk that means well and will surprise you later if it comes true, not for any other reason than life itself. I will miss them.

moving on up

You might notice some blog-struction this weekend going on over here. The ultra fabulous and talented Denguy has been working diligently to pull one plus two into the 21st century. See you on the more modern side, and soon!

lie to me

Are sweet potato frites from Trader Joes the same as feeding your three year old vegetables? Can it serve as an entire dinner if you include ketchup?

It can, right?


See the post below for the ever growing number of sister soul windows.

seven windows of my soul

edited to say: there are many more views linked below.

1. The view out of my Bangkok window that cloudy morning after arriving in Asia for the first time.
2. The window facing the garden of the coffee plantation in the hills of El Salvador.
3. The view out of our Phnom Penh guesthouse watching the congee stands opening at the crack of dawn.
4. The view of the hospital parking lot the morning I gave birth to M.
5. The overgrown weeds outside the first shelter I worked in, the dew on the weeds mixed with trash and the sun bouncing off a dirty sill.
6. The beach cliff and wide open ocean out of the bedroom window in Mexico where I first fell in love with J.
7. Nursing M while watching the toucans sitting in the tree outside the sliding glass door in the Belizean jungle.

Where do your soul windows live?

If you want to write your own post send me the links and I'll add it to the list below. Feel free to take these to add to your post too.
jen with seven windows of my soul
Jessica with Eleven windows
Tracy from Tiny Mantras
Defiant Muse from Musings...
Kaliroz with windows
BarrenAlbion with seven windows of my soul
Arwen with windows to my soul
Somewhere in the suburbs with windows
Karen with eight windows
Jennifer with Seven views
Magpie with windows
Katy with windows
Mary with seven windows of my soul
BA with come to my windows
Slouchy with there are places I remember
Urban Urchin with Eleven windows of my soul
Ivy Brown with windows
Motherhood101A+ with Memories of my life
Kevin with though dates had little meaning to me
Dragon Woman with seven windows of my soul

ding ding ding

It's been so warm, warm enough to crack a beer in the middle of the day. I never drink beer in winter, that alone must mean a lot. So I sit with my cold beer and the windows wide open and the sun is setting and life is good.

Today M and I went to her friend's birthday party today at one of those all encompassing child play centers with loud blinking lights and roaring sounds and little people climbing all over the place. I don't know that I was looking forward to it but once there I realized it's a hell of a lot of fun. They had all those stupid games that give you tickets when you win and those tickets get traded in for little bits of crap. I don't care about the crap but damn if I don't like getting the tickets. So M and I took a ton of tokens and went crazy much to the dismay of probably every other parent there. We whackamoled and dumptrucked and threw balls and made frogs climb and then she bought a bunch of temporary tattoos and little bracelets and pranced around like a rockstar.

It's shifting again, this mothering gig. I find myself finding new ways to love her and learn about her and teach her about me. I am tremendously, tremendously moved by her spirit, by her wide open heart, by her boundless joy and rapid fire smiles. I never knew she would exist and now I can never imagine her not.

into the wild

We've intentionally started hiking every weekend. We found a book with kid friendly mountain hikes and let M choose each time, a choice she bases mostly on the interesting names. She doesn't know it but we are doing this on purpose, teaching her to love the simple act of walking where there is nothing but nature to entertain her. Teaching her it's okay to be tired and hot and even how to pee outside if she must. She has a hard time at some point almost every time, boredom or she's tired or THERE'S A BUG A BUG THERE'S A BUG NEAR ME or she's simply being three so a meltdown inevitably ensues and partially ruins the day. We've noticed that if we work through it she comes out better on the other side, stronger and a bit more adventurous. So we push on, knowing it's okay and knowing we are trying to broaden her comfort level, something she'll need more of in the months to come when life starts to look nothing like it does today.

Yesterday's hike was especially tough, the book downplayed the arduousness of it (You bastard you said this was perfect for kids and yet it was hard for me let alone her you dumbass hiking writer and if that was only 100' of altitude change then smack my ass and call me Sally) and we weren't planning on so much heat. We ran out of water and it started feeling really hard when we still had a ways to go. We took turns carrying her and making up stories, anything to occupy her mind. She was terrific and we made it and I lifted her high and whooped and whooped We did it girl, we did it and she threw her head back and laughed and screeched wildly yes we did mama yes we did.

clearly gone round the bend

Life got all crazy busy for a few days and all of a sudden there are 162 unread posts in my reader. What's wrong with you people? It's sunny out. Go outside already.

In other news, my kid told me today that she's tired because she's got a baby in her tummy. Where does that shit come from? Because it's not coming from me.

