Tis The Season… Give.

Posted on November 29, 2012 by Dawn Quyle Landau

In high school, I read the quote “To those whom much is given, much is expected.” It is most often ascribed to John F. Kennedy, but is borrowed from Luke 12:48 (“For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required.”) I read the Kennedy version in school and found it very stirring and compelling, and have spent most of my life trying to live up to it. I watched the concept in motion, for most of my life, in the actions of my grandmother. She gave generously and happily to those she loved—whether they were here clients (she was a well known and respected real estate agent in Massachusetts), her friends or her family. I pursued the concept as a Social Worker; and I have continued to believe that it is what makes life truly rewarding.

Salvation Army Angel TreeImage: lubbockonline.com

Salvation Army Angel Tree
Image: lubbockonline.com

One of my favorite things about this time of year is that it is widely seen as the “season for giving.” Of course, all year should be that, and we don’t need to see that as merely a advertising tactic for consumerism. I love the fact that each holiday season people take a little more time to think about giving to others. Each year in December I see the Salvation Army Angel Trees in the mall, the Giving Tree at our local book store, and the growing pile of solicitations from charities and organizations which stream into our mailbox as a call to take stalk, and think about how to give back.

Since my children were little I have taken them to shop for other kids, who have put their wishes on those paper angels in the mall, because we can. When we had much less, we bought much less, but I try each year to honestly reflect on what I have, and what I can give. It seems cliché, but the giving brings so much more joy than receiving. For many years, I tried to pick angels corresponding to the ages and genders of my own children, so that they could help make the decisions. As my own kids have gotten older, I just choose the angels based on how I’m feeling that day. One year, my kids and I were able to find an amazing pink bicycle with streamers and a bell, on sale, for a little girl who had never had a bike. My kids were so excited, even though we didn’t know the little girl, and wouldn’t be giving it to her ourselves. All Christmas morning, I wondered what she looked like, and wished I could see her face when she got her new bike. Little Man was the same age as that little girl that year, but he had owned a bike from the time he was able to get on one.

When I shop for books, I try to imagine another parent reading to their child, or another child finding the magic of a treasured book for the first time. This year, I bought Life of Pi for a 17 year old boy, and hope that he will find all of the beauty of that story before seeing the movie. I felt giddy as I bought Goodnight Moon for a two year old girl, and teared up thinking about “whispering hush” to each of my own three children, when we cuddled up before bed and read it. A four year old boy will love Where The Wild Things Are, I hope… and it will be even better if some adult holds him close and says: “Oh, please don’t go, we’ll eat you up we love you so!” I still say it occasionally to my kids, though two of them have long since gone. I bought a book for my favorite Co-Operative School in town, and was inspired to do more shopping, knowing that they would get a percentage of all sales.

This is what $8,000 worth of baby food and formula looks like! Best donation ever, and one of the happiest days!

This is what $8,000 worth of baby food and formula looks like! Best donation ever, and one of the happiest days!

Last year, our exchange student Klara (aka: Denmark) and I happened to stop by a local grocery store, near closing time, which was (sadly) going out of business. I wheeled and dealed with the owner and he graciously sold me nearly $8,000 worth of baby food and supplies for next to nothing. We then donated the food to the food bank and several charities in town that help women and infants (read the original post here). The supplies completely filled Middle Man’s Subaru and Denmark and I were beside ourselves when we saw the faces of the organizations we shared with. We felt like two Santas, and grinned for weeks. I know that it was one of the most exciting events of Denmarks time in the United States, and it was that much more wonderful for me, that I got to share it with her.

In December we sit down to take stalk and make donations to organizations, local and international, that our family believes in. Each of our kids has been encouraged to tell us about an organization that they would like to support and why. We ask them to do some research and make sure that the money is used in a way that best helps the people it serves, and then we let them donate to them. One year Little Man supported dolphin rescue, after seeing the movie The Cove. In asking our children to think about these things, our hope is that they too feel compelled to make giving a meaningful part of their adult lives, when they are one day able to give of their own accord.

A wonderful little girl I met in the Andes

A wonderful little girl I met in the Andes

While it is always nice to give locally, we love helping people in places that we feel connected to, or who we believe are particularly in need of some help. This year, we travelled to Peru and saw first hand how hard the people of the areas we visited work, for very little. Clean water is not a given in many places there, and around the world. We met a mother who was raising her Down Syndrome child in a tiny village in the mountainous jungle of the Salkantay trail. She was pregnant, and as I played with her son, I was struck by how hard her life was— doing laundry by hand, farming, raising her children without many things, and yet how warm and kind she was as we passed across her property. A friend here has helped form a charitable organization called Peru Fund, which helps mothers just like the one I met. Having been to Peru I can now see more clearly the purpose of Peru Fund’s mission. We formed bonds with our guide there and other people who touched us and were so wonderful along our journey, and we want to give back to those communities.  Peru Fund has helped bring water, medical care, educational programs, and many other humanitarian projects to the people of Peru since 1992. My friend got involved after adopting her daughter from Peru. That daughter is now a dynamic young woman who is very involved with the people, culture and needs of the country of her birth. It is a meaningful completion of a circle that has impacted so many in Peru and here.

To be clear, it’s not all about donating money, buying gifts… giving your time can have a huge impact on those you help and your own sense of humanity. This summer Little Man and I got involved in a literacy program for migrant children living on local farms for the summer. What started out as plan to do community service, became something that we couldn’t wait for. We went two days a week for several weeks and got to know the kids in the program very well, and shared a mutual affection that definitely meant as much to us as it did to the girls and boys in the program.  As mothers and fathers came to trust us, they joined us on the blanket out on the grass and listed to stories. I got to hold sweet smelling new babies, as other children cuddled closed for story time. The kids felt a sense of pride as they realized we would not judge them as they struggled on words. Little Man’s best friend did it with us too, and the three of us looked forward to each day that we went to the camps. The kids were so excited to have the attention; they loved being read to and even more: showing us how well they could read. We did art projects; we shared our favorite books and worked on helping the kids feel excited about words and the world that books open up for them. As a social worker, I now well that sometimes having one or two people reach out to you, believe in you, want to see you succeed… carried on far beyond the program. It didn’t cost a dime, but was worth so much.

When Santa comes...

When Santa comes…

Of course, there is the giving that we do for our own children and those we care about, around the holidays. It is the season for Hanukkah and Christmas in our home and we try to make both special, not just for the gifts but for the traditions and time spent together. As small children, presents were the highlight, and I would be a fool if I tried to say that my three older kids don’t still look forward to getting some things they need and want. As I’ve read about parents of younger children, shopping for a special toy, an amazing Leggo set, the doll house their child really wants, I can’t help but miss the years when my kids were little and believed in Santa, in the sparkle of presents that appeared beneath their tree, or the the fun of opening a small gift each night of Hanukkah. That special excitement that small kids feel has changed, but I still feel excited as I try to find the things that they will really appreciate and use. I love watching them open a package I’ve carefully wrapped, as I hope that I’ve hit the mark.

