Sassistas! Our dish on the social soup.

Lines of Connection

Yesterday afternoon, a Verizon technician showed up at Flannista's home to repair a very staticky phone line that was also impacting my internet connection. He hoisted a ladder to a connection box at the end of my court, and then hoisted another ladder several blocks away at a larger connection box. After 20 minutes, Derrick told me that the problem was "old copper wire that Verizon doesn't want to fix anymore because they want you to upgrade to fiberoptics. But don't worry, I fixed it. I put in a new line for you.  It should be good for a while."

Derrick then stepped into my living room to retrieve some important-looking-repair-thingy he had asked me to insert into one of my phone jacks. I went upstairs to check out both the phone and internet lines and when I walked back downstairs, I saw Derrick staring at the art on the walls.

DERRICK:  Did you paint all of these?

FLANN:  No, I just collect it.

DERRICK:  I've never seen so much art in a living room.  Everywhere I look I see something I want to look at longer.

FLANN:  Thank you.  Repairmen don't usually have that response to this art.

DERRICK: But I'm not a repairman.  I'm a poet.  I write poems and short stories.  I publish them online in MySpace.  I've always wanted to paint -- you know, paint myself.

FLANN: Why?

DERRICK: How can you go through life without baring your soul?  You've got to put it out there, man. Look at yourself in that deep way. Send that healing right out there.

FLANN: You ARE a poet.  Thanks for making my day.

DERRICK: Thanks for making mine.  I'll never again see anything like this in someone's house.

FLANN: And I'll never see repairmen the same way again. Thank you.

At the moment, the static is gone from my phone line and the internet seems to be humming along.  The connections -- so many of them -- are working beautifully.

 

Essential Gifts

Today Flannista's First Graders wrestled with telling a story based on their sense of smell -- the last of the five senses.  "You can use all FIVE sense to tell your story," I tell them. "If you don't know what to write, then LOOK, or LISTEN or TOUCH or TASTE or SMELL!"  I brought in six of my essential oils (above) and put a drop of each on a cotton swab and asked the kids to tell me what they smelled.  They were flummoxed by Frankincense, of course, and thought it SMELLED REALLY YUCKY!!!!!  Then I told them a story about it. This is what one of the kids wrote when it was time to write her story today:

What I loved about this story is how she admits that it smelled "descusting" [disgusting], but she felt a little bit better when I told them about the Gifts of the Magi.  She still ends her story with, "It smelt bad."  Good for her for sticking to her truth!  That's the real gift she brings!

 

Resonate

Like, I'm so sure.

Even if you don't like the band, Journey, you totally have to watch their new video above. It's like, soooo bonus.

Remember the Salahis and, like, how they crashed a White House dinner?  Turns out Michaele Salahi left her husband Tareq (his name is so gross!) for Journey's guitarist Neal Schon!!!!  So, like, on Valentine's Day, the band released the video to their latest single, "Resonate". It is SOOO AWESOME.  Michaele and Neal make out and EVERYthing on the beach. Just like I do!!!  It is so totally awesome!

But Tareq (that name is so barf) has filed a suit for $50 million against Michaele for "a lost-reality show contract for $150,000".  What-EVer.  He's so mean because the video is, like, KILLER.  I'm in junior high school and I should know when something is like, really, really, really good.  

One of my friends (NOT!)  asked me what "resonate" means.  As if!  Who cares if you can make out on a beach?????!!!!! Duh! That is so totally rez!

 

2012 Best in Show

 

A Pekingese named Malachy won Best in Show

at the 136th annual Westminster Kennel Club.

The 4-year-old puff ball won his 115th overall best in show title.

Really?  The Pekingese?

DISCUSS.

 

In Our Hearts

 HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

This year, Flannista received the sweetest cards for Valentine's Day -- and each made some sort of reference to the place I had in someone's heart. 

"We keep people in our hearts because it is safe there and full of love," says the card on the top, left. Inside the inscription simply says, "You are in my heart."  The hand-made card below that has a clever "Wheel of Fortune" theme. Bottom right is a lovely card from PEACEsista that included a hand-made beaded keychain made by the Maasai women of Tanzania (at top right). "Whether you can see it or not," writes PEACE, "visualize it as holding the key to my heart. You ALWAYS are welcome & have a home there."

Warm sentiments for a cold season.  Love to all.

Heart Attack

At 7:19 EST this morning, Flannista got a call from her father with the news that my mother had had a heart attack. He called from his car on the way to the hospital. He had no information other than that.

Ten minutes ago, my oldest sister called to tell me that my mother was out of emergency and in a hospital room where she, according to my sister, "sounded feisty" -- my sister's way of saying my mother was pissed to be there.  Tests are being run, etc., but apparently my mother had "decades of untreated high blood pressure" which has damaged her heart.  She never went to the doctor.  My father had a very serious heart attack in 2004 and had quintuple by-pass surgery. None of us knew that my mother also had heart disease.

She's alive.  I'll keep you posted and would covet your prayers.

Mean Man

Today's was Flannista's fourth class with her precious First Graders, and before we actually started class, Flann wrote two words on the white board and asked the kids to think about what those words meant. The two words were: VITAL METRICS.  For those of you new to the sass stream this week, "Vital Metrics" was the theme of a speech given by a CEO at a company annual meeting this week.  

"What do these two words mean?" Flann asked the class. Following are their answers:

• "The man who said this is very mean."
• "Busy staff"
• "Metal"
• "Words stacking up"
• "He wants everyone to think he's a big grown-up."
• "This person wants to be famous."
• "This person wants people to know he can do anything he wants to."

Out of the mouths of babes.

Today's lesson was on writing based on what we can taste.  I shall post several lessons in the sass stream, but here's one of the writing exercises:

The purple object after the exercise is pizza, by the way.  Why purple?  "To match Miss Flann's hair."

