Our First 100 Days - A Wrap Up - April 29, 2009

Note: To New Visitors: This has been a blog loosely documenting the first 100 days of my husband's layoff as software engineer. At the beginning of the blog, I was certain that I would be reporting that Mike had a new position long before President Obama's First 100 days were up. However, it’s been a very long time in waiting - with very few prospects.
I am happy to report, however, that today, in just an hour or two Mike will have a phone interview/tech test with the company he had been consulting with for 19 years before being laid off in 2004. It feels a bit like things are coming around full circle. Thanks to all who’ve followed
 this blog.


Parallels Between President Obama’s First 100 Days and Our Own!
Coincidental Experiences? I Don’t Think So.

• The President met with and befriended world leaders at the G20 summit.
  A couple from Quebec moved their motor home a few spaces away from us and they befriended us.

• Michelle Obama received praise for her stunning yellow outfit on Inauguration Day.
  One day not long ago, a friend in our RV park said I looked nice in the yellow blouse I just bought at Goodwill.
  
• The President watched the Super Bowl with four Senators and eleven House members.
  We watched the Super Bowl around a campfire with friends from both sides of the aisle as well, played "Shut the Box," and I won $2.25.
  
• The President has successfully filled 15 positions in his cabinet.
  I successfully managed to throw out a whole box of stale saltine crackers from our RV kitchen cabinet.
  
• Bo Obama made his entrance at the White House.
  Our dog Scooter made an entry about Bo in his Dog Blog
• President Obama has changed the image of America throughout the world.I’ve updated our company’s "Presidential Solitaire" educational card game with an image of President Obama so we can sell it throughout the world.
  
• President Obama has shown much restraint with difficulty in his first 100 days in office.
  I’ve shown much restraint these past 100 days in not acting on urges to strangle my laid-off husband as he works on his computer two feet from me in the RV, humming to Margaritaville in his headphones.
  
• People have been inviting President Obama to visit throughout the world.
  Recruiters with all kinds of accents have been calling with software jobs in their countries where software jobs for old guys are still available.
  
• The President has been diligently studying the economic situation.|
  We went panning for gold in the San Gabriel Mountains.
  
• Michelle Obama’s mother has moved into the White House.
  We’re about two months from having to move in with my daughter.
  
• Air Force One mistakenly flew over Manhattan and the President was angry.
  My husband rammed our Toyota into a yellow parking pole at Bank of America while depositing his unemployment check and I was angry!

But Seriously....

President Obama signed the American Recovery and Reinvestment (ARRA) Package and people weren’t sure about its impact. Last week, however, we opened up our Cobra statement that said the Recovery Package would help lessen our $929 monthly health insurance premiums until my husband found a new job. We, therefore, are sure about its impact. Thank you, Mr. President - again tears come - Thank you!

Michelle Obama and the Queen - I Cried

(a respite from the layoff news -Not to worry, I'll "break in" with any "late breaking developments" of job offers ;) meanwhile...back to our original programming of news that's really important- Michelle and the Queen - and I mean that sincerely.)

Day 73 - April 2, 2009

Whenever you cry at a picture that seemingly has nothing to do with your own life, you should naturally ask yourself, "Why?". And so I did, and it didn't take me long to find the answer. The answer is that this picture obviously does not have nothing to do with our lives. It has everything to do with them.

We live by symbols and metaphors. This picture is symbolic on so many levels that its appeal possesses the quality of universality. Each of us looks at this picture with reference to our own individual experiences. Yet as we all look at it, it evokes an emotion that is common to us as a whole.

This picture is about power, privilege, courage, youth, old age, the US and the UK, and the dawning of a new day that is causing us all to rise to our higher selves.

Of all the symbols one can pull out of this picture ...



contrasts between the established order versus the new order, of wealth bestowed versus wealth earned, of age versus youth - the symbols of rising and the symbol of courage touch me the most.

I’ve often identified with Maya Angelo’s poem, “And Still I Rise,” even though I am not black:

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

My father was a factory worker, and my mother worked in the grocery store across the street from our apartment in Milwaukee. Although my family never believed college was important “for a girl,” I put myself through all four years and obtained my degree and graduate credits afterward. However, the psychological identification with our family's class - our station in life - perhaps has kept me back, or maybe it's been my own laziness. Whatever the cause, I have limited myself in my own rising.

But in this picture, I identified with Michelle Obama. I identified with the rising. I think that’s why I cried when I saw it. The picture spoke to me and inspired me to believe that while I haven’t achieved what I might have up to now, in spite of the wrinkles on my face, in spite of the money not in our pockets, there is still the hope of rising.

Behind the story of this picture is also a symbol of courage as well. Ironically, the Queen is the first to be courageous here. It was as if Michelle Obama was the Princess Di that the Queen had not dared to embrace years ago. She reached out to the First Lady. And even more courageous, of course, is Michelle Obama! It is customary not to touch the Queen. The First Lady was fully aware of that protocol, I’m sure. But in the moment of truth, Michelle Obama trusted her instinct over protocol. She trusted her own understanding of the human condition over tradition. When the Queen reached out to the First Lady, she responded, unafraid. Ralph Waldo Emerson said it well, “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines.” The Obama’s are no “little statesmen”. It requires courage to resist the foolish consistencies that have permeated our world for too long – the consistent belief that war is the way to peace, the consistent belief that unfettered wealth benefits the masses, the consistent belief that one nation or people is superior to another, the consistent belief that “the poor we will always have with us,” - the consistent belief that the world is as it is. This is a new era, this is a new picture that has been taken, and a new rising that we are observing. Like seeing the ocean for the first time, the beauty and power of that scene touches us - all the way to tears.

Trying to Beat the First 100 Day Layoff Deadline

Day 72 - April 1, 2009

In my heart of hearts, I know that when I started this blog, I subconsciously believed my husband would find a position before President Obama's First 100 Days were up. As Day 72 dawns, I've made "Day 100" as an arbitrary goal to beat, i.e., Mike will find a job before that fabricated "deadline" is up.
Still no word from the company with the 3 month software engineering assignment for my husband. That could be a good thing and he may receive a call today. Do we sound pitiful? No, really, that position is probably still open. They wanted the white knight software person (that's what I call independent contractors) to start on April 15th because they need to get ready for the software coding they are requiring. Maybe today. Being laid off is like existing in the 50's when girls could not call boys for a date - you're just waitin' by the phone.
Unfortunately, the possibility of the other position that was available for my husband in San Diego is closed. The company went with

another person. Of course, when that happens, the question "why" rears its ugly head. It's bad enough that it plagues the mind of the person on the receiving end of the news, but when it pops into a wife's head, she has to work doubly hard to eradicate it from her own mind and from her husband's mind. The whysare useful only when you can do something about them. Was my husband turned down because of his age? Because his answers weren't fast enough on the comprehensive phone interview? Is it because he has too much experience hence, the view that his salary request would be too high? At this point there is nothing to do about a "yes" answer to any of the above questions.

There's much more to say today - a fascinating program on Amy Goodman's Democracy Now yesterday that I want to post - an explanation of why I hesitate a bit to find a "real job" at this point - and some of the remarkable, clever ways our neighbors have been supportive. Right now, I have to find the listing I saw on Craigslist (where my husband never looks) for a software position nearby our home. Wouldn't it be amazing if, out of all the professional job sites, a listing on craigslist.com would prove fruitful?

Adios for now, dear readers.