Each year when the holidays come around, I feel a deep sense of gratitude for all that I have. I have a safe, warm home. I eat good food when I need or want it. Clean, safe water comes out of my faucets whenever I turn them on. My children are safe, educated, happy and healthy, and so am I. I know that the economy is hard and not everyone can say all of these things, but there is always someone who is less fortunate than each of us. I believe strongly that we can give to others in small and simple ways that make an impact. I am fortunate that I can give more than I once could, but whether it’s donating your time, buying a book for a child who might not have one of their own, or giving to larger organizations that helps many, it feels really good…  and ’tis the season!

There are so many important organizations and groups who need funds to help others in our communities and around the world. If you don’t have extra funds, see if the food bank, the local shelters, or programs in your area could use your help. Most are underfunded and are grateful for your time.  These are some fantastic organizations that I believe in, which could really use some help, but take some time and find out what you believe in.

Go to your local mall or some small stores and pick an angel off the tree. It’s fun to shop for children who may not get much this year!   Peru Fund (helping the people of Peru, with water, medicine, eduction and more);      Habitat for Humanity (they work both locally and internationally),        Boys and Girls Clubs of America (Look up your local branch. This organization does so much, and is woefully underfunded in so many places!); Huntington’s Disease Society of America/HDSA (My family has been enormously impacted by this illness, and they are always in need of funds. Unlike many of the bigger diseases,” they are not as well funded);        American Red Cross (consider donating to help with Hurricane Sandy relief);          Care International (Working to end poverty, and particularly targeting empowering women in communities— there is also Care USA); Soles4Souls (making sure that everyone has a pair of shoes);       Wine to Water (working to bring clean water to communities all over the world);      Doctors Without Borders (provide urgent medical care in countries to victims of war and disaster regardless of race, religion, or politics); Humane Society of America (we love our pets and are happy to help the organization that brought them to us).  There are so many others locally that really need help (Food Bank, YWCA, local shelters, our small theater, the Pickford…)!

Posted in Activist, Awareness, Blog, Blogging, Christma-Hanukkah Mission, Christmas, Hanukkah, Holidays, Honest observations on many things, Huntington's Disease, Jewish, Life, Musings, My world, Personal change, Tales From the Motherland, Teens, Wonderful Things, Writing | 14 Comments

The Middle: Dear Friend.

Posted on November 28, 2012 by Dawn Quyle Landau

It’s been a very strange week. I was on a tear it up writing binger for most of November that came to a screeching halt a week ago today. A brief trip to the sun, where sunscreen and keyboards don’t mix, made for a lull. Time with my boys and Smart Guy, demanded full attention long full days left me too tired to write at night. Then, a fantastic reunion with an old and very special friend left me skipping out on my writing as well. My goal for NaNoWriMo was not just to make the 50,000 goal, but to write each day in November. I didn’t accomplish that, but in the end… it is all good. I’m doing just what I should be.

This is for all the Old Friends… and the new ones, that will someday be old friends.

Dear Friend,

It’s hard to describe how much I’ve missed you. After a few years apart, it was so wonderful to see you again this past weekend—reconnecting with someone who’s been like a sister. You’ve known me for as long as I’ve known me. You were the first person I called when my dad was killed in 1973. I called to say that I couldn’t bring the Kool Aid for the class party, but you knew that I was broken inside and you said all the right things to my ten-year old self. I remember holding the receiver from the wall phone in my den, and feeling grateful that I knew you were standing in your house— through the woods— and you got it.

You were there through the years, elementary, junior high and high school, helping me figure out what was normal and what wasn’t… and which things we couldn’t change anyway. You were my first friend when we moved to Massachusetts and have remained a friend for forty years. That giant leap of time is scary, except when I think of what it means in hours and years of friendship. When I think of so many of my life’s decisions, the events and hallmarks: going off to college, getting engaged (you and I were roommates then), comings and goings in our families, the birth of each of my children…  you are there with me. What a special thing that is. Priceless.

As in all relationships there were times when we drifted, or fractured. Like sisters who are close, there were also moments when we weren’t; but true to the friendships that last, we always found the apologies needed and regained the sweet spot. The challenges always lead us back to a good place.

Over the past few years we lost touch, for a brief time and that time was untenable, painful. I missed you through each thing that happened, through each event that I couldn’t share with you. Things felt incomplete; not sharing them with you was empty spot in my life. I missed hearing about you, and your life. Your family has long been mine, and mine has always known you.

What a sweet day when we figured out how to reconnect and move past the gap. Seeing you again it was as if there had been no lapse, no time away. Conversations begin anew, easily and free from the struggle of figuring out what to say. I am so grateful that we have found our groove again… slipped right back into the lovingly worn tracks.

There are few people who can tell my children what their mother was like when she was learning to drive—thankfully. There are not many people left, who have so many memories and examples to share with my kids about who their mother was through the years, how she came to this moment… as their mother. That is the magic of the years that connect us.

It’s what friendship is about… the ebb and flow, the sweet years and the ones that challenge you. It’s the lunches where you laugh at the same stupid jokes and share what you need to share. Checking out shoes together, shopping, and listening when hearts are hurting— hugging when hearts are full and brimming with the good stuff.  Friendship is tested by time, and challenged by life. It’s the truly good friendships that survive and flourish with both.

I am so grateful to have this in my life.

Love,   You friend

Image from the internet

This note goes to a special friend who I’ve recently reconnected with, after a few sad years apart. However, I am so lucky to have many good friends in my life. There are those that are newer and a few who have been around for a long time. Lunches and shoes and all the good stuff that I share with friends who are here and now, make my days brim with good. It’s a special thing in life, if you can say that. I don’t take it for granted, and I’m grateful for each of you.

Do you have friendships that have spanned a most of your life? What does that friend know about you that the others don’t? Come on; share a secret. What makes for a good friendship for you? Leave a comment; start a conversation.

Posted in Aging, Awareness, Blog, Blogging, Daily Observations, Life, Musings, Tales From the Motherland, Women, Women's issues, Wonderful Things, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Posted on November 26, 2012 by Dawn Quyle Landau

Lisa said it so well, I figured I’d let her hold the floor. It’s cyber-Monday, which I may not believe in… but I believe in this lovely, little book. If you’d like to purchase it for someone as a holiday gift, or a sweet hostess gift, read on and hit the links. If you live near me and would like, one, I have copies; just contact me directly. I am proud to be part of this project and grateful that Lisa made so much effort to see it to fruition. Remember, all proceeds from the sales on Amazon, go to Huntington’s Disease Society of America (HDSA). Fits in your purse, and spreads joy at the same time! Thanks Lisa.

lisakwinkler's avatarcyclingrandma

It’s CyberMonday; the day we’re supposed to shop on-line. Since that’s the ONLY way to get copies of Tangerine Tango Women Writers Share Slices of Life , here’s your chance to be part of the national marketing craze, support a good cause, and get some perfect little gifts.

For this week’s tiny taste of Tangerine Tango, I selected excerpts from essays about parents.  Though I didn’t give the writers any themes, many wrote about lessons and advice received from their mothers and fathers.