In other other news, I applied to be one of the four people Barack Obama had dinner with last week. Guess what? He didn't pick me. He's clearly missing out. What are you, Obama, afraid to hear someone rant on and on about folks who need housing? Not man enough for that? Just kidding. Love you. I'd have made a hell of a dinner guest if I might say so myself. Call me or I'll sic Jenny The Stalker Bloggess on you. Dude.

March Just Posts

Sometimes change starts with one. Sometimes it starts with one joining another and agreeing to agree and allowing others to agree too. But I think it always starts with one in the brief moment where fantasy meets reality and we decide to leap. I've been watching one sister blogger leap this week, a dream for her and for another and for children across the world. Jen Lemen is on a journey, she asked our community for help and our community is answering. I don't know Jen aside from her blog but I read her and I feel joy. I read her and I want to see her get on that plane to Rwanda. I read her and it feels like hope.

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has. Margaret Mead

The March Just Posts
Beth with Have you gotten greener?
Beyond the fields we know with Thursday Poem - Testimony
Bob Dylan with Arbor Day
bon with In Praise of Universal Health Care
Carrie with People are people
Chicky Chicky Baby with Both ends of the spectrum of animal abuse
Daisy with Stranger than fiction, my job is, Teddy bear, teddy bear and Politics as usual - or not
Fretful with Sense of pride
Gary in Thailand with Free Tibet
Gina with Three trillion dollars, four thousand dead, five years, one man and Not your sweetie
Girlgriot with Believing the hype
Heart in San Francisco with What art is not
Jen with My sad lament and Unhappy Anniversary
Julie Pippert with The United States: it's okay, it's an easy mistake to make
Kelly with Anti-poverty protesters shut down city council meeting
Kevin Charnas with Running to save
Kevin at Life has Taught Us with Olympic Spirit and Is this the Olympic Spirit?
Kyla with What would you say? and The Interview and Where I'm Not
Lost White Kenyan Chick with Food for thought for International Women's Day
Maithri with Beyond borders
Mary with Five years forward, a thousand years back
Mir Kamin on BlogHer with Attention 8-Year-Olds: You Should Be Pampered, Primped, and Hairless
Mother-Woman with Where Was I?
No Caption Needed with The silent costs of war
Pixiedust with Great-full Friday: Community
Reluctant Housewife with My Gayest Look
Sandra with I am not an aboriginal woman
Superlagirl with The drymouth will fade, but the involuntary movements are yours to keep forever
Susanna's sketchbook with We can do it
Susanne with Body image, or Would you recognize your own belly button?
Suzanne Reisman on BlogHer with Legalize Prostitution
The Expatriate's Kitchen with Is it just me
The Elementary with Everything we have , One for the road and No man is an island
WhyMommy with One regret
Some of the Just Readers
Christine
Anne
Chani
Jess
Mary
Alejna
Don't forget to pop over to Mad's, Hel's and Su's and see what they've dished up for the Roundtable this month. If this is new to you we are here every month featuring posts about social issues and justice and all are welcome to join.

The Bloggess is totally stalking me

I don't know if you happened to notice her comments on my post yesterday but I think it's time to let you all know that Jenny The Bloggess is stalking me. You may have heard of her but it's hard to say given how obscure her little site is. What, she blogs for a couple other big time publications? Bloggessed is in the Urban Dictionary? She can't be stalking me because she's already stalking that Kawasaki guy? Pfffft. She's crafty, that Jenny. I see she's got you all fooled.

Let me give you the facts and then you can decide:
1. My name is Jen. She calls herself "Jenny". Hmmm.
2. I have a daughter. Now all of a sudden, she has a daughter. And she's ridiculously cute. Everyone knows kids that look like that don't really exist.
3. I went to Blogher last year. I turn around and SHE'S at Blogher last year too.
4. I'm going to Blogher this year. Now SHE'S going to Blogher this year too.
5. She's suddenly started posting at MOMocrats and calling herself a pundeet.
6. I have a blog, she has a blog.
7. Again, my name is Jen. She's going by "Jenny".

Everywhere I turn, she's right there. I put a post on my blog, she puts a post on her blog. I link her to the last few posts, she comes over and comments on them. Uh, wait. Forget that last one.

I'm afraid to open my blinds for fear she'll be right outside in her snappy little heels and photographic memory. If only I knew how to code those little blog buttons, I'd make one that says "I'm being stalked by The Bloggess and you're not" but thankfully I don't know how to code those little blog buttons.

What do you think? Mere coincidences? Am I making too much of this? I think not.

her future includes either a nobel peace prize or ongoing psychotherapy

M: Everybody likes me.
Me: Huh? Everybody? Who is everybody?
M: Everybody I see likes me.
Me: What about you? Do you like everybody?
M: I like everybody in all the different countries.
Me: What about this country?
M: I like them too. I like everybody and everybody likes me.