Waiting for the Call

Day 71 - March 31, 2009

8:37 - Pacific Coast time - No call from the 3 month software position as of this hour, but the phrase "no news is good news" is ringing through my brain. Isn't it amazing how, during times of waiting or surviving a broken heart, or just plain going through "stuff," it's the words in the cliched phrases that buoy us up. Here's to the writers of all those quotes. One of my favorites is a quote from Neitzche, "He who has a why to his existence can bear with almost any how." That one is for real tragedy, not just the kind of glitch Mike and I are experiencing with a layoff. The other phrase is one I may have mentioned in a previous blog, "The place you are seeking is also seeking you." (Substitute any noun in place of "place" and there you go with a nice little buoying up quote). The one quote that is hilarious to me, but I hope not relevant during this time is one I picked up from despair.com, "Maybe the sole purpose of your life is to serve as a warning to others." On that note, I'll close and hopefully be writing again today while we're toasting to the good fortune of Mike's new assignment.

Type rest of the post here

Stimulus Might Be Working - "Things are Lookin' Up"

Day 59 - Day 70 - March 30, 2009

Within the past week, my husband and I noticed a distinct difference in the number of recruiter calls and interviewing opportunities for him compared to the previous weeks of his layoff as software engineer. So as Pete Wiggins, the little boy actor in the Kaiser Permanente commercial says, "Things are lookin up." Since 2003, when my husband was initially laid off from Cap Gemini America in Minneapolis after nineteen years of service with them, he has been an independent contractor. Independent contracting has resulted in amazing adventures for us throughout the United States. Since 2004,

we have lived in Greenville, SC; Herndon, VA; Pittsburgh, PA; Corona, CA; Louisville, KY; and Newport Beach, CA. (We want to stay in sunny, crazy California because our grown children are relatively close by).

Let me explain the life of a independent contracting software engineer: Assignments can be with large corporations or small companies and generally last for an average of six months to a year. Before the contract with one company is over, my husband puts his resume up with Monster or Dice or other job boards on the web. Since 2004, as soon as his resume went up, the calls would come in from all over the United States. One company would need a Visual Basic programmer for 6 months in Jackson, Mississippi, another might need a .net or asp programmer for a year in Minneapolis, and so on.

Mike's last job, however, was not an independent contracting job. He decided to take a full-time position last year with a company in Irvine to have "more job security." Uh, huh. He was the last hired in that company and therefore among the first several who were let go.

Of course he knew there would be diminished number of calls from recruiters in this economic recession, but neither he nor I expected what has been transpiring - an almost total dearth of calls.

However, last week was different. (Perhaps this news is like the harbinger of spring as my old college professor used to say, and it is a signal that the economy is inching it's way back up.) Mike had a phone interview with a company in San Diego and a live interview right up the road from where we stay in our RV. The latter would be a position for three months, but it would be very positive since the pay would be the same as Mike is used to as an independent contractor, since we wouldn't have to relocate, and since the length of time seems appropriate for things to really start buzzing again and for a longer assignment to rear it's lovely head.

As I write, I keep hoping for the phone to ring with positive news. As "The Secret" philosophy suggests with it's emphasis on the laws of attraction, perhaps I can draw in good fortune with my positive thoughts. So I'll close right now and say, "It will be great to write the next blog with news of Mike's new three month assignment!"

Ten Signs That You Might Be At The End of Your Lay-off Rope

Day 58, March 18, 2009

You might be at the end of your lay-off rope if:
Friends start bringing over fruit.

You might be at the end of your lay-off rope if:
Your husband not only sells the lawn mower you keep in storage, but your favorite hoe along with it!

You might be at the end of your lay-off rope if:
You start mixing coffee grounds and olive oil to dye your gray hair.


You might be at the end of your lay-off rope if:
You stop going out to lunch at McDonalds to save money.

You might be at the end of your lay-off rope if:
People now ask, “How are you?” with the emphasis on ARE

You might be at the end of your lay-off rope if:
You stuff your pockets with extra ketchup packets from the fast food places you rarely go to anymore.

You might be at the end of your lay-off rope if:
Your husband, tense after depositing his unemployment check in the ATM, rams into the yellow pole next to the parking spot and dents the fender of your Toyota that already has 250,000 miles on it!

You might be at the end of your lay-off rope if:
You start facing multiple ceramic roosters south in your RV with the Feng-shui hope that they will draw in prosperity.

You might be at the end of your lay-off rope if:
You sneak cuttings from landscaping in shopping malls to start your Spring planting.

You might be at the end of your lay-off rope if:
Even your dog, feeling the tension in the house, is getting gray hair!

In Line For President Obama in the OC

Day 57 (again): Blog course correction - I'm writing this entry after President Obama's appearance on the Jay Leno show on March 19. Mr. Leno asked if this was President Obama's 59th day in office to which the President replied that it was. I had been counting days in office from the day AFTER the Inauguration. Apparently the official count of the 100 days begins on Inauguration Day itself, so we need to adjust one day forward. Therefore, I'm identifying this entry which refers to March 17th, as day 57. Here's hoping my total blog fan base (of approximately one person) can adjust.


Day 57 - March 17, 2009
Having courageously campaigned for Barack Obama in the O.C. (one of the most Republican counties in the entire nation), my husband and I were extremely excited to attempt to be part of the town hall meeting that was to take place at the Orange County Fairgrounds on Wednesday, March 18th at 4:00 pm. We had heard that people were already getting in line on



Monday night, the 16th and tenting out so they'd be sure to snag the tickets that would be offered at 9 am on Tuesday the 17th for the appearance on Wednesday the 18th! We thought that staying overnight was probably not necessary. Oops!

We arrived at the fairgrounds before 8 am on Wednesday, March 17, hoping against hope that it wouldn't be too late to still get tickets. The accompanying pictures don't do justice in portraying the actual number of

people who were in line by the time we got there, but it was an impressive sight. It was a respectful line of quiet and soft-spoken people. At first I didn't want to talk to anyone. To be honest, I was embarrassed. My husband having gone ahead to find a place for us in line, opened up the folding chair he had dragged along. As I walked toward him after retrieving out forgotten camera in the car, he almost shouted to me from what seemed like 25 yards away, "Here, Hon, come sit on the chair." Now, I'm what you might call an introverted extrovert or an extroverted introvert (if you can capture a picture of that combination), and thus, I wanted to melt into the asphalt that surrounded us. I just nodded and fell in line behind him in silence.

But my embarrassment wasn't the only reason I didn't want to talk while waiting in that line. I was guessing that 99% of the people waiting that day had most likely, like my husband and myself, enthusiastically supported the election of Barack Obama. It struck me, however, that in spite of the thread of unity that must be woven through this line of strangers, we each had every individual reasons for our support of the President. I wasn't sure I wanted this historic moment to be shattered by hearing others' reasons for being there; nor did I want to risk shattering their moment by my quirky left of left views on politics. So although my husband was striking up a conversation with two gentlemen ahead of us, I didn't join in. Eventually, as the line moved forward so did I, and like little Bunny Foo Foo hopping through the forest, I changed my attitude, warmed up, and started talking. And I'm glad I did. One person we chatted with was a young French man who owns several restaurants in Orange County. The other gentleman was a software engineer like my husband. I mentioned that Mike was laid off, and as usually happens these days, I felt embarrassed to have done so. We all gently shifted the conversation and continued our mutual concern of whether or not there'd be tickets for us.

As it drew closer to 9 am, the time that the tickets would be released, a representative from the fairgrounds came by and informed us that from the count, it seemed that the people as far back as we were in line, would be out of luck. A couple walking by at that point said, "Have faith. They'll do something to get us tickets." So we all stayed.

As it became more and more evident that we would not be included in the ticketed group, I was wishing I could leave the fairgrounds with at least somethingby which to remember this historic moment. If I had been brave enough, I would have quickly gone up and down the line, interviewing as many people as I could to have something interesting for my blog. As it was, I asked only the two gentlemen with whom we had already been chatting. I told them I was blogging our first 100 days of being laid-off paralleling President Obama's first 100 days and said I needed a quote from someone standing in line. I was glad I asked because each gentlemen offered a quote and each quote was poignant and meaningful. I didn't need to ask 100 people in line why they were there; the two quotes I received said it all. The software engineer told me he was there because had never seen a President "live" before and "President Obama is exciting because of his energy and his ability to inspire people." He mentioned feeling the same way about this President as he had about President Kennedy.