From Donna K. Barry’s “Tending: A Daughter’s Tale”

…From the time I was old enough to walk I spent my early days following Daddy around the yard. Each summer evening after supper, he’d leave the inside work behind and tend the flowers and garden. Never mind that he’d just spent all day working in someone else’s greenhouse – this was the work he loved. We’d putter…

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Posted in Honest observations on many things | 3 Comments

The Middle: Gratzi, Tak, Xie-xie, Mercí, Gracias, Dunca Shein, Thank You!

Posted on November 21, 2012 by Dawn Quyle Landau

Like so may people, it is easy to get swept up in the little things that annoy me, or make me roll my eyes back into my head: the wet weather, keeping up with meals and household chores, dogs that need walking, shopping that needs doing… the list is long. On a given day, these things can really pile up, and it sounds like one long whine. The moments of gratitude can be drowned out, in the din.

For the most part, we are not a family that prays. These days, Principessa prays for all of us, but we have not been a family that begins meals with grace. On Thanksgiving each year, however, we begin our meal with giving Thanks, true thanks, for the things that we’re grateful for in our lives. It is a tradition that I love.

Each year, I start with sharing with the guests at our table, the history of the plates, glasses and silver that they are using. Each item on my table was a gift from my husband and my grandmothers, great-grandparents, and parents. The water glasses we use are the same ones I used when I was a child, at my grandmother’s table. I can still hear her telling us not tap the Waterford with our forks, but the temptation to hear that beautiful chime, was and still is too much for children to resist. The silver was given to Smart Guy and I from his two grandmothers, when we were married; the plates, spectacular Dresden fine china was given to us by my mother. Beyond the fact that these things are beautiful, they hold special ties to people we loved, who were a big part of our lives, but are no longer with us. It is a meaningful way to start each holiday meal.

As we go around the table and say thanks, the things that people are grateful for vary. Younger children inevitably say that they are thankful for the presents they will get, the fact that they have no school, or for their moms and dads. From there, up in age, it is always meaningful to see what each person shares. Inevitably things that I may not have thought of, which have meaning to others, touch me. Often we all realize that we have more to be thankful for than we thought.

This year, I will enjoy a very quiet Thanksgiving, alone with my boys: all three of them. We will be in a sunny, warm place, and Middle Man will join us. We’ll eat at a nice restaurant; I won’t be cooking. Honestly, I am looking forward to the sun, but will miss the traditional meal and the faces around my table. I will miss having my daughter with us, and will be thinking of her safety. However, this year, I am thankful for many things.

I am thankful that my daughter has remained safe thus far, in Israel, where things are uncertain for so many Israelis and Palestinians. I am thankful that she loves what she is doing, and where she is— even if it sets my teeth on edge sometimes. I am grateful that all three of my kids are healthy, happy and good people. I am thankful that Smart Guy and I have been able to share these twenty-five years, and those three kids. I am thankful for this past year, with China and Denmark, our two exchange students, in our home. I miss them terribly and I’m so grateful that we had the chance to get to know both of them. I am thankful that my mother is no longer suffering from Huntington’s. I think of her daily, and miss her more than I ever anticipated, but it’s a true blessing that she is no longer living each day with such difficulty, unhappiness and suffering. I am thankful for family, all over the country, who I love and who love me. I am grateful for the sun that I will enjoy for a few days, after weeks of gray and rain. I am grateful each and every day, for the beautiful place where I live and the scenery that surrounds me. aI am thankful for all of the people who have taken the time to read my posts, and share in this journey. Writing has gotten me through so many things in the last year and a half, and I am grateful for the support you have shown, in reading those posts and sharing your comments with me.

Finally, I am thankful for wonderful friends, who make my life truly good. My friends have made me laugh, have brought meals, have listened and cared over this past year, when so much was happening. I am thankful for those who are new friends, and those who have been there for many years. I have been very lucky. I am very thankful for these, and many things.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Posted in Awareness, Blog, Blogging, Daily Observations, Death of parent, Foreign exchange students, Honest observations on many things, Mothers, Musings, My world, Natural beauty, News, Parenting, Tales From the Motherland, travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

Step Away From the Fritos™

Posted on November 19, 2012 by Dawn Quyle Landau

Holy bags of greasy, sweet, fried, crunchy, salty, gassy, fattening, foods Batman! I am out of control and I’m not sure what the cure is. Self control? Nada. Exercise? Limited. Awareness? Enough to know I’m in trouble here. This is probably a text book case of emotional eating, but it hardly matters. Next week I’ll be regretting this. Ok, I may regret it already… but that doesn’t seem to be stopping me.

NaNoWriMo Headquarters 2012

It’s been two weeks of NaNoWriMo and I’ve been type, type, typing, and binge, binge, binging. Foods I don’t usually eat are sneaking into my house and I’m eating them. Worse, they are not actually sneaking, I’m going to the store and buying them. Did I feel guilty walking out of the grocery store with fried chicken, a loaf of bread and a big bag of Frito Scoop™ chips. I did. so I bought some bananas too. Fruit, right? I will eat… one, to balance things out. I’ll eat a salad too. Really I will. Eventually. For now, I am eating Frito Scoops™, with only my restlessness and anxiety to scoop.

As we head into the holidays, it’s nearly impossible not to reflect on last year at this time. We had two exchange students living with us (the bright spot in that mess of a few months). My mother was sliding downhill rapidly. Life was crazy. For NaNoWriMo, I’m writing about our year as the U.N., hosting the exchange students, and all that was happening at that time. There’s a lot of processing involved, though the emotions were close to the surface anyway. I didn’t need NaNo to bring them up. The fall brought it on: the smell of leaves dissolving in the rain, the cool air and change of color, reminds me of last year, when life was unraveling and raw, and happening at warp speed. The writing has brought it more in focus. Top that with a walloping dose of concern for my daughter, who is currently living in Jerusalem, Israel, and a drizzle of fidgety anxiety over writing and screen time, and you I have a serious eating issue.

“Scenes from a trash bin”

There are hints of balanced diet in there, it’s just a little buried under the packaging. Cheese and crackers for breakfast: it’s goat cheese, that’s good for you. Frito™ scoops: uh, corn. Dark Chocolate Nutty Bits™: my new weakness. Salty, sweet, and covered in dark chocolate, they are irresistible. Hey, they have nuts which are healthy, and they come from Trader Joes. That’s good, right? Trader Joes makes healthy stuff. Dark chocolate is good for you too; I read that somewhere. I slipped in a slice of apple, sometime in the last two days. I plan to eat some salad tonight. Healthy. I’ve baked some pumpkin seeds in tamari and I eat a few of those throughout the day. Fiber, and loaded with magnesium and vitamins, pumkin seeds are very healthy. Really.  Livestrong recommends pumpkin seeds. Bonus points for baking them myself, right? OK, so too much of a good thing makes a person sick, eventually, but it’s not like it’s all junk food. That’s the  rationalization point that I’m balancing precariously on.

