This Is Not Snow:

Click on the picture and look at the big version.

This is tiny balls of solid ice.

They are falling now outside my apartment. They bounce when they hit the ground.

(What do you call this? Is this sleet? Miniature hail? Any lurking meteorologists out there to enlighten me?)

The parking lot to my apartment was flooded with about an inch of water this morning from heavy rain. It now looks like a skating rink. Covered in tiny ball bearings made out of ice.

My husband is still at work.

*sigh*



******************

Edited to add: my husband is home and not dead. The car is also fine. Because I was not riding in it, obviously.

Meme-alicious

Eeep! I've been tagged, by Dana from Mamalogues, to write a post about five things people don't know about me. Hmm. But which people? Blog people? Real Life Friend people? Family people? Professional Contact people? I suddenly feel like no matter what I post, someone is going to comment and say, "But I KNEW that about you, Jaelithe. That's totally lame. Where's the good stuff?"

(Does the fact that I am having such a difficult time coming up with oddities and secrets mean that I live an utterly banal, unmysterious life?

Or does it mean that I am even more secretive about the few certain secrets I do keep than most other people?

Hmmm . . .)

Five things (some) people (probably) don't know about me:

1.) I attended a very swanky, expensive private school from sixth through twelfth grade. In fact, I attended the most expensive private school in town.

On scholarship.

The first day I walked into that school, I wanted to kiss the polished marble foyer floor. The library was the size of my previous school's cafeteria (which, incidentally, had a been a roach-ridden, poorly lit, unfinished basement). For the first several weeks of classes, I fully expected a choir of glowing angels to descend at any moment.

That is, of course, until the other girls in my class started calling me Bag Lady for wearing second-hand clothes.

By my freshman year in high school I figured out that if I wore black all the time people would think I was just being artsy and moody and wouldn't notice that I didn't have a walk-in closet at home filled with three months' worth of outfits from the Gap, Abercrombie and J. Crew. This trick did indeed work wonders for my social life, though I must say I rather tired of my high school photography teacher calling me "Johnny Cash."

2.) In my life thus far, I have been in six car accidents in which the car I was a passenger in was totaled. I was not driving in any of these instances; the accidents happened with several different drivers, and each time it was not the fault of the driver I was riding with.

The first time, I was riding with my father and we were hit from behind by a taxi in the middle of a downpour. The second time, I was riding with my mother and we were hit from behind by a teenager driving a new sports car coming down the highway off ramp. The third time, I was riding with my father and a man driving in the oncoming traffic lane had a heart attack and died, and his SUV swerved into my father's car and smashed it into a guard rail. The fourth time, I was riding with several high school friends of mine coming home from visiting a haunted house for Halloween, and we were hit at an intersection by a speeding drunk driver. The fifth time, I was coming back from the grocery store with a college friend of mine and we were hit by an old lady who ran a stoplight. The sixth time, my husband had just picked me up from work; we were stopped at a red light coming out of a parking lot and a college-age guy in an SUV rammed us at 40 mph from behind; he was speeding and claimed he didn't see the stoplight or the cars stopped in front of him because he was talking on his cell phone.

I've been a passenger in three other minor accidents where the car was not totaled.

And once a car actually flipped and flew through the air OVER a car I was riding in on the highway, but the car I was riding in was not hit.

(Oh, and I'm not sure this one counts, but my mother was in a car accident when she was seven months pregnant with me.)

3.) I am terrified of driving. (Note that I can drive, but it terrifies me.)

4.) I once quit a job I needed and liked, loudly, in front of about seventy-five co-workers, after a self-important manager practically everyone secretly hated falsely, publicly (and rudely) accused me of lying. My co-workers actually cheered for me as I walked out. It was one of the best moments of my life.

I have quit two other jobs based solely (or, okay, mostly) on moral principle. One, because of religious discrimation against a co-worker, and another, because my boss was embezzling from the (non-profit) company.

5.) I can't stand a certain sound that is made by certain types of rough surfaces scratching on cloth. It makes me want to rip my own teeth out. It's like fingernails on a blackboard to me. Only actually, I'd prefer to listen to fingernails on a blackboard. However when I hear someone making this sound, by, say, scuffing their booted feet on a carpet, I generally clench my fists and do not say anything, because I want people to like me and not think of me as that insane woman who yells at people for scuffing their feet.

And yes, this does give me a special level of understanding when it comes to my son's reaction to the sound of my blender . . .

********************************

Edited to add: Woah, did I forget to tag someone? How lame. It was midnight when I posted this, though. I tag Raquita, only because she hasn't posted in a few weeks and I want to hear from her again (only if you have time, though, lady), and Stephanie, because, well, I get a feeling she probably has some interesting answers for this one . . .