In other news, I'll never be a trailblazer but I can make a hell of a good stalker. Besides, I really wanted one of Jenny's buttons. Altop invited me to join their site (what, I only begged a little) and so watch out blogosphere, I'll be nationwide before you know it. Being home sick has it's benefits if one uses the time wisely.

i dream of india

on those days, especially those days when everyone is sick and you are sick and you think perhaps just perhaps after a long weekend of sick you are going to have the house alone, deliciously alone because you are too sick to go to work come Monday and yet you find your child is also still sick and unable to go to school and your fantasy of lying on the couch all day alone, deliciously alone with the remote and your laptop and you watch it puddle on the floor and try as you might to catch it before it swirls down the drain, the dirty drain it slips past you and you find yourself on the couch decidely un-alone and you sigh and you realize it's nine am and you've got twelve hours to go before it's done.

it's then i dream of india, the heat and the diesel and the smells and the colors you've never seen and so desperately long to see and you'd give anything to be wandering the streets of a foreign city alone in the distant fierceness of your youth.

it's like that almost exactly.

today's the last day to send me your Just Posts, the Roundtable is coming up on Thursday. you can send them to girlplustwoATyahooDOTcom today and if you are kind, so very kind you'll also send me the perfect babysitter and a one way ticket to the east.

clearly i am spending too much time at the grocery store

I'm walking down the dairy aisle when she runs smack ass into me. She hits me with her cart and then looks at me and literally pushes my cart aside with hers (and no, I'm not blocking the aisle people). I'm not one for getting all balled up but you know, fuck you.

I totally understand why you might not believe this given my Duncan folklore of late, and to be honest, I've been at the grocery store way more than usual which has clearly upped my odds of crazy, but still.

So she's a little scary, this chick. Scary fierce in a bit older and perhaps may well be off the rocker sort of way. So I pause for a minute before saying um, seriously? You are okay with this? And she whips around ready to snarl. What did you say? Er, wait. No, fuck it. I'm tough and I can throw cheese blocks if that's how it needs to go. I said, I can't believe you are okay with what you just did.

I'll sleep just fine, it's your ass that needs to get out of the way. And off she goes. I stand there for a few minutes, another shopper glides by and shakes her head. I should have grabbed the cheese.

It's funny, because for all my smack talking, I'm kind of a chicken shit. So I don't say anything and she keeps going. But I spent the rest of the time coming up with multiple crafty, witty and piercing comebacks, none of which I said.

Such as: My ass or your face, bi-yotch? Or, I'll get my ass out of your way in a way you won't forget (now who's the big talker!) But sadly, I left the store feeling largely unfulfilled. And where is she when I need her? Or her? Someone who'd actually be able to kick some ass?

Me and grocery, we are officially on a break.

and this is how she slays me

Mommy, you are the best mommy in the whole world. When you are happy I am happy too. I love you every day. And daddy too. And then she hurtles her little self at me and hugs me with all her might.

Now that's good, baby girl. Really, really good. And ooof goes my heart.

maybe his name was duncan

Sometimes I'm a total weirdo. Like tonight when I was drifting up and down the grocery store aisles (no one was going into labor you suckas) and I notice this dude wearing standard youngish-white-dude-at-a-desk-job-attire, khaki pants and a blue shirt. He went and put that icky pimento bologna fake meat crap with green pieces in his basket. I mean, who buys that shit? Who is this guy? So as I'm pondering that we cross paths again on another aisle. Now he's buying the most cardboardish health food cereal possible. So cardboard it doesn't even come in a box, it's in some sort of free range bag or something. He's an enigma! He looks European. Is he from Sweden? See, I'm weird.

Speaking of Sweden, er, I mean Holland, I just finished reading Infidel. Have you read it? Ayaan Hirsi Ali is an extraordinary woman with an amazing story. It's worth the read. In fact, if you want me to send it to you let me know in the comments and I'll send it to the first taker (and as soon as I can get my ass to the post).

Speaking of amazing, have you met Defiant Muse? She's this hipster chick living up in the woods who's travelled all over and has this lovely defiant (hence the name) soul. I really dig her. I think you would too.