In the end, it’s all about balance, n’est ce pas? (Please don’t answer in French. That’s just one of the few clever phrases I know). I don’t sit and write like this all year long. So one month seems somewhat reasonable. I don’t eat like this all year long either, so the same logic applies. For the record, Little Man and I went to the movies and I did not order popcorn. Gave me the shakes a little, just smelling the popcorn and not eating it, but my stomach hurt too much from binging all day to put one more buttery, salty carbohydrate in my mouth. Well, that and the fact that a cardiac surgeon I know was sitting right behind me. That, too. I’m not sure how long it takes to actually block your arteries, or gain a whole lot of weight, but I’m not that worried… yet. This will pass. I’ll go back to eating in the semi-dsyfunctional way I usually eat. I will stop watching CNN and Bravo, in between bouts of mass word production, and after this month, I will probably not eat another Frito™ for a very long time.

Posted in Awareness, Blog, Blogging, Daily Observations, Honest observations on many things, Humor, Life, Musings, NaNoWriMo, News, Parenting, Sarcasm, Tales From the Motherland, Women, Women's issues, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

Sirens in Israel, Make Me Grind My Teeth.

Posted on November 16, 2012 by Dawn Quyle Landau

A difficult road… to peace
Image: Principessa

Let me be very clear at the outset of this post: I refuse to get into the politics of this situation. This is a tale from the Mother land, not a story of sides. It’s hard to discuss Israel and Palestine without taking sides, or talking politics… unless your child is living there. Frankly, the politics, which are stated and restated on the news— hour by hour— are inescapable, but to a mother’s heart it is really only about whether my baby is safe. Of course, that is not purely true either. There are mothers and children on both sides, and when I’m thinking of my own child, it’s impossible not to think of all the others. The images of the civilians, on both sides, remind me that there are plenty of mothers and children worrying like me. I think of my girl, and the others, but not the politics.

In our house, it is nearly impossible to discuss Israel and Palestine, and keep things calm. It’s been that way for all of my children’s lives. Peace in the Middle East, only existed way back when Smart Guy and I were first dating… it was a tenuous thing even then, but it hadn’t always seemed that way—it does not exist at our dinner table. When I was in college, I told everyone I knew that I wanted to go to Israel and live on a kibbutz. It sounded so exotic, so unique. I knew a few people who had done it, and the idea was incredibly romantic. Today, my daughter would find that hard to believe, as she begs me to visit and I stall. Instead, I graduated college, fell in love and went to grad school. In the mid-80s bombs began to go off in market places in Israel, and it looked a lot less exotic to me.

Instead of going to Israel I married a Jewish man, and my kids have gone to Israel. They have been raised on a very different image of Israel, a political and religious image. It has not been the foreign, mysterious place to them, that it was to me. They’ve never mentioned kibbutzes, but both Middle Man and Principessa have gone on Birthright trips (a program that pays for Jews around the world, to visit their “home” in Israel), and our daughter spent an entire year of college studying there. My daughter, who is nearly 23 now, has spent nearly two years there in the past four years. She loves Israel and imagines living there full time at some point. This year she is there studying religion and following her own dreams.

Jerusalem, the city my girl loves
Image: Principessa

So, as things have amped up this week between Israel and Palestine, just as things have done in the Middle East for a couple of years now—the “Arab Spring” blooming all over the region— I began watching the news a lot more. Yesterday, I found myself turning on the news throughout the day. I was grateful when my girl called to say that her school group was headed back to Jerusalem, out of harm’s way. Out of harm’s way? Smart Guy reminded me that Jerusalem and Gaza are not that close. “Imagine if this was happening in Seattle?” Uh, I’d rather not. If this was happening in Seattle, we might not fear for our lives, but we’d certainly feel it. We’d be very uneasy. “But it’s not that close. We wouldn’t be very worried.” Really? Really! I tried to eat my dinner despite my rising sense of unease. It’s hard to argue his rational positions against my gut anxiety. But I do.

First of all: The distance from Seattle to where I live is more 89 miles. Jerusalem to Gaza is 48 miles. I looked it up. Twice. I’m not a math person; so for me that is basically half the distance. Forty-eight miles is not far. It is not far at all, when missiles and my child are used in the same sentence. Second of all: he is not her mother. We are wired differently, and not just because I have hot flashes and a womb; though I believe the womb trumps all. That is my baby, my girl over there, and they are firing missiles in her direction. After Smart Guy assured me that Hamas couldn’t really “reach very far,” I woke to news this morning that there is smoke just south of Jerusalem and Hamas claims that they fired the rocket that caused that smoke. Hello! My womb aches and I’m grinding my teeth.

People who live in Israel see all of this very differently. My daughter sees this very differently. They live with this situation all year, whether it makes the news or not. The are savvy; they are practical; they do not grind their teeth… they go about their business and are aware of their surroundings. My daughter has told me countless times: “It’s much bigger in the news there (here) than it is here (Israel). We are fine.” She is her father’s daughter in so many ways. In December, Smart Guy will travel there to visit our girl. We both wanted to go, but we have another child at home and only one of us can be there at once. I’ ll be taking care of Hanukkah and holiday preparation here.  I’ll be relieved that he’s with her, but worrying that they are both there.

My superstitious nature it getting the best of me, in my anxiety. I dial my girl’s number and a message in Hebrew tells me to leave a message. Why isn’t she answering her cell? Where the hell is she? My eyes fill with tears as the sirens blare on the news. My baby can hear them I’m sure. As sense of panic rises in me, and my mind goes to dark, dark places. I tap on the table. Then I remember that with the time difference, it is now dark there; it is Shabbat, the sabbath. Her cell phone is turned off. She will not turn on her computer, her TV or electronics until sundown on Saturday. I should do the same. Turn it all off. The CNN updates are not easing my mind; the images from there do not bring me peace. Thoughts run through my mind and I knock on the (wood) table beside me. I put on my angel necklace, given to me by my aunt for troubling times. When any one of us needs it, we call an “Angel Alert,” and I know that several woman I love, and who love my girl, will wear their necklaces too. Superstition. I know that wrapping my knuckles on tables and door frames will not keep anyone safe. It’s hard to believe that this delicate necklace will have any concrete impact. But both ease my mind, a bit. That is something for now.

I am not immune to the politics. They are central, key, to what is happening there. However, in the midst of all this, I want only to know that my child is ok and that my friends there and those they love, are safe. My views do not sit easily at our dinner table; I feel alliances to both sides. There are mothers and fathers, children and loved ones on both sides, that are suffering—as the soldiers on both sides soldier on. Missiles are being fired from both sides, and that can only cause loss on either side. Each loss is paramount to a mother and father on either side. As I knock wood, and grind my teeth, there are Palestinian and Israeli parents, who have much greater cause for sleepless nights.  My womb cries: Can’t you all just play nicely? You don’t have to like each other, but try to get along. As foolish as tapping the table.

Singing Matisyahu and hoping for a good outcome. One Day, one day.  Jerusalem.

Posted in Honest observations on many things | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 22 Comments

The Middle: Sniffing Butts and Michelle Obama’s Affair (it’s all here)

Posted on November 14, 2012 by Dawn Quyle Landau

image: abc.go.com

Note: The highlighted words/phrases here take you to previous posts about that subject, or explanations of things discussed. Try it. That said, the links are not there to simply promote old posts. Most of you have either already checked these out, or don’t care, and I’m good with that. However, for the newbie—the links will take you there, friend. Welcome and have fun!