The young French man was thoughtfully silent after I initially asked the question. I surmised he was struggling to articulate his ideas in English as clearly as he could in French, so I suggested that he "just think of what you want to say in French and then translate it in English." He told me that was what he was doing and replied, "I'm here because...because I want to see that the earth is blue and not red. (Do you know what I mean? I nodded and he continued.) I want to see the earth as it is seen from space." I understood what he meant and the multiple meanings of the metaphor he had spontaneously created.

I dawned on me that I shouldn't have been afraid that day that my moment of history would be spoiled if I heard reasons different from my own for believing in President Obama. After I heard the words from the men standing in line with us, I realized, to paraphrase a quote I once heard, "It is the little things in life wherein we differ; in the big things, we are all at one." As we walked back to the parking lot with the others who wouldn't get tickets, past the people who were packing up their tents getting ready to receive their tickets, I felt the connection we all shared.

It's Hard Work Not Working

Day 33 to Day 57 - February 22 to March 16

It's hard work not working...and right now, accomplishing anything is about as slow as trying to push wet Levi's through an old fashioned wringer washer. I don't know why that is. I think it might be that a bit of depression has set in or else it's because the walls of the RV with a laid off husband inside are closing in. All I know is that this little cartoon character's face looks like I feel on the inside and probably how I look on the outside. (I think our neighbors are beginning to worry!)

But we're trying. We've been busy these past 24 days of not writing, and we did make a teensy bit of progress.


We spent one whole week preparing our taxes, and our Federal refund has already arrived. Yay! (That will get us through this month). The state of the state of California's refunds are gloomier. Refunds are being held until some unknown date - or maybe never. That's ok. We'll call that our contribution to economic recovery. But if things do change and Governor Swartzenegger with the legislature in Sacramento find a way to release the tax refund funds sometime soon, there won't be any crying here. At that point, I'll find a jubulent cartoon chartacter's picture and post it with my jubulent blog!

We have also spent these last three weeks trying to improve the online business we've had for 15 some years. We decided our small educational software company should produce some actual profit - novel idea. We're also trying to sell the unique deck of educational cards we create and have spent hours assembling them using TV trays in our RV. We have also tried to submit our online matching games to online hosting companies with the hope that they might want to purchase them as an "add on" to their site-building tools. We're waiting for a positive response from somewhere!

It's getting to be a bit "Gone With the Wind" around here as in some of our values are flying out the window. We have always had the policy of "no advertising" on our kids' pages, but after hearing my friend talk about the advertising on the pages her twin boys visit, and deciding we need to survive, we decided that we could offer products on our kids' pages that we deem appropriate. We haven't received any negative comments, so I'm hoping our new policy is acceptable to our customers.

In striving to improve our business, my husband suggested linking this blog to our company. However, I continue to want to remain annonymous in this venue. Annonimity gives a freedom of expression that I might not have if I weren't annonymous. We'll see. That idea might soon be "gone with the wind" as well.

Day 32 - Saturday, February 21, 2009 - How to Tell When the Economy Has Recovered

It will look like this:

Yorba Linda, California - a tree we came upon today hiking along the banks of the Santa Ana River. It apparently was one of the hundreds burned in the fires a few months ago.

new growth - recovery- miraculous

Day 31 - February 20, 2009 - Why Obama's Stimulus Package WILL Work

You might think that I'd be the last person to believe in the stimulus package that President Obama recently signed. My husband has been laid off for 35 days now. we live in an RV, our Cobra insurance will cost over $800 a month, and Bank of America, for some reason I can't comprehend, just lessened our available credit line by $5000. Yet, I am hopeful about the economy and I KNOW the stimulus package will work. How? Just look at the picture to the right. There is one distinguishing factor about President Obama that indicates that he just might be

among the ranks of creative geniuses who have shared the same distinguishing factor: President Obama, like Leonardo da Vinci, Isaac Newton, Benjamin Franklin, and Albert Einstein, is left-handed! And if you remember just a few years ago, we experienced one of the most prosperous periods in history. Accordingly, Forbes magazine announced that they took a look at the numbers, and 'for the money, among presidents since World War II,' the one who scored the highest was President Bill Clinton. Yep, you guessed it. President Clinton is also left-handed. So sit back, relax, and just expect prosperity.

Days 20 through 30 - February 9 through February 19, 2009 Busy, Busy, Busy

Too busy to keep up with blog - busy trying to make more sales with our little software business, busy gathering tax information so we can use the refund, busy getting our RV ready to move for our "week out" (our park is not meant for residency), busy seeing my daughter's stand-up in Huntington Beach competition and at the Comedy Store in LA, busy keeping up with friends' kindnesses to us! Busy not hearing of any new jobs, but most importantly, busy being hopeful.


Type rest of the post here

Day 19 - Sunday, February 8, 2009 The Great Depression of 1929 - What Not to Hand Down

Today is my Aunt Marion's birthday; she's 91 and she's amazing. (I call her a sequin person because she's so sparkly). I phoned Aunt Marion in Milwaukee today to wish her a "Happy Birthday" and she wanted to know how we were doing with the lay off. Aunt Marion was 11 years old at the beginning of the Great Depression of 1929. My mother was 12. By the time she was 16, my mother dropped out of high school because her parents didn't have enough money for her to buy a gym suit and she was too proud to go to school without one.


Aunt Marion is worried a bit about the economy and the fact that my husband is laid off during this time. She can remember the Great Depression and therefore can envision a deepening and lengthening of the economic recession. Because I was born after that time in history, such a picture is not easy for me to comprehend nor do I want it to be.

The emotional effect of the Great Depression, I feel, was a living, breathing presence in my family, and it's legacy has been passed down. My mother would tell me stories at bedtime about how she and Aunt Marion took a wagon "to the county" to get milk and flour. They lived in West Allis, Wisconsin, a part of West Milwaukee, right down the block from where Liberace and his brother George grew up. "Walter" Liberace and George went to the same school as my mother and my Aunt Marion. My mother remembers that Walter was very kind to her. He helped Aunt Marion and my mom with the wagon of groceries they brought home from the county. My mother was embarrassed they had to do this and in her adult life she never took anything that even hinted it might be charity. On the contrary, my mother, though never having more than just enough to get by, was a exceptionally generous person. When she left a tip at a restaurant, it was a big tip. When she gave a gift, it was something lovely. I remember one time we went to the Wisconsin State Fair and there was a little girl standing by one of the rides. She was blind. My mother walked over and gave her enough to ride all the rides she wanted that day.

That was the positive legacy of the Depression. It left my mother with a great understanding of how people can fall on hard times through no fault of their own. My mother's natural empathy for people was amplified through her experiences during the Depression and World War II.

But the Great Depression left another psychological and sociological effect on America - the effect of deprivation. There are several ways in which people respond to deprivation. One is to accept deprivation as a given, the other is to rail against it.

It's interesting that Liberace once stated: "Except for music, there wasn't much beauty in my childhood. He later recalled, "We lived in one of those featureless bungalows in a featureless neighborhood. I hated shabbiness. I'd walk 27 blocks and pay 15 cents to sit in a new, clean movie house when I could have walked five blocks and paid 5 cents to sit in an old, dirty one." www.1st100.com/part3/liberace.html Perhaps Liberace's excesses were somewhat of a reaction to the Great Depression - a kind of a Scarlet O'Hara "I'll-never-go-hungry-again" response. Perhaps he was railing against deprivation.

I'm wondering if my mother's response to the Great Depression, on the other hand, was one of resigned acceptance of the loss of control over one's financial fate - the acceptance of deprivation as a given in life. It's not that we were poor. It's just that we were never prosperous. There was money just enough for a vacation for two weeks up North in the summer and maybe a new car every so often. My parents never owned a house and my mother was never able to take the trip to Ireland she had dreamed about. But she was "content" as she put it. And that, to me, can be a danger. "What good is money?" she'd ask, "even the pigs won't eat it." I never understood what that was supposed to mean, but I think it was one of those cliques we try to live by like, "Money doesn't bring happiness."

