blogging


Yes, the Monday meme’s have been music heavy this month, but bear with me one last Monday and I promise to turn over a new leaf in March.

Favorite songs.

I was a huge Beatle fan in high school. It started with Sgt. Pepper and quickly grew out of control. I even collected UK releases, taking the bus downtown to this indie music store that sold pot paraphenalia in addition to having one of the most extensive LP and ELP collections this small town girl was lucky to be able to have access to.

Anyway, Let It Be is not the best where the Beatles are concerned and certainly Abbey Road would have been a more fitting ending, but I love this song and ran across it quite by accident and felt like sharing.

Have a favorite Beatles tune? Or just a favorite Beatle?


The week draws to a close and I am sore. My legs ache and my tightening bum is just not as pleased with itself as I am with it. I have been doing intervals on the hill setting thanks to my new treadmill that my adorable husband put together for me a few short weeks ago. Normally, I am not a fan of treadmills. Stationary motion gets old fast but it’s not as tiring as trekking into town every day to hit the track at the fitness center.

I lost a bit of sleep this week due to achy legs and a nagging female issue that my kindly old Chinese doctor assured me on Tuesday is not potentially fatal.*

The oldest daughter, ED, is on her way to a third world country for a week’s holiday as you read this. Rob is worried. It’s a third world country, but one that nearly everyone I have contact with in my little world of The Fort has been to and come back from this winter, so there is likely nothing at all to worry about. Just another side-effect of that loss of innocence thing.

I finished the galley of that book in which I am a heavily disguised character. It was very good. It also highlighted for me a nagging career/goal issue that won’t let me alone these days. I am going to need to sit down and do a bit of 10ing soon.

Two pieces up at 50 something Mom’s. Thanks by the way to those who took time to read and comment on Tuesday’s piece. You can find Thursday’s here.

My mind is preoccupied with mutant dogs and how to bridge the gaping holes in my former short story that has morphed alarmingly into a novella. Outlining might have been helpful in this instance I am thinking.

Oh, and my stomach is giving me fits again. I am inches away from putting myself back on the blandest and most boring of diets and then totally eliminating anything that isn’t fresh. Additives and preservatives will turn me into a reluctant anorexic yet. I really hate this whole having to eat thing.

Aside from this, it’s still winter. I wish we had thought about planning a real vacation for Spring Break to somewhere warmer than we are going.** 

My massage therapist loaned me the first season of The Tudors. It’s the porn version of 16th century England, but we will need something to fill the time gap left once we finish off season three of Weeds.

There are three stages of a television series. Season one which is promising but the actors and writers are clearly still finding themselves. Season two, hitting a stride. And season three, what the fuck? This is when a show either rests on its laurels, such as they are, or they  push the envelope and it blows back in their faces like bubblegum. Weeds has followed that pretty well. Season three is not so great. 

Anyway, it’s naked history or Turner Classic Movies. We did the latter the other evening on a whim. Watched Funny Face with Audrey Hepburn and Fred Astaire. As we were laying on the couch, watching the scene where the two burst into dance in the meadow behind a church in the Parisian countryside, Rob turns to me and says,

“If I had been the guy they pitched this movie to, I would have told them to get the fuck out of my office.”

“What? They didn’t have you at the premise? Really beautiful, really young English girl falls for balding middle-aged American photographer?”

“He’s wearing Mr. Roger’s cardigan.”

“He dances divinely,” I countered. “And there are ducks.”

There were ducks galore in that scene. I am thinking that PETA wouldn’t have stood for that at all  – had they existed in 1956.

“Dancing and bursting into bad songs is not manly,” he said. “And I’ve lived a man’s life, so I should know.”

TCM, however, is good for laughs. We’ll see about Henry the 8th as a porn star.

 

*I am the least trusting patient in the universe and run to the doctor with everything, convinced I have been beset by something deadly. I don’t know that I will ever get over this but it would be nice to simply shrug and ignore like a normal person again someday.

**Family thing. Again. Three vacations on slate and only one of them non-family. I love family but dang-it I am tired of  obligations that are low on the relaxing and fun scale.


Not so good to be the responsible older brother though. Figuratively or literally.

Although it’s long past time to tackle this particularly big root of the current financial implosion which threatens us all, it still leaves me shaking my head and not just a little bit annoyed.