If that title didn’t bring you in out of curiosity (at least), you’re jaded, or nothing will. So now I have to keep you here… and that’s where it gets fun. This is a fun post. The fact is,  some of you are here specifically because you were searching for Butts to sniff or you think Michelle is cheating on Barack. For real. As a matter of fact, just recently an awful lot of people seem to think that Michelle is cheating on the President; while only a few were actually sniffing butts.  Ok, “a lot of people” is a relative term, but if 29 people found my blog because they were searching “Michelle Obama Affair,” how many more are out there? Of course, I had to Google Michelle Obama Affair too… crazy stuff.

I will not give links to that, you can look it up yourself, if you really think it’s worth your time. Personally I refuse to believe it. While Lance has shredded much of my fairytale naivete, I cling to my belief that some people don’t dive in the dumpster. Michelle and Barack, despite his brief flirtation with me, are on that list. Admittedly, when the “Michelle Obama Affair” search engine result started showing up in my stats more frequently, I did go look. I wondered if I’d missed something even bigger than Petreus (who has single handedly helped Lance sleep again), and I wondered what you find with that search engine, that would lead you to my blog. It’s amazing what is out there folks, but mostly some very right, right, wingnut stuff. Imagine how shocking it was for those 29  people, when they landed here and found out that I was having an affair with the President!  By the way, for those of you who have wondered what happened after I ended it: Barack wanted me desperately on Monday and Tuesday last week (November 5-6th) and then, incredibly, he just got it. I think he finally realized that a writer chick like me would only write about it, and Michelle needs him… more. He seems to have accepted that it’s over, and he stopped writing. We have all wistfully moved on.

This is what the world looks like to me
Screen shot of hits, by countries

How do I know there are butt sniffers and Michelle Obama conspiracy theorists (Who claim, btw, that if she were a Republican wife, this story would be all over the place. Because you, know, they handle our Kenyan/Muslim/smoker/ hardly-a-Christian/didn’t really win the election…President, with kid gloves)? I know how people got here because, as a blogger on Word Press I get daily statistics on my blog.  In addition, I can view the cumulative stats as well: from the week, the month, or up to a year. I can see what countries the readers come from; often one of my favorite parts. My readers from Denmark have dipped considerably since the U.N. disbanded; I’ve never seen China on the list. Generally I check the number of hits per day (how many people landed on—not necessarily read— my blog) and what they read. If I was more motivated or technically savvy (though I did edumacate myself to take screen shots), I might then use that information to tailor my blogs to readers’ preferences.  Mostly I just find it very amusing. For someone who is relatively clean and non-offensive in her posts (for the most part, relatively, I think…), it is really amusing to see how many people land here by accident, searching for… well, sexual content at the least and smut at the worst.

What people are reading
screen shot

I’ve said it before: my post Call Me Prissy… Butt gets hits Every. Single. Day. In fact, it has the third highest number of hits of all time.  The number one hit is the Home page/Archives: which just means that more people land on one specific post and then go to the home page to see what else is there. That’s good. That means that when they land here, many people take a minute to look around. The second most commonly hit post is The Grass Is Always Greener on Someone Else’s Head, but that is because it was Freshly Pressed. Most of those hits came in the two weeks on and around the date it was Pressed.  Frankly it is not my best post, but I think the title caught their eye, and it had something that people connected to. What I enjoyed most were the hundreds of amazing comments. I answered every one, and was really impressed with the cool stories people shared with me about their hair.

I have no doubt, that in time Prissy Butt will top them all. There are an awful lot of people searching for photos of thong underwear, young girls in underwear, and more than any other search engine: panty lines; and those searches seem to lead them to Prissy Butt, which (for the record, again) may come as a big disappointment to those particular readers. Panty lines, Hmm. Begs the question: Are way too many women worried about panty lines, or are way too many perverts looking to see panty lines? I find it intriguing. Again, from a gal who mostly writes about her kids, her thoughts on parenting, and being a woman my age, who doesn’t worry that much about her panty line— imagine how many disappointed visitors there are out there!

Most recent search engine stats
Screen shot

Strangely enough, a lot of people ended up here looking for Criss Angel. I never really wrote about him, but I saw one of his products when I was lost in Bed, Bath and Beyond, once. He’s a hip “magician” or illusionist, who has probably never read my blog and yet we seem to be linked in the world of search engines. I imagine those are just more disappointed people, finding a middle aged blogger instead of an edgy showman. Talk about illusion. If I knew what I was doing with search engines, I’d lasso that baby and really up my blog status. I’m not, and that fact leads to lots of spam mail offering me help with my searchability and visibility, and a few other interesting offers.  Thank goodness for “mass delete.” Lots and lots of spammers find me and send me mail, that Word Press kindly and accurately filters for me, so that I can read the real comments that some of you kindly take the time to leave for me.

People have found me searching with fairly benign search engines, which include: “Beautiful Prudes, (whatever)”  “What is the motherland of popcorn, (What? What is it?)” “Passive Aggressive Control Freaks,” (which I did in fact cop to, but have probably slipped a little since then), various takes on Olympians and hook ups, surfing hand signals,  yoga, “what to wear to a middle school dance,” “beans flowers,” “crabs fishing boats,” “كريس انجل 2012” (Arabic for Criss Angle), and lots of things to do with melanoma, some of which actually cross into the smut department and many of which are people looking for answers regarding melanoma. I must say: please do not come here for advice! I only play a professional on a blog and I confused BBQ sauce for melanoma!

But what strikes me over and over is the truly bizarre, freaky, twisted, at times truly unsettling search engines that bring people to Tales From the Motherland. These are real phrases: “Panty ass,” “Wearing no underwear,” “I like to see girls pee their pants” (you will not see it here buddy. I promise.) “juke nose bra” (whaaat?), “blat girl mombed around now down video” (really), “ass fork thong” (oh dear G^d!), “sniffing butts, (geez! It was about dogs)” and perhaps the most bizarre of all: “lick your horny mom baby written stories.” Ok, seriously who is looking for all of that in one phrase? Wait, don’t tell me; don’t contact me. But believe it or not, two separate searchers! The list is way too long and stunningly consistent in the eyebrow raising absurdity of the terms. It’s enough to give me a complex… make me worry about who is really out there.

However, I  find comfort in the knowledge that by far, very far, most people end up here because they subscribe to the blog; they like the blog and know what they’re getting; or they found me via another blogger and want to see what’s here. If you look at the nearly 36,000 hits since I’ve started, the stats on search engines account for a very small portion. Most people got here because they meant to be here. Phew! And of the search engine people, again, the highest number came for two specific posts and the Prissy Butts, well… they amuse me, even if they’re searches trouble me. In the end, I’ll keep writing about my world: “straight up with a twist,” and people will find me. The fun, the average, the interested, and the twisted.

Leave me a comment, tell me what you think. If you laughed or were shocked or went to see whether Michelle Obama is cheating, hit Like and make me smile too.