To many this is an admirable trait, but it's one that keeps people in their class and never allows them to rise above it. It seems to me that the whole point of living is the rising. This planet is rich enough in resources, and humankind is creative enough to envision prosperity for all. During this time of economic revolution (for surely these times are ever as much revolutionary as the Industrial Revolution) we must be sure that rather than fall into acceptance of crisis as inevitable, we need to embrace a vision of a better life for all, a more equitable distribution of wealth and the knowledge that we do have the ability and perhaps the obligation to continue to rise. It's all about the rising.

Day 17 - Saturday, February 7, 2009 - Keep Your Chin Down, Mr. President

Dear Mr. President,

As a family experiencing layoff, it was encouraging to watch your weekly address which emphasized putting Americans back to work! You would think that the content of the video we watched online would have been so meaningful to us out here living in our RVs and wondering where we'll be two weeks from now that we wouldn't have even noticed seemingly insignificant things like body language. But we did. And since you're young enough to be my son, Mr. President, (notice I didn't say the proverbial "old enough to be your mother"...oops I guess I just did, didn't I?...no matter), I need to give you a little motherly suggestion regarding the body language of your address.









You know how every one always says, "Just keep your chin up?" I say to you, Mr. President, "Just keep your chin down." Try to look a little less like Leonard on "Big Bang Theory" and a little more like Chris Rock in "Head of State". And here's the reason:
You know that whole pre-election nonsense of elitism? I think I figured it out. It's the uplifted chin that mistakenly projects that image. I say "mistakenly" for this reason. It's my theory that the uplifted chin habit is one acquired by smarter than average kids like yourself around 7th grade. When above average intelligence starts appearing in a classmate at this age, teasing can begin. Now teasing itself can be responded to in varous ways - a physical response, ie, punching the other kid in the eye; a humorous response of laughing along with the other kids; or, as my theory goes, the development of "a stiff upper chin" as if to ward off the verbal taunting that's being flung in one's face. The teasers perceive the "teasee" as being arrogant which they translate in later life as elitism mainly because this student is, in fact, obviously above them in the intelligence department.

Now if you notice, President Bush had the opposite chin characteristic - he often tucked in his chin, ergo... well, we needn't go there anymore do we?

In between the lowered "ducking-for-cover chin" and the uplifted "fending-off-verbal assaults chin" is the perfectly placed chin position of Chris Rock in the "Head of State" addresses.

So my gentle suggestion, Mr. President, is to "keep that chin down" because we do want the stimulus package to pass. And since my husband's getting tired of eating tuna casserole, to ensure passage of the package, could you manage to throw in a little smile once and a while as well?

Day 17 - Friday, February 6, 2009 - Oprah, Can You Hear Me?

I promise, I have not become delusional. I may be wondering around in Pollyanna-land at the moment, but I figure it's better than falling into the abyss of lay-off despondency. So I did it just as I said I would in my previous blog - I wrote to Oprah's people - not to tell my story or comment on a program, but to try to pitch our online matching game to her web designers. I had always

had the idea sloshing around in my brain that the online games my husband and I create would be a smashing success on the perfect website, but I had never followed through with the idea. There's nothing like not knowing where you're going to be living next month to motivate you to push forward and plant any seed in your pocket hoping this might be the one that grows into a fruitful tomato plant or (in this case) maybe just a little patch of lettuce that will get you by.

We designed the looks of our game to match the feel of Oprah's site and reflect the same concept of some of the games already on there. Now it's just a matter of waiting for Oprah's people to call my people, i.e. me!

Day 16 - Thursday, February 5, 2009 - Lay Off Triggers MacGruber Effect

As I sat at my computer in our RV, my husband at his computer, I suddenly could see myself as the terrified sidekick of SNL's MacGrubber spoofs.

"MacGrubber, we have 10 seconds (translated - 10 days before we're insolvent). Here use the tax forms, let's fill them out right away. We'll get a refund."

"Now, now, Katy,

don't panic just hand me a pencil while I jot down this number of a software position in Alaska." His voice is calm and reassuring.

"But MacGrubber, we only have 5 seconds now. Can you use this picture of the collectibles we picked up at Goodwill to sell on ebay? Or how about this .jpg of our lawn mower that we could post on craigslist.com?"

"Don't be silly, Katy. Just hand me a diet coke and those ping pong paddles. (I'll just patch them to create a nice relaxing break for us and..."

Booom!!!!!!!!!!!

Day 15 - Wednesday, February 4, 2009 - A Humbler Trump

So I watched Larry King tonight and it's the first time I've ever liked Donald Trump. I remember my trip to New York on the Thanksgiving after 9/11. It was at the end of the weekend that I saw a billboard while I road the bus back to the Newark airport. It read: "Be Strong, Be Brave, Be American" - Trump

I had been in New York the Saturday before 9/11 for the wedding of my daughter's former college roommate. On the actual day of the tragedy, I worried that my daughter might have gone down to Wall Street that morning. And on the Thanksgiving weekend after 9/11, heading back to Minneapolis, I saw the larger-than-life Trump "advertisement".


To others, it might have seemed an admirable thing to do - to put up a billboard like that. To me, it was arrogant, patronizing, and borderline jingoistic. I really hadn't known much about Donald Trump before seeing the gigantic sign, but getting more familiar with him a few years later on "The Apprentice," didn't really increase my opinion of him. The subsequent skits on Saturday Night Live let me warm up to Trump a bit more and see a different side of the man, but I was still not a fan. But tonight on Larry King, I actually liked Donald Trump! There's nothing like a Depression to tone someone down a few notches. He was reasonable and rationale with no affectation. He talked about Republicans' need to give the Democratically supported stimulus package a try. He didn't equivocate on his feelings of the importance of promoting entrepreneurship, but admitted the situation was dire and called for giving President Obama's proposals a try. He talked about global impact. His tone was far different than the billboard I saw 8 years ago. Sometimes, it seems, the worst of times can bring out the best in a billionaire.

Day 14 - Tuesday, February 3, 2009 - This Is The House That Jack Built

Remember "This is the House that Jack Built"? This is the mouse that lived in the house that Jack built. This is the cat who ate the mouse that lived in the house that Jack built and on and on. Well, last night I got sick - the kind of sick you don't want to describe. So in my "laid off" state of mind, I have figured out that the full night of discomfort and subsequent full next day of the same, is all Jack's fault - whomever Jack represents. So here's how I figure it:

We bought bad fish on sale because Mike is laid off and we need to conserve our money. Our grocery store had to sell us day-old fish because business is weak. The grocery business is weak because the economy is weak. The economy has become weak, for the most part, because of housing industry failures (just to make this simple). The housing industry failed because of the type of loans that were being made. "Creative" loans were being made because people couldn't afford the prices the market was asking. People couldn't afford homes at the prices that were being asked because of the disparity of income to cost of living, i.e. their income was not large enough to buy the American dream. The reason the negative relationship of income to cost of living has occurred is because wealth, since the 80s, has been amassing, exponentially, at the top.

So to all of you holding on to all of that money, consciously taking obscene profits and not sharing even a portion of those profits, to you I say, thanks a lot, Jack, for the bad fish!

This is what is known as trickle-down economics.

Day 13, Monday, February 2, 2009 - Thank You, Jim Parsons

We continue to work - Mike searching the job boards while I try to figure out how to make our small business produce better. We received an order for two of the software games we create and the card game I had invented years ago. Every order is a big production. My computer isn't working well, so Mike copies the disks on his computer. I print the labels for the CD and print the packaging - nothing is already made up and on the shelf. But I'm thankful and amazed we're getting orders since we shut down all of our google ads - too expensive for now. I put our deck of playing cards

up on Amazon last month (it's a political history type game) and we get an order here and there. We have 250 decks that we could assemble, but the decks have to be updated and the printer would cost $400. We're going to take the risk though and do it.