Speaking of dig, it's Just Post time again. All you have to do to participate is to send me posts about social issues, social justice, activism, ponies (kidding on the ponies unless of course it's about freeing ponies from those bastard pony rides and then it definitely counts) from the month of March. It can be yours or someone elses, everyone is welcome and you can send the links to me at girlplustwoATyahooDOTcom. We host the Just Posts on the 10th of each month on four separate blogs in four different countries. We're international, people. And there's no pimentos whatsoever.

nobody told me there'd be days like these

So it happened right there in the baking aisle. I see her as I'm pushing my cart around the corner, she falls grabbing boxes on her way to the floor. I abandon my cart and run down the aisle. I slip as I get close to her, BAM, my ass hits the floor.

Holy Shit, I think her waters have broken. I'm sliding on amniotic fluid. She's on the floor, her face in a grimace. I think I'm in labor, she gasps.

Holy Shit. Call 911! I yell and no one comes. Call 911! I yell again, a woman walked around the corner, walked past. What the hell, I think. What the hell?! I make a mental note to find that walker byer and give her a piece of my mind.

You need to go to the hospital, I say. No, she says. I've got to push right now. She asks me to sit between her legs, by now there are several folks gathered around and at least two of them are calling 911. Is there a doctor in the house I say, feeling slightly funny but also sort of psyched that I get to say such a thing out loud.

You've got to hold on, if you water just broke there's no way the baby's coming yet I say. Bitch, she says, you don't know what you are talking about. I've had three other babies exactly like this. Alrighty then, you cow, I think. Deliver the kid on top of Duncan Hines himself for all I care. But I choose not to say any of this out loud.

She tells me I need to help her, that the baby is coming and I need to help. Uh uh, I think, I don't even know your name and yet I dutifully assume the position. She hikes her skirt up and starts screaming. I start screaming too, along the lines of where are the goddamn paramedics! and the other customers are running around back and forth, one of them rips open a package of dishtowels and hands them to me. Another is holding her hand. This is freaking insane.

We hear the sirens so the ambulance must be close. But not close enough. I glance down and see the head, the baby's head is coming out. Holy shit I say out loud, here it comes! And pop, a shoulder, then two, and out slithers a...wait for it...ah, a baby boy!

A boy born in the baking aisle. Mom is done screaming and the paramedics come running down the aisle. I hand them the slippery dishtoweled baby and they shoo me out of the way. Some thanks I get, I think and move to the side and look for my cart. My purse is still in it, that makes me happy because you know, it could have been stolen in the the ruckus.

As they are taking the mom away I run up to her, name him Duncan! I say and she looks at me sideways as if we've never met.

foolery

Once upon a girl I rocked April Fool's Day. I was the practical joke queen, I'd staged walk outs on the job, announced teen pregnancies, staged a fake accident (I really got in trouble for that one). But the best, by far the best was the prank I pulled on a boss more about 15 years ago.

My boss then was a fiery guy, he'd yell at us all the time. He'd get so nutted up his face would get red and he'd sputter and throw things around. I was in my very early 20's, I didn't know enough to know it was wrong but I certainly found it funny and a bit inviting in the he must be knocked off his uptight little pedestal sort of way. So as April 1st rolled around I came up with an idea.

I'd called a stripper's agency and arranged for a stripper to come to the office under the guise of applying for a job interview. He and I shared an office at the time and I often scheduled his appointments, so it was nothing strange when I falsified a job application and showed it to him and scheduled an interview for noon on April 1st. I'd let most of the staff in on the joke and when the stripper arrived one of them came to get me. I snuck out to meet her and fill her in on what I was hoping she'd do.

I asked her to go in as if it's a normal interview and then midway through the interview pull one of the "it's sure hot in here" and unbutton her shirt and then do the old "I'd do ANYTHING for this job" with a hand on his leg. I asked her to drag it out as long as possible, the joke was in him not knowing it wasn't a real interview for as long as possible because I wanted him sitting there going WTF, WTF, WTF inside his head. We'd stashed a stereo under the desk at her feet so when she was ready she just had to hit play, the music would come on and I'd open the door so everyone could witness the end of the show and he'd realize it was all a big joke.

There's probably a million reasons why that was the wrong prank to pull on that sunny April day so long ago. But when the door swung open and she was rocking the dance I laughed my ass off and thinking about it now am laughing again. He saw all of our faces peering through the packed doorway and found mine and he yelled you are dead, Jen but was grinning and I think appreciated the elaborate gesture in the end. His wife (did I mention this was a little family run business?) was not nearly as amused and didn't speak to me for weeks. But all in all it was one of the funniest pranks I'd ever staged. The next year when I had everyone who worked for him resign every hour on the hour all day long was not NEARLY as funny, except to me because I couldn't believe he was gullible enough to fall for another prank the following year. By the end of the day he had his head on his desk and he was about to cry, and when I said April Fools I thought he was going to wring my neck.

Somehow I still managed to keep that job for another couple years. Go figure.