This Just In: Peace Termed Offensive, Divisive

Um, I don't even know what to say about this.

Is a ban on "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" next?

Hark! The herald angels sing
Glory to the new born King
Peace on earth and mercy mild
God and sinners reconciled
Joyful all ye nations rise
Join the triumph of the skies
With angelic host proclaim
Christ is born in Bethlehem
Hark! The herald angels sing
Glory to the new born King
To the new born King

Wait-- "Let There Be Peace on Earth"-- that one by Sy Miller? That's on a bunch of Christmas albums, and it's EVEN WORSE:

Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me,
Let there be peace on earth, the peace that was meant to be.
With God as our Father, brothers all are we,
Let me walk with my brother, in perfect harmony.

Let peace begin with me, let this be the moment now,
With every step I take, let this be my solemn vow,
To take each moment and live each moment in peace eternally.
Let there be PEACE ON EARTH, and let it begin with me!

What about "Silent Night"-- doesn't that one have that word in it, too? "Sleep in heavenly--" GAH!

That's it-- THAT'S IT! We have to ban Christmas music altogether, people. We're at war, after all, and that means we can't have any mention of, well, of, that, that word that begins with the letter P, okay? Because it offends people. It divides people.

In fact, I heard from this that every time someone says that word out loud, Baby Jesus cries. For real.

Maybe we should just have it removed from the dictionary.

Let the Hate Mail Commence at 10:30 P.M. EST

***Shameless self-promotion to follow***

Tonight I will be joining Kristen from Motherhood Uncensored, The Mom Trap, Cool Mom Picks, etcetera, on her BlogTalkRadio show.

So, listen already. The show begins at 10:00 p.m. EST / 9:00 p.m. CST, with the debate I'm participating in to begin at 10:30 p.m. EST / 9:30 p.m. CST.

Bobita and I will be debating infant circumcision.

*DUCKS*

Goodness Gracious

Where have I been?

Well, I know I've used this excuse before, but it's still happening: I've been trying to buy a house for the first time. We had one offer accepted, only to have it fall through due to what I can only describe as seller insanity (more on that later, when I have time for a good three-page post. Heh). Now we're working on another offer.

No one mentioned to me by the way (and I'm glaring at YOU, everyone) that this house-buying thing was a full-time job. My apartment is starting to look decent to me, and that's scary.

I've also been working on a work project that is, of course, currently deciding to take 1/3 again as much time as my client originally projected it would. As all projects invariably do. So I'm not sure why I even feel the need to mention that it's taking more time than I thought it would. But with that on top of our recent adventures in real estate-- forget you people-- I feel like my son is shortly going to forget my name. Aren't I, um, a stay-at-home mom? I thought I was . . .

Anyway, my birthday came over the weekend, and I turned 25 again.

(I have decided, as of this year forth, that I shall turn 25 every year until I am 60. All right with you folks?

What?

You say 26 is not old and I should shut the hell up? You say I'm an addle-pated uppity whippersnapper who is too big for her britches? La la la I can't hear you.)

On my birthday, no presents were lost. We weren't kicked out of any restaurants. And I didn't get food poisoning. So, all in all, I'd have to say, this was a huge improvement over last year!

However, the most momentous event that happened on my birthday was that my mother called me.

My mother called me on my birthday, for the first time in seven years.

The evening before my birthday, being an evil daughter, and a connoisseur of the sarcastic tone, I had formulated a wicked plan to call my mother late in the evening on my birthday. After waiting all day for her not to call me, I would call her myself, and, the moment my mother picked up the receiver, without even giving her the opportunity to say so much as "Hello," I would say,

"Mother, I am calling you to give you the opportunity to wish me a Happy Birthday."

Don't you see? It was perfect. The righteous irony would drip from my voice. The weight of seven years of daughterly disappointment, elegantly compressed into a single sentence, would barrel through the telephone line in a hundredth of a second, and, upon reaching the receiver on the other end, the smooth cover of seemingly polite words would uncoil in an instant to unleash a flattening blast of mother-guilt. Like a molotov cocktail, wrapped in silk.

It would be, in fact, exactly the type of brilliantly executed, impossible-to-dodge guilt-trip my mother herself is famous for.

But then, she called me.

Boy, that really knocked the wind out of the sails of my revenge ship.

In fact, it made me feel kind of guilty for plotting to guilt-bomb her . . .

Ah, touche, Mom. Touche.

Empathy

When I came home from giving a work presentation on Thursday, I found my son playing outside with his babysitter. He wasn't playing ball. He wasn't riding his new tricycle.