There is still a job in Jackson, Mississippi that different recruiters call about. Mike's resume must not have been accepted because there are different recruiters calling for this position that he was already submitted for. It's a bit discouraging. There's news that the State of California might run out of unemployment funds. I want to talk about what we would do, but Mike doesn't. He wants to visualize the positive, meaning that we would be able to get a job here and stay where we are. He was very quiet in the car, and when I asked why he wasn't talking, he said he was trying to say positive sentences in his head about the job possibilities.

At least "The Big Bang Theory" was on tonight. The character of Dr. Sheldon Cooper played by Jim Parsons continues to delight and touch me. This evening's episode was particularly apropos. Penny, another character in an excellent cast, needs money and Sheldon simply hands it to her. The social dynamics of a friend lending money was spot on. There's a delicate balance that has to be maintained between the borrower's dignity and the lender's generosity. Creativity of how to help and/or anonymity in doing so can go a long was to preserve the balance.

Day 12 - Sunday, February 1, 2009 - Shut the box

It's a crabby day and I know why. I feel we can't relent on trying to figure out how to increase our income while Mike is laid off. Even if he would get a job tomorrow, we would still be two weeks behind in income. So I want to work on my idea of customizing the online game we've developed and send it to Oprah's people. I'm convinced if we make it good enough it will be embraced by her website and they'll either buy it or link to us. (My father always said that I lived in a dream world.)

Of course, it's Super Bowl Sunday and in the morning,


our RV neighbors invited us up to the 5000's where there's a party going on this afternoon. (Our lot is in the 4000's). I know Mike really wants to go, but I remind him of all we have to do, the least of which is going grocery shopping. When we come back from Ralph's, the game has already started. I look in his eyes and knows he needs to be with friends and get away from it all. I tell him I'll put away the groceries and that he should go without me. "Will you come later?" he asks. And in what must have sounded very martyr-like, I answer, "No, I'm going to stay and work." He leaves and I'm content to keep working on fixing up the content of our Java Applet and maybe starting on the taxes .

Twenty minutes later, there's a knock on our RV door. It's another neighbor who was at the party asking if I'd please come because he wants to introduce me to his girlfriend. She's a teacher, he tells me, so we'd have a lot in common. I'm touched that he came down to ask and I say I'll come, but I think I shouldn't. Finally, after putting away the groceries and starting up the computer, I turn on the TV and watch the Budweiser commercial - the one with Daisy the Clysdale who's taken to the circus to the dismay of her Clysdale squeeze. It's no fun to watch something as adorable as that all alone, so I pack up the shrimp plate that I got on sale at Ralph's for $2.50, hope it isn't contaminated with something at that price, and mix up some ketchup and horseradish for cocktail sauce and head over to the 5000's.

A whole bunch of people, many of whom I never met are gathered outside, watching the game on two TVs set up on a table in front of the hitch of the neighbor's 5th Wheel. I'm glad I came. It's a bit chilly, but wonderful. (I LOVE being in California and I really hope we don't have to move for the next job.) We play a dice game called "Shut the Box". I never played before, but I pay my quarter and start shooting the dice. I need a nine, so I think "nine" and I roll a nine. I need a "one" so I think "one" and I roll a one. One more roll and I think it done and shut the box and win $2.25. Mike seems so proud of me! Now all I have to do is visualize a job for Mike in Orange County - visualize my educational software and game company succeeding - visualize us able to buy a house some day and stay near our children - visualize world peace. If I can do it with dice, I can do it with life, doncha' think?

Day 11 - Saturday, January 31, 2009 - Humbled

Wish we didn't have to work all day today on the business - wish I had some nice shoes to wear to the movie tonight - wish we could buy some popcorn at the show. Then the movie started: "Slumdog Millionaire".

That's all she wrote.

Day 10 - Friday, January 30, 2009 - Like Mentos In Diet Coke

It's been 15 days since my husband has been laid off; our Toyota's catalytic converter needs fixing, (fancy that, with only 237,000 miles on the odometer!); and, as to be expected in this downturn, there are no recruiters calling - not even the young and the restless. So my attention has started to shift to our tiny educational software company and the possibility of actually increasing our sales - maybe even to $50 a week! We've been in business since 1992, selling software matching games in dribs and drabs. (Someone once said that often we tend to "stretch out our work to the time allotted.") Perhaps that has been what I've been doing with our company all these years - merely limping along in the time allotted.

I think it's time to "alot" the business no more time to succeed, we have to do it now! So today I think I've come up with an ingenius (at least semi-plausible) idea of how to make that happen.

It started with listening to Dr. Laura when we were driving to the post office to mail off our one sale of the week. While my politics is 180 degrees left of Dr. Laura's "hoo-ahh" army militaristic bent, I do admire her higher-ground approach to relationships. So in between reiterating her "proper care and feeding of husband" philosophy to Jane in New Jersey or somewhere, she reminded her audience to visit her web site. Well, there it was! A recycling of my old entrepreneurial idea that we can customize the games we design to match the content on websites. Dr. Laura needs our Java Applet on her site. I'd submit a prototype to Dr. Laura's people by Monday!

The afternoon wore on, however, and news that President Obama invited a bi-partisan group of legislators to watch Sunday's Super Bowl with him, switched my focus from Dr. Laura to President Obama's staunch supporter, Oprah. Oprah's website would be a much better match for our game - besides like Barack Obama, Oprah is a sister in handedness - the three of us, Barack, Oprah, and me - left-handers all! So after spending the rest of the day getting a feel for Oprah's site and trying to customize our game to match what Oprah's web people might think very useful, I was full of hope once again.

It's a funny thing about hope - it's like mentos dropped into a diet coke. It produces a surprising effects, maybe even as spectacular as the "dancing waters" in this youtube video. So here's to hope - and Oprah and me.

Day 9 - Thursday, January 29, 2009 - Jealous of Lilly Ledbetter

There's nothing like wondering where you'll be living next month to cause you to examine your life and wonder where it all went so terribly wrong. Enter Lilly Ledbetter. Obviously this woman did something very right in her life. Here she is in her chic, classic red wool suit, probably a size 8 or smaller maybe. (I wouldn't know, I haven't seen a size 8 in 40 years!). She's sporting a youthful blond hairdo that dramatically belies her age - which happens to be 70! (I don't believe it either, but I read it on the web.) Most importantly, she is standing behind President Barack Obama as he signs this first piece of legislation of his administration into law - the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act.

It's an important piece of legislation and, as a woman, how could I not be pleased? But when things aren't going well in your own life, the accomplishments of others you admire
slams your head straight up against the wall of your own inadequacy. Lilly Ledbetter helped established legislation that will affect our daughters and grand-daughters, and I can't even find the other picture I want to post on this blog to show you her Erin Brokovich look of triumph over struggle. Oiy!

On this same day, my husband got ready to interview with a firm that hires software engineer consultants in Orange County. While he ironed the pants to his interview suit, tears rolled down my checks wondering why I couldn't the courage of a Lilly Ledbetter - why I couldn't even have the courage to interview for the sign language interpreting job I applied for just yesterday. Lilly Ledbetter took on the giant Goodyear and went to the Supreme Court! I can't even face going back to the classroom again. (In my defense, however, the Supreme Court might be a little less scary than a classroom of eighth graders!)

After an half hour of self-analysis and spouse-analysis before driving my husband to the interview, I had answers - not solutions, just answers.

It all boils down to bravery - to tolerating the ambiguity of your rightousness - to not worry that you might be wrong or inadequate, but to forge ahead.