 

Know Your Place

Three weeks ago today, Flannista finally had lunch with the Chief Financial Officer of all of TRM's companies. I had asked him in November if I could take him out to lunch; three months later, our schedules finally synched. His executive assistant told me that he preferred to eat lunch at the office and ordered what each of us wanted from the Panera Bread menu. She then arranged for us to meet in one of TRM's small dining rooms. Because he had been sick with the stomach flu for several days, the CFO simply ordered a bowl of chicken soup. I ordered a Fugi Apple salad.

When I arrived at the dining room, I saw two place settings.  At one place setting was a linen placemat with a china bowl filled with chicken soup sitting on a large china plate.  Next to the plate was a complete set of sterling silver utensils, including a soup spoon and a linen napkin. To the upper right of the plate was a crystal glass filled with ice.  Next to the glass was a can of Diet Coke. 

The other place setting included a bottle of water next to a sealed Panera Bread box. No china. No silver. No crystal glass. No ice. No linen napkin. Going on a hunch, I opened up the box. Inside was the Fugi Apple salad in its plastic container. Also inside was a set of hermetically-sealed plasticware with napkin and a cookie.

The CFO was 50 minutes late for our lunch. Even though we had a very open and honest conversation, I couldn't quite get past knowing my place.

Three times while I waited for him, his assistant entered the small dining room, took his chicken soup and heated it up in a nearby microwave.

He didn't touch one drop of the soup.

I ate my entire salad.  Drank my bottle of water. Easily disposed of the box. Went back to shooting a video. Saved my cookie. I ate it later in my hotel room, alone. No china. No silver. No crystal glass. No ice. No linen napkin. 

It tasted great.

 

 

 

Who Is This Guy?

A special weekend "Meet the Sass" from Westsista!

• Ran for president of the United States
• Born outside the continental U.S.
• Had a childhood without much money
• Teased by other children calling him racial names in grade school
• Worked hard to address the economic gap between whites and blacks
• Questions arose about whether he was really a natural-born citizen who was eligible to be President of the U.S.
• Strong supporter of the Civil Rights Movement
• Staunch advocate for volunteerism and public service
• Spoke out against extremists on the right and on the left
• Revived the auto industry by bringing together management and workers behind a shared mission with shared purpose, shared pain, shared success and shared rewards.

This guy might sound like Barack Obama, but he is really George Romney -- Mitt Romney’s father.

George Romney was actually born in Chihuahua, Mexico.

To most of us, the phrase “natural-born citizen” sounds clear.  You must have been born in the U.S. to be eligible. 

Here’s the actual wording:

No person except a natural born Citizen, or a Citizen of the United States, at the time of the Adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the Office of President; neither shall any Person be eligible to that Office who shall not have attained to the Age of thirty-five Years, and been fourteen Years a Resident within the United States.

Obviously the first several presidents were born as British subjects in British America.

The Constitution does not define the phrase natural-born citizen, and various opinions have been offered over time regarding its precise meaning.  

The Supreme Court has never directly addressed the question of a specific presidential or vice-presidential candidate's eligibility as a natural-born citizen.

The Congressional Research Service has stated that the weight of scholarly legal and historical opinion indicates that the term means one who is entitled under the Constitution or laws of the United States to U.S. citizenship “at birth” or “by birth,” including any child born "in" the United States (other than to foreign diplomats serving their country), the children of United States citizens born abroad, and those born abroad of one citizen parent who has met U.S. residency requirements.

More than two dozen constitutional amendments have been introduced in Congress to relax the restriction, notably one designed to allow Henry Kissinger and another to allow Arnold Schwarzenegger to be eligible.

Barry Goldwater’s eligibility to run was questioned (born in Arizona before it was a state) as was John McCain’s (born in the Panama Canal Zone).

But no candidate’s eligibility has been challenged with the intensity and virulence directed toward Barack Obama.  The “birthers” still continue to insist that Barack Obama is not eligible to be president (despite the overwhelming proof he was born in Hawaii).

Who publicly and loudly challenged Barack Obama’s eligibility to serve as President of the United States?  The King of the Birthers, Donald Trump.

Who just endorsed Mitt Romney ahead of the Nevada primary caucus?  Donald Trump.  No mention was made of George Romney being born in Mexico.

Irony, thy name is politics.

 

It's An Elephant!

Sistas and mistas! You asked for it and PEACEsista delivers --

some sass about the one of her adventures with nowayasista in Tanzania!

Thank you, PEACEsista! (She also took the above photo.)

I fell in love with Africa, more specifically with Tanzania. The sights, sounds, smells, kindness and generosity of her people all captured my heart. The National Parks and Serengeti plains are true wonders of the world ... my world at least.

Forced to choose a highlight, for me, it would have to be traveling through the middle of the Great Migration, where 1.5 million wildebeest migrate 500 to 1,000 miles each year in search of water and green grass. With the wildebeest are innumerable zebra and gazelles. Animals as far as the eye can see to the north and south. It gave us an inkling of what was destroyed in North America by decimating the wild Buffalo herds and carving-up and fencing her prairies. It was magical to be in the middle of such a flow of life.

Second best, waking a sunrise to a giraffe right outside our tent munching on the top of an acacia tree. It was maybe ten feet from the open windows of our tent. I turned off the flash and got some photos of this. Upon waking to the sound of a large animal beside the tent (and without our glasses on) noway said, "Shit! It's an elephant!" This became a favorite line of the trip.

Third, waking during the night to the sound of lions roaring nearby or at sunrise, surrounded by the amazing sounds of singing and whistling birds. Best alarm clock ever!

Words will never do justice to Tanzania, or as is often the case, one picture (like the one in this post) will equal 1,000 of them.