Posted in Blog, Blogging, blogs, Daily Observations, Education, Freshly Pressed, Honest observations on many things, how blogs work, Humor, Life, Musings, My world, News, Obama, Sarcasm, Tales From the Motherland, The U.N., Women, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

Livestrong or Die: It Is In Fact About The Bike.

Posted on November 12, 2012 by Dawn Quyle Landau

At the peak, the super athlete
Image: inquisitr.com

Oh how I hate to spend time on this— and yet my brain keeps coming back to Lance. The endless media coverage and the news stories daily of his fall from grace have become exhausting. I have questioned over and over whether to contribute to the dialogue or not; but then I got caught up in a documentary on CNN last night, The World According to Lance Armstrong, and I found myself all pissy again. What makes me pissy about this story is not that Lance isn’t the great human being that everyone thought he was; that he lied and lied and lied. I stopped thinking he was a good human being when I read It’s Not About The Bike. His arrogance, his betrayal of his first wife—who had stood by him through his cancer and so much more, there were plenty of reasons to not think Lance Armstrong was a swell guy. What bugs me is the betrayal of everyone who believed in hard work and amazing athletic achievement.

Still my hero: Ali
Image: sportshistoryguy.com

Even if I don’t love to cycle, myself, I watched parts of the Tour every year that Lance rode it. I watched because he was magnificent, and I believe in magnificence. I don’t love basketball, but Michael Jordan gave me chills every time he levitated over the hoop and dropped that ball in. Chills.  Mario Andretti made me whoop and holler as a kid, and Muhammad Ali still makes me believe in super heroes. It’s the Kelly Slaters (surfing), Bobby Orrs (hockey- whose autograph I once had and traded for, nothing), Picabo Streets (skiing), Venus and Serena Williams‘ (tennis a deux), Yvon Chouinard (climbing), Carl Yastrzemskis (baseball), the Alis, the Jordans and the Armstrongs that make my eyes well up and my skin get all goose bumpy. I am not much of an athlete myself, but just as I recognize the brilliance of Van Gogh (even if I can’t paint a starry sky like him), I have always admired the brilliance of athletes who excel in their sports. The truly great ones make you believe that if you were on skis, you could fly straight down a hill too. That you could catch the edge of a wave and drag your hand behind you, smiling. Great athletes are poetry and beauty, in the human form.

Lance has ruined that image far beyond cycling. He has blown the image to bits, spit on it, and then done an arrogant little shit dance on the smoldering heap. Stop: don’t let my words, exaggerated a tiny bit for the sake of prose, distract you from my point. I may not be losing sleep over this, but it really does hit me in a tender spot. There are not enough heros to cheer in this world. The fact that Lance Armstrong beat cancer and then went on to ride his bike up and over mountain after mountain, helped me believe that we all can get back on our bikes.  I cheered him, year after year, not because I love cycling (or all those guys look so nice in those shorts) but because his determination and hard work felt worthy of cheers.

When he told us, over and over and over, that he was not doping I believed him. He said it with such conviction and without hesitation. He did not blink, or look away when asked. “I never used illegal substances, or performance enhancing drugs.” He said it so many times that I believed he had to be telling the truth, and that made me root for him more. I really believed that all those losers, the sour grapes, were just pissing on his success. It was the countless assertions of his innocence and passionate denials that made the fall that much more dizzying.

Looking a little less confident
Image: keepingscore.blogs.time.com

Wait, he still denies it; he may still be innocent; you say? Is there still anyone out there that believes in his innocence? I really figured that I am one of the last of the holdouts. Gullible to the end. If you’ve read any of the recent stories about this, if you’ve watched any of the documentaries, it’s nearly impossible to believe in Lance Armstrong anymore. I suppose that the true hold outs could argue that he still won all those Tours, up against so many other athletes who were also doping, but what a sad dose of reality. Each and every cyclist who participated in these illegal practices (and so many have been exposed in this investigation, that fans can only ask: “Who did not dope?”) shat on the dreams and beliefs of the thousands of kids who believe in real life super heroes. They shat on every one of us who got goose bumps in the face of magnificence, and that’s what bothers me most.

How can we ever watch the Tour again and believe that any of those athletes are truly powering up those killer hills: in the heat, in the rain, with scrapes and cuts, sleep deprived and spent—on their own determination and strength? To those of you who never watched the Tour, and don’t care about cycling, I would argue that this issue casts a specter on so many other sports and athletes. Given the heroes that have fallen in other sports for the same charges, it’s hard not to wonder if any athletic record really counts anymore. It’s hard not to clap, and then hold your breath and wait for the fall. If Lance, who else?

Is it any wonder that old folks like me cling to our Alis and our Andrettis and our Billy Jean Kings? Doping wasn’t the issue it is now, and the heroes of 20 and 30 years ago seem shinier and truer today, for the rust that younger athletes have brought to the world of sports. As much as I want to believe in the Michael Phelps’, the Usain Bolts’, and countless other younger athletes, it seems that doping is rampant in nearly every sport, and the few who have fallen big cast their shadow on all the athletes still standing.

I resent what Armstrong’s lies have done to the magic of athletics as a whole. Plenty of athletes have cheated on their spouses, done morally questionable things, but it’s Armstrong’s flagrant disregard for the integrity of the sport that really hits me where my gullible lived. In the same way Pete Rose‘s fall broke so many baseball hearts, I feel deceived and let down for the entire world of sports, that I love to admire and root for. It makes me cynical in a way that I have fought to avoid most of my life. Just as I love and cling to the technicolor world of Tinker Bell, I love believing in those heroes on the field/court/road/ slope/ mountain. However, now I my goose bumps are little less goosy. It makes me sad for all of the kids who believed in him, and are now growing up believing that super heroes cheat. When the giants fall, the aftershocks linger much longer and Armstrong was as big as big can get.

In the end, it was about the bike, Lance. That’s what you lost site of. It’s about the simple, most basic virtue of respecting your bike, and being true to it, and all those who support and believed in your efforts. There are no short cuts to greatness, and there shouldn’t be. The magnificence that has always stirred me was all about the journey, the effort and commitment that great athletes put out to make that lay up shot, that half pipe, that slalom and that surge to the finish look so achievable… if only we believe in it and work for it. How sad to have my beliefs shaken and diminished, by one yellow jersey.

**Did Lance Armstrong’s fall surprise you? Or, did you think he was guilty all along (really)? Do you still believe in his innocence? Or is all of this just silly to you and you wonder what all the fuss is about? Share your thoughts.

Of Note: I have used Wikipedia for several links here. It’s not that I believe they are always absolutely accurate, but they provide the easiest summaries. Wikipedia doesn’t pay me for their endorsements… but they should. Also of note: I am well aware that there are countless superb athletes, super hero athletes, in other countries. I live in the U.S., so that is where I focused. There are great athletes and great athletes who have fallen, in many other places.