So what do you do if you weren't brave in life? What if you are the cause of your own failure? What if you know you won't ever have the capacity to be that brave? Well, then you have only one option - you have to resort to the dark side, as in dark humor, the kind you find at places on the web like despair.com - the kind that says, "Perhaps the sole purpose of my life is to serve as a warning to others."

Day 8 - Wednesday, January 28, 2009 - "Keeling" Over With the Joy of Affirmation

While President Obama was talking about the economy in the East Room in the White House, I was listening to "Day to Day" on NPR out here on the West Coast,getting ready for my day. There was a fascinating piece on scientist Charles David Keeling,who began research in the 1950s that would prove to be one of the most important pieces of evidence of climate change that we still use today. Keeling was obsessed with the effects of carbon dioxide. He developed a flask to gather air samples whenever he could and diligently recorded the findings

over years. During periods of measurement, he'd sometimes take samples of air throughout the night, every three hours, and filled notebooks with columns and columns of numbers. He had a sense that someday all of his measurements would be useful.

Ah, so there it was. I was just beginning to wonder over the past several days of keeping this blog if even doing so would be useful. Thanks to serendipity, I happened to catch a program about a man who wasn't sure why it was important for him to keep a record of a subject that fascinated him, but continued to do so without faltering. And so I continue this 100 day blog which now seems a lot easier than Keeling's task of measuring air on top of a volcano!

Job Update: A firm that does recruiting of software engineers and other tech people like Mike does full time placement right here in the OC. They saw Mike's resume on the web and voila', he has an interview with them tomorrow to see if he might fit any of the companies for whom they recruit. So, it's crawl into the back of the closet in the RV and try to find the interview suit. It might also be an appropriate time for Mike to buy a pair of shoes. His have had half-dollar holes in the soles for several weeks now. But hey, so did Senator Obama's shoes - the ones in the picture with his feet on the desk during the campaign.

I half-heartedly applied for an interpreter of the deaf position and received an email that the district would call tomorrow. It's been 8 years since I interpreted and even then ago my body was wearing out for the physicality of that job. There's nothing like a response to a job you'd really not prefer to take to make you work like crazy on the business you really want to make work! About ninety-nine new ideas for our business have suddenly started dancing around in the neuro-pathways of my brain, so look out world.

Day 7 - Tuesday, January 27, 2009 - "Close Encounters of the Worse Kind"

My husband and I are used to working together - we've been creating educational software since 1992 and selling it in catalogs and through our online store on the web. Normally, I work on the business during the day, and Mike and I work together when he comes home from his day job in the evening. When we work together in our RV for a few hours in the evening, our chairs are about 3 ft. from each other. When we work together in RV all day together when Mike is laid off, the physical measurement of 3 ft. becomes the psychological measurement of 3 inches! ( Wanna know what that's like? Watch this episode in "Mad About You" with Carol Barnett and Caroll O'Conner". and you'll know what I mean. (If you click on the link, let the video do it's buffering one time thought without sound and then play the video).

So only one week after the inauguration, my pledge to be more Michelle Obama-like has deteriorated into more of a Tony Soprano personality,

stomping around the RV, exclaiming, "I've gotta get frickin' out of here. I've gotta get frickin' out of here!"

I figured out what the problem was though. The problem was silence, yes silence - my husband's absolute hour-by-hour, side-by-side-in-RV silence. Most of the time when I work alone, I have NPR on in the background when I don't have to concentrate; my husband is fine with that or with some music coming from iTunes on my computer. But sound coming into our one main room was not the problem I was having. It was the utter lack of sound coming out of my husband that bothered me. Don't get me wrong, I admire my husband's amazing capacity to sit monk-like and work for hours on end without talking. I, on the other hand, actually like to know every once and a while that the person I'm working next to is still alive and breathing.

It was different when my husband was in between consulting jobs before. Then, there would be recruiters would be calling every few hours and I would hear his his voice and even catch the drift of the job that was open. Now, there are no calls. (If there is one recruiter a day, we're lucky.) So there is silence, hours and hours of silence - the close encounter (or maybe un-encounter) of the worse kind.

I figured out a plan though. My husband agreed that in between his silent searches on the web, he'll every once in a while turn away from the computer toward me and say something like, "Oh, looks like they're hiring in Houston." Then a while later he can say, "Hey, there's something right here in Irvine." I told him he could even make stuff up, just so I don't go off the deep end - in silence.

I was put to shame for my behavior in the evening when we watched "Rescue Dawn," on a dvd that our neighbor lent us. Now there was a guy that maintained a positive attitude through adversity. And this was based on a true story of survival during Viet Nam. So I decided I needed to be as heroic as the main character. As long as there aren't any leeches involved . Seriously, if you haven't seen the movie, it's well worth renting.

Day 6 - Monday, January, 26, 2009 "Barack and Me and the Secret"

I was thinking about the possibilities for this blog’s outcome at the end of the first 100 days of Barack Obama’s Presidency. To be more specific, I was thinking about the possible outcomes for my husband and myself and about how writing a blog might actually affect that outcome. The prefix “meta-“ comes to mind - as in the term “meta-cognition” (thinking about thinking.) In essence, in this entry I am metablogging, i.e., blogging about blogging.

So the question is this. Given that I am writing about my husband’s lay-off during the economic down turn, am I the writer and you the reader anticipating that this blog might end up to be an all- too-close-to reality “Grapes of Wrath” tale? We could just call it then, “The Asp of Wrath” (asp being the un-aconym-ized form of A.S.P., one of the many software languages my husband uses to program the software he writes for companies.) The use of “asp,” of course, over other programming languages we could use like JAVA and .net, has a nice sinister snake-like reference appropriate for the sting of foreclosure and Madeoff's madness. Besides, the use of “asp” and “wrath” together creates desired assonance as they do in poetry and this is certainly an economic time of “ass-o-nance”.

The blog of the first 100 days and later the book that would follow, “The Asp of Wrath,” has the potential of being as poignant a drama as its predecessor. Only now we'd feature my husband and I treking eastward instead of westward with our 5th wheel instead of the Joad's broken down pick-up. To add to effect we'd be pulled by some other poor soul going east - someone who actually possessed the truck we truly don't own to haul our RV . There would be scenes of tearful good-byes to my daughter, the gig-less actress in LA and our son the unpaid sound engineer intern in Sylmar. We’d stop along the way to bid adieu to our other son, the still employed graphic designer in Arizona. He’d probably give us some extra cash he had for our trip, and we’d head east along with all the other software engineers and unemployed self-proclaimed geeks and countless others who were non-geeks. Lucky we don’t have a grandma to die along the way!

But how else could a blog like this turn out? I thought, and that thought scared me. I immediately tried to imagine how a scenario of prosperity could manifest itself and manifest itself quickly. It was quite a difficult task. So it occured to me that Barack and I, in order to have a non-Asp-of-Wrath outcome, need to start changing and change quickly. We need to re-listen to our CD’s on “The Secret.” We need to stop saying, "It's going to get worse before it gets better." We have to stop using the word, "dire". Calling reality what it is has never been useful to me. If we have euphemisms for death, for war, for Donald Trump, why can't we have a euphemism for word "dire"? If Taco Bell can call a huge 22 ounce cup of pop "a small drink," then why can’t we call this down-turn a slight adjustment. If we can call whatever it is that Pierce Bronson did in "Mamma Mia" singing, why can't we call this bleak time dancing?

Barack and I have to be careful about getting hooked on the drug of making it through hard times. I remember hearing the mother of a friend of mine, years ago, recall bad times with almost a sense of joy. "Remember when we had only one hamburger left to share, Joey, while we waited on the bed for the repo guys to take the furniture? Those were good times." She actually uttered those words.

And yes, I do find it energizing now to be creative about getting money. I'm glad I thought of doing our taxes right away in anticipation of a refund. I'm glad I thought of selling the lawnmower. I'm proud I got two meals out of the pound of turkey. It was all actually kind of fun.