He was trying to put the fallen leaves back on the trees.

"I fix the trees, Mommy," he said, in a very serious tone. "The leaves fall down. All the leaves are down on the ground. I fix them."

How long will this sweetness last? How long can it last, in this world, in a boy?

It's times like these I want to wrap him in an impenetrable armor of love, freeze him in love, preserved, in his untarnished innocence, like a butterfly in amber.

But I can't. And I shouldn't try.

(And I can't.)

But I can write about it.

No More Mrs. Nice Lefty

Okay, remember my last post? The one where I was being all democratic and non-partisan, giving you links to local board of elections sites with information about the candidates and issues involved in today's election, encouraging you all to vote no matter your affiliation?

Yeah, see, here's the thing about true liberals (and note that I didn't say Democrat-- I said liberal), the thing that makes it so hard for us to "win": We value other people's opinions. We appreciate diversity. We believe in the power of democracy. We want everyone to have an opportunity to have their voices heard.

Embracing a diversity of opinion and promoting everyone's right to participate in their own government are core liberal values.

That's one reason why, if you're a liberal, underhanded, illegal tactics like this are gonna piss you off.

But you know what? I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that I believe most of my conservative friends should be pissed off by this too.

Because I know many true conservatives out there also believe in honesty, and fair elections.

So I ask you, my readers, all of you, for the sake of democracy, or, if you won't stand for democracy, dammit, then in the name of upstanding Americans' univerally acknowledged loathing of having their dinners interrupted by telemarketers, spread the word on this news today. Let your friends who have yet to vote know that the Republican party has been conducting a deceptive, illegal telemarketing smear campaign against Democratic candidates in a last-ditch attempt to make voters angry at the Democratic party, calling voters incessantly and attempting to pretend that the annoying robocalls naming Democratic candidates have been paid for by the Democratic candidates themselves, when in fact the entire enterprise has been funded by the Republicans.

And then, after you vote today, go home, and do something nice for a neighbor who disagrees with your political views. And then think about what we all can do to overhaul this ridiculously corrupt two-party system. And leave your suggestions here, because I want to hear them. I am so sick, sick, sick of deceitful politicians on both sides of the aisle. This is supposed to be our government-- the people's government. I want to take it back.

Of the People, by the People, for the People

My fellow Missourians,


Please drag your tuchuses out of your home or office long enough to vote tomorrow.


Don't know anything about the candidates?


Senate Race:

Incumbent Senator Jim Talent, Republican
Challenger Claire McCaskill, Democrat
Challenger Frank Gilmour, Libertarian
Challenger Lydia Lewis, Green Party


List of candidates for all other Missouri races.


Now you do.


Don't know anything about the issues?

Missouri 2006 Ballot Measures

Now you do.


Don't know where your polling place is?

St. Louis County Board of Elections Polling Place Finder
St. Louis City Polling Place Finder
State of Missouri Polling Place Finder

Now you do.


Got kids? A job? A ton of stuff to do tomorrow? Hate standing in line?

So do I.

Suck it up. Vote anyway.


Vote tomorrow, or I hereby revoke your license to complain about the government until you vote in another election :P

A Couple Marbles Short

From checking out my referral sources on Sitemeter (for the first time ever, I might add), I just discovered that my blog is currently ranked NUMBER ONE on Google for the search term "A Couple Marbles Short."

I leave you, my dear readers, to interpret this information as you may . . .

In Which I Come Out to the Internet as a Comic Book Geek, Part II, with Pictures

What? You want to take my picture in this costume you made for me? You want me to stand still, look at the camera, and smile so you can get a good shot? Uh, right.



Did you forget who you dressed me up as already?




Wait a minute-- what is this contraption?



I guess even The Flash will sit still for a loud, brightly colored electronic toy.

In Which I Come Out to the Internet as a Comic Book Geek

I would so show you photos of my son dressed up as The Flash, in a Halloween costume I made for him, with my own hands. I would totally show you right here, right now.

But Blogger won't let me upload any photos today. I have tried several times at different points in the day. No dice.

You're on my list, Blogger. Do you hear me? ON MY LIST. Right underneath home inspectors who lose your email address and phone number and therefore do not send you the rather significant, immediate-attention-requiring results of radon tests on your potential new home, but instead, just casually give them to your real estate agent who, not realizing you the inspectors never sent you said results, doesn't tell you about them either for three whole days.

Anyway, if you want to see pics of the cutest Flash EVER, and find out what comic book character I dressed up as, you'll just have to click the link to my Flickr account in the sidebar for now.