Other stories you might want to check out: The World According to Lance Armstrong (CNN video/trailer); Lance Armstrong case is tip of the iceberg…; Lance Armstrong Olympic Medal…; Doping scandal costs Lance Armstrong sponsor, charity role…;

Posted in Awareness, Blog, Blogging, Education, Ego, Life, Musings, My world, News, Personal change, Tales From the Motherland, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

It’s No Shave November… Which Leads to The Dreaded Perv Stache

Posted on November 9, 2012 by Dawn Quyle Landau

It’s No Shave November. What you say, you’ve never heard of No Shave November? Neither had I. As a matter of fact, when my 16 year old son, Little Man, told me that he was participating in NSN, I thought it was something to do with Cross Country (running). The season just ended and the entire Varsity squad shaved their heads. Thankfully (not really), Little Man was not on Varsity this year; he would look like war survivor with no hair. However, I figured that not shaving their faces, must go with shaving their heads. Makes sense, if you think about it in a high school aged boy kind of way.

When I asked Little Man what it was, first he said: “Everyone knows what No Shave November is Mom.”  Well, clearly I’m not everyone. Or, maybe it’s a secret guy thing?  “No Mom.”  (Translation: Duh Mom. I can’t believe I have to tell you this)  He continued. “It has to do with men’s cancer.”  What kind of cancer?  “Uh, just cancer… All cancers… Men’s cancers.”  I looked at him skeptically.  Men’s cancers?   “It’s just fun! I’m doing it for fun.”  Oh. Well, no shaving for a month?   “I know, I’m getting a perv stache already; I’m going to look ridiculous.”  For fun. I kept that to myself.

So we’re nine days into November and Little Man has the dreaded per stache. You don’t know what a perv stache is either? That one I got a few years ago. Goes with the territory of raising “boys to men.” Technically, a perv stache is facial hair that makes a guy look like a “perv,” aka: a pervert. If you think about it: in so many of the mug shots of sex offenders and “perverts,” they have thick moustaches or beards, that they can then be shaved off if officials are looking for them. If you’re still wondering what that looks like, here are some images (If you scan the images, you too can see the true pervness of the term. You too may also wonder why there’s a picture of Miley Cyrus with all those pervs).  It was no great leap for teen boys to correlate thin facial hair to offenders and then call it a perv stache. Teen boys can nickname anything. So, when a boy grows just enough hair across their upper lip, to cast a shadow or leave a raggedy line, it’s called a perv stache. Little Man has one.  Yeah, wonderful image for my sweet kid.

It’s not like Little Man has to shave a lot anyway. When I told Smart Guy that our boy was doing NSN, he said: “Isn’t that kind of pointless? Doesn’t he basically do No Shave August, September, October and November?” I really should just call him Funny Guy. Do you even know what No Shave November is about? I asked Smart Guy, with a side of  superiority. No need for him to know that I’d just found out too.  “No, should I?” Well yes you should. It’s to bring awareness to Men’s Cancer. “Oh. I’ve never heard of it. What kind of cancer?”  No words necessary; a roll of the eyes conveys so much more.

Image: coloringinthedark.wordpress.com

So, of course I Googled “No Shave November.” That’s what I do; I Google. According to Google, the whole thing started in Australia and New Zealand. That makes perfect sense to me, as the Aussies will do just about anything to have bushy fun. Having spent three months there in college, I say that with authority. It took me years to recover from those three months. They are generally fun loving and silly folks in their youth, and thinking up No Shave November just seems so Australian. Initially it was just a fun way to grow facial hair and post silly pictures of yourself. Again, so Australian. There were all kinds of contests to see who would grow the most hair. Then it became linked with prostate and testicular cancer, and eventually awareness of all cancers for men. Way to go Aussies! Primarily, it is still focuses on Prostate and Testicular Cancer, and the entire thing is called No Shave November, or Movember (the blending of moustache and November).

Prostate cancer awareness is a cause I’ve supported for years, while somehow missing this whole no shave thing. Of course, that in itself may be part of the problem with the idea of No Shave November/Movember: not enough people know what it means.  There are areas of the country where not shaving in November, simply means that it’s deer hunting season. I know; I lived there. When I see men growing facial hair, I’ve never wondered if it had anything to do with their prostate, and I’m guessing that plenty of others haven’t either. Smart Guy’s a physician and he didn’t know what it was; not a good sign. That’s a problem. If you see a pink ribbon, you know what it means. Women don’t go bralesss for a month, or not shave their legs, to bring a awareness to Breast cancer. Both of those things would get attention, but not the kind desired.

Getting this tattoo.
Image: borderlessnewsandreviews.com

Of course, as is often the case, we don’t always pay attention to things until they effect us directly. However now that I have a perv stache in the house, it’s enough to make a mother Google and hustle to make sense of a situation. I needed to know more about No Shave November. It took some digging, but in the end I found the point of all these hairy faces. NSN lead me to the term Movember and that lead to Men’s cancer. Aha! I have a No Shaver in the house, albeit a p-stacher, for cancer awareness.  The more I read, the stupider I felt. How had I not known this? I’ve got “boys to men” in my house; it should have come up sooner.  However, as I read light bulbs began to flip on; neurons zapped; and I began to see that I’d missed a few cues along the way. I also missed a couple of blogs along the way.

Another blogger, Clown On Fire was posting about this all last month, as the kick off to an entire blogging movement in support of Movember. In my defense, Le Clown is just too edgy for me. His snark makes my snark look passive. Often Sometimes I miss the point. When I saw he was doing Movember, I recall skimming some of it and deciding it was another clever venue that I just was not smart enough for, and did not have time for… because I was getting ready for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) which is also in November, and which I’m participating in. (You can see daily updates of my progress at the Tales From the Motherland Facebook page. While you’re there, hit like. There’s not really a lot to like, but it won’t hurt you to do it anyway.) I thought it was just another blog spin-off.  Several bloggers I follow have done that, and honestly it gets to be too much. I can’t follow it all.  So, feeling stupid under Le Clown’s Big Top, I stopped looking at the Movember posts and updates way back when he first started posting about it. I missed it all until Little Man told me he was growing facial hair for men’s cancer. Second Duh.

Ironically, Le Clown (of Clown On Fire) just let his readers know that that he did not want trolls on board. There’s another term for y’all, “troll”: bloggers who post negative or inflammatory comments on other blogs to stir things up, or *bloggers who refer to more famous bloggers in their own posts, in the hope of having the famous blogger notice them. For the record, I am not a troll. Either troll. It is true mystical timing that my son grew a perv stache + I figured out what NSN/Movember was, just when the Clown slammed trolls.  Personally, I get nervous around Le Clown, so I’m fine not being noticed by him. That said, I did race right back to look at all the Movember stuff he wrote and to try and figure out how I missed the baton. There’s no self-redeeming  explanation; I just skipped missed it. However, when I did read it, I was impressed. So, for the record: I am not sending you his way for personal gain; he just happens to rock the whole Movember thing.  If you’d like to learn more about the online movement, check out Clown on Fire’s post: Bloggers for Movember. You can also read his kick off post: Bloggers for Movember Official Kick Off! You will note that Eric Le Clown has upped the ante and linked his Movember efforts to mental health issues for men, as well. As a former social worker, I found this especially meaningful, and that much more groan worthy that I’d skipped reading the posts. Can I hear a third Duh?