But I say, we mustn't become too comfortable with being uncomfortable. It’s all very romantic to link our arms together and tell each other we suffer through it all with dignity. It’s intoxicating to find the coins in the cushion and get cash for selling our books and junk on ebay and amazon.com. But let us not get too excited about being creative in adapting to scarity. Let's, instead, get excited about being creative in building prosperity with a whole new energy source and creating new paradigms for city developments. Let's believe something miraculous will happen for the people whose homes were foreclosed. I can't imagine what it is right now, but we can believe that it exists. There's no sense in saying we can't make abundance again and quickly.

So I refuse to let this blog end up as "The Asp of Wrath". I'm going to believe that my husband will find an even better job than before, and because of that job, we'll be able to buy a house in this perfect time to buy a house. I chose to believe we'll have enough to add to the abundance of others. It's my belief that a great deal of impropriety (and I use a euphemism here) was going on throughout the country. CEO's were lying to themselves about how they were gaining wealth and justifying their actions with rationalization. They were like the weeds that were choking the garden. Yes, pulling them out has left depressions in the soil, but that's just where we can experience fresh, new and greener growth and a healthier garden.

Day 5 - Sunday, January 25, 2009 "What's Goin' On?"

Didn't listen to the news today, so it might be a good time to recap some of the significant economically related events going on in the microcosmic realm of our little RV behind the scenes of the dramatic play taking place on the stage of the White House and the Halls of Congress.

Advise from Aunt Lorraine- The sweetest person behind the scenes is my 91 year old Aunt. (Let's call her Aunt Lorraine. I want to keep this blog as anonymous as possible so I have the freedom to say the unbridled truth.) So Aunt Lorraine has been through the Depression - twice, she told me. She lives about 1500 miles away from us, so I talk to her only once a week or so. This is the first she heard of the lay-off, or at least that's how she couched our conversation. (My cousin Lynn knew and probably told her, but of course, told her not to tell me she told her. Our family is just that way).

My Aunt Lorraine has an indominable spirit. She had told me weeks ago before Mike was laid off that the economy would get worse, but I knew she didn't think of Mike losing his job. She laughed when I told her we were on the beach and maybe Mike would find a diamond ring that had been long lost and unrecoverable. She then told me the story of a woman she heard of who found $25,000 in a pair of boots she bought from Goodwill. Aunt Lorrainee knows we go to Goodwill often, for fun and to even to buy things we need, so laughing she reminded me to be sure to keep looking at the boots in Goodwill.

Aunt Lorraine's most important advise was to stay healthy. I was thinking that myself. We don't need more doctor bills. We only have $400 to pay off from my triple by-pass last year and we're going to do everything we can to be sure we stay healthy. So today we bought pomegranate juice to prevent breast cancer, broccoli and brussel sprouts to prevent whatever cancer they prevent, and a bottle of fish oil so we can stay mentally alert and hopefully sane.

What's Goin' On - I hadn't know until watching DL Hughly's show last night on CNN that Barack Obama's favorite song is "What's Goin' On". Behind the scenes across America, this song is probably echoing in hundreds of minds. But it's a fun song - a song that says I admit I don't know what's goin' on, but in my admitting, I have power to control what's goin' on.

Final thought - Paula Poundstone
The final recapping type thought I've had on this fifth day of President Obama's first 100 days, is the recalling of an audio essay by Paula Poundstone on npr.org right after the election. It was a well-crafted, brilliantly humorous piece that asked President Obama to tell us to give us a job - tell us what to do - have a slogan like they did during World War II.

I think we've all been wondering about how we can help each other out, and I have some ideas. Like the store owner who bought my sister-in-laws bean bags to sell, we should support our friends who have small businesses in that way. So what if you don't need home-made lavender soap. If you have the money, buy some from your cousin Chris. Maybe ask your carpenter neighbor Jack to build you a coat rack or something. Yes, we need to hike our cans of green beans over to the food shelves, but buying things from our neighbors is important too. And for goodness sake, if you're blessed with wealth, go buy something! Or here's an idea that one of the clerks in the little store I mentioned told me she's doing. She's actually paying the mortgage for two people. She works in the store just to get out and she didn't tell me who the people are or how she's able to do this remarkable deed, but there's a truly noble act.

And of course this part of my blog wouldn't be complete without talking about two of my neighbors who learned that I decided to assemble a product I had in storage. They came over and for an entire morning, helped me get 75 pieces together. And so it goes.

Barack Obama is not as progressive a President as I would have wanted. I wish his views were less militaristic. I listen to Noam Chomsky and I understand that Mr. Obama's centrist views are sometimes very close to the Republicans. But President Obama is more than that. He is a symbol of the idealism of America that all but disappeared in the years after the assassination of John F. Kennedy and while the war in Viet Nam continued. Barack Obama is a reflection of our nobler selves at this time, the people we aspire to be. And that is precisely what is showing up in the actions of our acquaintances, our neighbors, our families, and hopefully ourselves.

Day 4 - Saturday, January 24, 2009 "Barack Is Finding His Voice - Where's Mine?"

Earlier in the week, it is said that President Obama, in response to Rep. Eric Cantor's (R-VA) opinion that cutting income taxes would do more to stimulate economic growth than handing out a $500 individual payroll tax refund, responded, "I won,” I will trump you on that.” Given Mr. Obama's persistent affect of humility let alone his dragging around the biography of Abraham Lincoln, one has to assume that

this was an attempt by our new President to maintain his authority with a bit of humor. The Republicans didn't find it funny, but I'm sure that as President Obama finds his stride, he'll find the voice that works for him.

As for me, I'm trying to find the voice I wish to express myself during my first hundred days alongside Barack Obama (figuratively speaking ).

During the course of the day, while my husband and I worked on our web site of ten years in an attempt to for once make it at least a bit profitable while he's laid off, ideas floated in my brain of how I wished to shape this blog. I have essays half done in my mind - one tentatively titled, "Why White People Cried at the Inauguration." I have my own stimulus ideas for the masses that I want to put in an essay called "Come On, Rich People, Buy Some Stuff". Like Barack, I'll find it. I'm just glad I don't have the press following me around recording my learning curve.

Aside from the search for my voice, we were searching for some cash since my husband's last paycheck will be coming all too soon on February 5. I must admit we were creative. Mike's sister makes fantastically sturdy and attractive bean bags for the throwing game. She uses college logo material like USC and UCLA. We bought two bags from her when we heard of her new business, hoping to sell them at our RV park. They have been sitting around for months, so on Saturday we approached the little store in our RV park and my husband convinced the manager that these bags were precisely what his store needed. He was creative and enterprising and the voice he found brought us $50 extra dollars. It's amazing what trying to stay afloat will bring out in people. Let's hope it continues to be all positive!

Days 1-3 January 21-23 "Wait, Wait Mr. President"

Today is Friday, January 23rd, and I'm already three days behind. This personal diary paralleling Barack Obama's and my own glorious new beginning of chronicling our first (hopefully less than 100 days of lay off) was to begin on Wednesday. ( Already a picture emerges of why President Obama is the one living in the White House, and I'm the one living in an RV -

procrastinators don't make it to White House.) Nevertheless, in my favor, we do already have a dog.

So at break-neck, out-of-breath speed, I'll try to catch up to the President starting even before Day One on Inauguration Day, or what I like to think of as New Year's Eve. (It's always good to have a reason to start all over again).

Tuesday, Inauguration Day, January 20, 2009

My husband and I awoke at 6:00 am, earlier than usual. I had a grand plan which included watching the Inauguration live, of course, but also had a scheme of less noble intentions that involved the LA Times and ebay.

Normally, I wouldn't have been so mercenary on such an auspicious and historic occasion, but only five days before, one of those dreaded pink-slips that have become so ubiquitous lately, came karate-chopping its way into our lives, slicing up any and all sense of security my husband and I might have had.