Team Obama announced yet another bailout, this to the tune of $75 billion for homeowners. Considering that this is where the problem started – a long time ago – it seems a bit like trying to stuff horses back through the keyhole of the lock on the barn door but better late than never, right?

According to Sheila Bair, who is chairman of the FDIC, it’s about time. Previous bailouts, I assume she means the ones to banks and investment houses, have failed because “We’ve not attacked the problem at the core.”

The core, of course, are all the Joe Six-Packs/or Prodigal sons who caused this mess by not being able to pay on mortgages and other lines of credit. Money is debt after all. Banks essentially lend money based more on what is owed them than the stuff that is actually on deposit with them. It’s an elaborate scam that goes unnoticed because it sits out in plain sight, pretending to be a sane idea.

Team Obama was quick to utter the right reassurances. No one will get bail out money for their mortgage if they were house flipping or bought more house than they could afford or are one of those horrid dishonest lenders who tricked people into buying more house than they could afford. 

Money will go to families who played by the rules. Oh! So the older brothers will get their reward then? Not so fast .

Thing is the “rules” during the great American housing dream of the early part of this decade clearly stated that one could buy more house than one could normally afford because houses where going to do nothing but appreciate in value. And with things like ARM’s or interest only loans – and a good job whose salary will only go up year after year -a play-by-the-rules family could buy more than they could really afford and refinance before the ARM came due using the appreciation of their home to finance it. 

Older brothers didn’t fall for that, so Prodigal sons win again. Because if you scrimped and did without – lived within your means in other words – then you are not one of those who are losing their houses right now. (Although you might be soon if you are among those downsized as a result of the reckless grasshopper like behavior of your credit-is-just-like-money thinking neighbor. Where you stand in the great Main Street giveaway is like the player yet to be named.)

I got the spiel on ARM’s when I bought my last house. I turned it down flat and still almost lost my house anyway when my late husband was fired from his job because of his illness and our income was nearly halved.

Which is my point. What about people like me? Who lost their homes through circumstances they really couldn’t control. People who really played by the rules as opposed to crying foul later when their gambles didn’t pay off as they hoped. Or the people who didn’t raid their equity piggybanks to pay off the credit cards they would just run up again or to take the family on a Disney Cruise.

What about us?

The Prodigal son’s older brother complained to their father that, essentially, being good didn’t pay off like being a screw-up who is sorry after the fact. He was sent off to a corner to contemplate his inability to be charitable.

Should people who over-extended themselves, much like the Wall Streeters and the banks, be bailed out?  Are we, the responsible taxpayers, mortgage payers and just bill paying in general half of the population just supposed to be glad the spendthrifts have seen the errors of their ways. They are victims only of their greed. They gambled on home prices rising forever and borrowed against equity that doesn’t really exist until a home is sold. They used credit cards to buy things now instead of saving up for the vacations and toys and treats. They might have been playing by the “rules” but the rules were fucked up. And deep down, didn’t we all know that?

No one teaches us in school about using credit cards, financing cars or homes. Heck, they don’t even teach us about paying taxes which is very odd for an education system that leaves little to chance by way of indoctrination into the American Way.

I know what you are thinking. The rich have been bailed out, and they knew what they were doing was wrong, so why not help out the little guy? And you are right. Why not?

Why not continue down the path of no accountability?

It’s clear that we are not worthy of our immigrant ancestors anyway. People who scrimped and saved and worked hard to get ahead. People who rode out the bad time and down turns without expecting someone to save them for themselves.

There are precious few innocent victims in the housing mess, but I will agree that there are a lot of stupid ones. People who didn’t quite understand the ramifications of the fancy financial terms, but simply trusted the realtors and the lenders when they were told,

“You can always refinance.” and that “Home prices will just keep going up.” or that “It’s never been easier to buy into that better neighborhood than now.”

Because believing that let them “get ahead” and live in that fancier suburb or take that vacation now instead of saving for it and buying it with real money and having it mean something more when they were finally able to do it without fudging around the edges.

Nothing will really be fixed by all this money that the government is tripping over itself to throw at consumers and lenders alike. The root of our problems lies within our twisted value systems and our inability to endure hard times because they are “too” hard and we are too soft.