I’m all in for Movember, aka: No Shave November

(<—No, silly, that is not real facial hair, but it’s the thought that counts!)

It’s interesting what your eyes don’t see, when your brain has taken a holiday. Movember, or No Shave November, is all over the place. It’s in the news, it’s on YouTube, it’s all over the blogosphere (end of post). I just missed it. But like Ebenezer Scrooge or George Bailey, I figured it all out just in time. All’s well that ends well; it’s only November 9th. I learned a few important things; had my ego kicked back to the curb, and now I’m on board too. When I look at Little Man’s chocolate milk stain of a stache I can smile, knowing that he’s a conscientious boy who is doing this for a greater cause. Even if it’s also “fun.” Even if it makes a Mom like me want to spit on my finger and try to rub the smudge on his upper lip—off. Unlike his mother, Little Man at least knew what it all meant, for the most part. No more comments about the stache. No more jokes or scowls. I will not get my lip waxed until December 1st. I’m all in.

If you want to support the cause of cancer and mental health awareness for men, and you support the hard work of bloggers/writers like me, follow the links above for Clown on fire, and there you will find links that welcome your donations. If you thought there’d be a photo of Little Man’s perv stache at the end of this blog; you are not the mother of a teen boy. It’s bad enough that I wrote about this; there is no way that he would pose for publicity. No, you will have to make do with the Google images I’ve provided. No doubt, you will look at teen boys’ upper lips very differently from now.. and that’s just creepy.

Do you have a teen boy who’s not shaving this month? Do you still lick your finger and try to clean things off your kids; and really piss them off in the process? Or, is that so gross that you just decided that there is in fact something wrong with me? “Straight up with a twist,” did you think I was making that up? Or, is he not shaving because there’s nothing to shave? Did you know what NSN and Movember were about? If all these questions don’t move you to comment, nothing will.  Share your thoughts. Prove that I was the last one to know.

A few other blog posts to check out regarding Movember: Squidoo; Clown on Fire; The Waiting; ARKive and Problogger. There are so many more, just go out and look.

Posted in Activist, Awareness, Blog, Blogging, blogs, Daily Observations, Education, Honest observations on many things, how blogs work, Humor, Life, Musings, My world, News, Women, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 14 Comments

The Middle: This Is Not About the Election.

Posted on November 7, 2012 by Dawn Quyle Landau

This is The Middle. The Middle of the week, and the day I try to write a shorter post. Not today. I’m exhausted and have no time… no time as in, I’m taking time from the things I really need to do today (like drive 4 hours to get my car back) to tell you I’m not writing a new post… or not really. Technically, this is already a new post, with each word I type. That would get old, or has already. I can assure you this, aside from a brief acknowledgement of said election, this post is not about politics. It is not about the months of candidate’s rhetoric, ads or coverage. This is not about the election.

Kick back; relax; and read some Tales.
Image: abc.go.com

So, I’m suggesting you take the day to read the news. There’s a lot of it. Whether your guy won or not, there’s a lot to think about and I am hoping that we can all move on from the back biting and meanness of the last few months and try to find some middle ground. We need it. Truth be told, I will miss all of the comedy. SNL, Jon Stewart, Colbert, have been very funny at times… but even that gets old.  If my guy had lost (there I said it), there is no doubt I would be in shock this morning and thinking of the woulda, coulda, shouldas (also the title of a very early post, that I like)… why didn’t I drive voters to the poll? Why did I break up with Barack (a fun and clever post, if I do say so. I do. Say so), when he needed me most? It’s hard to move on from something that most of us were very invested in, one way or another.

None the less, I’ve always believed that you do your best to demonstrate sportsmanship. Reading some of the posts today “Four more years of this Bozo,” or “four more years of the White Prince,” or just plain old comments that wish the President and others bad fortune, leaves a really bad taste in my mouth. I know that I would not be doing the same, and when Little Man made a critical comment last night, I let him know that both sides worked hard, and there should be no gloating, name calling or mean stuff. When it looked like it might go the other way, he and I had a very honest and good conversation about how to move beyond our own politics to work on progress. I believe in that. Sour apples, do not make anything sweet.

If you’ve had enough of the news, then of course I’d like to keep you here. I’d like to see my hard work rewarded with readers. That’s what it’s there for.  Here are a few posts that I really had fun with, think are important, or just think deserve another chance. Some are from back when I was just starting this blog, so lots of you weren’t here yet. Others are more recent. Check them out. You are of course free to look through the archives and find something on your own. It’s all good.

Check these posts out: because they are funny, poignant, silly, or just worth your time. Click on the title to go to the post. If you enjoy them, take a minute and hit like; then tell me what you think. Leave a comment.  Also, IF you are participating in NaNoWriMo this month, I’d love some company! Stop over at the Tales From the Motherland Facebook page, and share your thoughts and numbers with me. I’d love to share the ride.  Have a good day people!

Th first post that I want to share is, Call Me Gay, Call Me A Fag

Too young to die.
Jamey Rodemeyer

This post means a lot to me because I think the problem is just as big now, but perhaps the political climate is changing and will help? Our state, Washington, passed a law allowing same sex marriage yesterday. I am proud to live in a place where everyone has equal rights to divorce, or to live happily ever after. One of Little Man’s friends posted: “Yay! Now my moms can finally marry!” What a message for a 17 year old… her mothers, who have been together her entire life, can now be acknowledged legally. Haters, don’t say a word. This, in my opinion, is a beautiful thing.

News Flash: It’s a Hot Flash (If you haven’t already, read yesterday’s post, it’s good); The Grass is Always Greener on Someone Else’s Head (this was Freshly Pressed. I don’t think it’s my best work, but Word Press liked it); Peace (I wrote this in the half hour after my mother died. Those moments are still with me);  The Joy of The Saddle and Buckle

The Tetons and Yellowstone, where my mind wanders

Bunnies (if you don’t know what a BB is, read this. The end of my Yellowstone trip, when I ran away and found my voice again. If you enjoy this post, there are several more about that trip); Remembrances, Aspirations and a Crooked Tree (because my father has a birthday in November, and that is never far from my mind); Updates From the U.N. (because I’m working on a book about it, and having those two exchange students was the best time ever!); Is It Just Me, Or Does This Weather Make Me Look Bitchy? (because it’s one of my earlier posts, and it still rings true. Hmm, no change); A Couple of Wrong Turns Can Make All the Difference (because I’d be back in in Yellowstone in a minute, and it’s not everyday I pick up old men); Would You Take a Bullet for A Math Test? (from a few weeks ago. I think Malala Yousafzai needs to stay in our thoughts. Her recovery is going much better than anyone anticipated!); Call Me Prissy… Butt (hell, I just get a kick out of seeing how many people read this each day!); and finally This is Not Just a Tail, But A True Love Story (because everyone loves a dog story, and Callie was the best ever!); Conceptual Baby (read this for the comments. Yes, the comments.  The artist Robert Fones, who this is about, read this post and wrote an amazing response. I was proud to get it, and it’s amazing to read); Frankly, several of the posts in September and October were poorly visited. Go back and show them some love.

Again, feel free to just search my archives all day.

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