With Heartfelt Apologies to Tina Fey

(Remember Sarah Palin? In October, 2008 I published this essay “in Sarah’s own voice” in Main Line Life newspaper. Like yesterday’s posted essay, this one still seems oddly current. And who knows, maybe Sarah is still waiting in the wings…)

Alrighty, folks… We have just a couple a short weeks ‘til Election Day. That greatest of American traditions in this great country of ours that I so love. The country of which I so want to be your President-in-waiting. So, so much do I want that.

And from my mouth to God’s ear, I would not want such a terrible occurrence to occur, but if the terrible thing did happen (wink, wink) and I was called up by a higher power to be your Commander-in-Chief, I want to tell you that I am ready. I am more than ready. I’m chompin’ at the bit. I am hotter for attention than a tick on a moose. Oh, gosh, you know what I mean. Don’tcha?

Well, as Todd and I always say, “God is not only great, but He has a sense of humor.” Cuz look at us! Just a couple a months ago I was at a PTA meeting, or maybe it was a soccer game, somethin’ for Trick or Track or one of the others, I know that much. And I said to Todd, “Doggone it, 1st Dude, honey, I wish there was a way to bring our small town core values to the rest of our Great Country.” 1st Dude is my nickname for him, ya know. Cuz we are just down-to-earth folks like you all. With nicknames and such, like small town people do. Cuz we are so more real with real values.

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Election Overload

(This essay, published in Main Line Life on 9/18/08 is still surprisingly applicable to today’s climate…)

I recently had the opportunity to go on a short trip to a place where I would not have access to a television for several days. After I leaned over and hyperventilated into a paper bag for a few moments, I thought Yes, I can do this. It’s not even that I am that big of a TV watcher in my normal life. Normal life, that is, before this primary and election season. (Was there such a time? Truly?) Even though I have my office in my home I have never once turned on The View or The Today Show. I have never seen a soap opera in my entire life, and I don’t even know what time Oprah is on.

However, I do love politics. And, as much as I love knowing everything about the candidates and want to make an informed decision, right now I am on Election Overload. I never thought I would say this, but I’ve just about had enough of all of them – the candidates, the pundits, the spinners, the handlers, the talking heads, the anchors, the special commentators, the candidates’ families, jilted candidates from years past, jilted ex-wives, outright kooks, former Army buddies/college roommates, Hollywood activists, and the pollsters. Especially the pollsters.

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Girl Scout Stories

(This short story is original to my website today. Any resemblance to my life as a former Girl Scout leader for my daughter’s troop is purely coincidental… Or not.)

We had all gotten together to commiserate, as women often do, about husbands and children and weight gain and technology. Also, the rudeness and slovenly, whorish dressing of today’s youth, our own children excluded of course. (We politely didn’t mention Bertie’s daughter Robin, who had been spotted at Starbucks with her school uniform skirt rolled up within an inch of her life, three earrings in one ear and too much eye liner.) Bertie herself had sighed to us that Robin now had a butterfly tattoo on her lower back right above the crack of her ass. (Bertie didn’t say the crack of her daughter’s ass; that was my husband’s comment when I told him about it. He said girls were doing that so that when they had sex from behind, the guy would see the tattoo and get more turned on.)

We were having lunch at Café Mediterraneo. Before becoming Café Mediterraneo this same location had been home to El Sombrero Loco, Hunan Palace, and a French “bistro” that none of us can now remember the name of. Its international pedigree has kept us coming here for lunch over the past two decades. Every time there is a change of menu, we hope for the best, and go somewhere else during the remodel. But we always come back. We are nothing if not loyal. Continue reading

A Woman’s Guide to Guilt

(This essay was originally published in the mid-90s, but amazingly, it still applies to today…)

I think we are in danger of becoming a nation of perfectionists. Lately I have noticed a certain feeling of collective guilt in people that I have never been aware of before.

Take my friend Arabella. She recycles everything, uses cloth diapers, is President of the PTA, bakes homemade zucchini breads for the homeless, and is generally perfect at everything. Her husband has low cholesterol, thanks to her “heart healthy” way of cooking, and her children are well-behaved and get all A’s.

I went over to see her the other day, and she was depressed. This is not like Arabella, who always has a smile on her face, and a needlework project in her hands to work on if she has three unscheduled minutes. Continue reading