So at approximately 6:30 am Pacific time, while the President-Elect and Michelle Obama were calmly and with dignity kneeling in Church, my husband and I were running around like lunatics trying to grab the L.A. Times, New York Times, and any other Times we could find so that perhaps we could sell them on eBay for what I was certain would be a few hundred dollars each. Of course there were no pictures of the Inauguration on these editions because it hadn't happened yet! But in spite of my husband's doubts, I was sure that a newspaper with the exact date of the special day would be our ticket to maybe being able to go out to eat a time or two next week as opposed to facing the salmon paddies and tuna casseroles we knew were possibly imminent.

After hitting Barnes and Noble, and Borders, the lobby of the Hyatt Regency Hotel, and a few newspaper boxes along our way to McDonald's for breakfast, we were able to secure our future with seven or so newspapers. We watched CNN with our fruit and yogurt parfaits and were getting emotional enough to want to share the actual Inauguration with only each other in the RV, so we took our 79 cent senior coffee and left.

It was good to be back home when President-Elect Obama took the oath to become President because tears streamed down both our faces. We are the generation who watched as President Kennedy took office and wept at his famous line inspiring us to ask what we could do for our country. It was all so familiar. We are the "Blowing in the Wind" people , the "Leaving on the Jet Plane" crowd who understood "leaving" to mean saying good-bye to your husband as he went off on the plane to Viet Nam. We are the generation who protested and were right. It felt so much the same.

But we quickly pulled ourselves together and while President Obama and Vice-President Biden and their wives walked and waved down Pennsylvania Avenue, we got back to work checking out the going price of Inauguration newspapers on eBay; working on our small on-line software business; and waiting for the phone to ring with the usual software recruiters who call when my husband posts his resume on-line. There were no calls. No worries - Wanda Sykes filled in for Charlie Sheen on Jay Leno and saved our day: "You might as well get used to it, because that's what we do now. Charlie Sheen, white guy, let you down. Black people show up to the rescue! That's what we do now, we save your white ass, Jay." And of course Craig Ferguson brought us back to the ebullient mood with which we had begun the day.

And the comics will show the way!

Day One - Wednesday, January 21, 2009 : After realizing the Inauguration newspapers people were seeking were actually those of the day AFTER Inauguration - the ones with the sweet pictures - we set out again to Barnes and Noble, Borders, newspaper boxes, and Denny's. It was only the box in front of Denny's that had some left, so we bought some, walked in and ordered one breakfast that we shared. Feeling less hopeful that our eBay sales would substitute for a our lost paycheck, we decided that at least we had enough newspapers to give to our adult children next Christmas. The evening news showed President Obama signing proclamations and declarations - all with his left hand. I was elated. My brother in handed-ness was in the White House. My "side" won this time! Time to upgrade my podcast "The Fight for Molly Dooker Day" my Civil Left-rights podcast.

Day Two - Thursday, January 22, 2009 - One or two software job calls. I spend the day working on our website, getting new ideas of people who might like our products. My husband continues searching "the boards" online. There's a job in Knoxville. "Do we really want to go there?" We've been on the road since 2004 when my husband was first laid off after 19 years with the same consulting firms. It's been 6 months here, 12 months there, a wondrous adventure until we decided we needed to be close to the kids in California and Arizona. But the worry has left for some reason. Maybe it's because I laughed at Wanda Sykes last night on Jay Leno. Maybe it's because I find it incredibly amusing to watch the White House secretaries, the administrative kind, persistently trying to get pens back from President Obama. He seems puzzled that after he signs a proclamation, they want the pen back. (I heard him comment on the first day, "They told me not to swipe the pen." And the visual image today of the White House administrative secretary crossing over from the President's right side of the President's desk, crossing her arm in front of him, to almost tear the pen out of his left hand was priceless. People who have come from humble roots like Barack and I have tend to view expensive Waterford, Cross, and Fountain Bleu pens as unnecessary and redundant in the world. I'm only guessing on Barack's mindset on pens here. But he'll soon get used to the opulence. Let's hope, however, that he can always appreciate the beauty of a really nice Flair. And let's hope that the White House staff soon realizes that they have to stand on the side they're just not used to!

All in all, the real reason I feel better today about everything might just be all about me and how I figured out how to use the "more" button on this blog! It's our own personal triumphs over the small things that give us hope we can conquer the world.

Day Three - Friday January 23, 2009

While President Obama sat at a 20 ft. table in the White house trying to sell his economic stimulus package to both Democrats and Republicans, I sat in our RV trying to sell my economic plan to my husband. Communicating with a left-brained person is never easy for me; they're all about the details and I'm all about the big picture. However, there's nothing like being close to broke that will get a big picture person down to reality, so this conversation was one of our easiest. I threw out the idea that maybe we should run up 40 miles (2 hours on the California freeways) to start rummaging through our storage locker finding anything valuable that we may still have left after his initial lay-off in 2004. We could pull out our lawn mower and a lovely oak rocker that my father refinished for me in 1978 and take some pictures for craigslist. And, of course, there are my daughter's old toys I dragged from Minnesota to South Carolina and finally to California to keep for some future grandchildren. A quick search for cabbage patch kids on ebay led me to believe that lots of laid off souls have old cabbage patch dolls to sell and we're not going to pay the rent at the RV park from that endeavor. We decided against the whole storage locker trip and my husband instead contacted old colleagues throughout the country to see how things were skaking down in their area while I kept working on our small business website.

Email replies were fast in coming to Mike. Apparently the South Carolina software consultants are becoming "just as laid off" as we in California. A friend in Denver knew of an immediate opening for Mike, if only he knew WCF which was "just released in 2008, a new protocol part of .net 3.5" - whatever that is. (I only can talk the talk.) Mike's been programming since the 1970's and knows about 12 languages, but oops, no WCF. So I went back to thinking about selling the lawnmower.

The mail came with a $25 coupon to play at the Pechenga Casino. "Should we go or not" became our next hefty decision. We decided we'd do it when we finally make the trip to the storage locker - already we're becoming so economical.

No going out to a show or eating out tonight - drats. Nevertheless, we have Craig Ferguson once again. Maybe I can find a picture of him, put it in a frame with a votive candle in front of it.

Whew! Well, now I'm all caught up to the President. So I'll just say, "Goodnight Barack, you can carry on now." "Goodnight, Michelle." "Goodnight, Sasha and Malia." "Goodnight John Boy." It's all so familiar.

Unintended Consequence - An Obama Effect

November 6, 2008

We were listening to NPR as my husband drove to work this morning, and I noticed that several of the comments by pundits of various backgrounds all seemed to have the same theme. The underlying message was that after the election of Barack Obama, no one, any more, has an excuse to fail. I commented that I could see a danger in perpetuating that thinking and started talking about privilege. My husband couldn’t figure out what I meant or why I felt the way I did. He tried to explain, “Honey, I think that it just means that now people will just try a little harder.” Now I was infuriated at him. He was puzzled at my response that he missed his turn. “You know I can’t drive and talk,” he said. “Well, I responded, other people can drive and talk. I think you should just try a little harder.” I think he got the message.

Diary of An Election Day Democrat - 2008

This is turning out to be a much more complicated emotional day than I could have envisioned. Thus, I decided to blog this historic day, hour by hour, in a raw, unleashed-sort-of-revelation of myself to myself and to you - dear reader of this day's diary. It's 11:30 California Pacific Coast time, so I'll have to catch up on the past 4 1/2 hours to the best of my recollection. The hours after that, will hopefully be eye-witness reporting of the emotional state of this anonymous Democrat.

7:00 - Edgy

woke up a bit edgy. Why? might be because I wanted this to be a landslide. It's too close for my comfort.

Edgy to the First Power -

Couldn't find my HuntingtonDogBeach.com hat - the one that's innocuous enough to wear to the polls. (I had already called my daughter in Hollywood yesterday informing her that voters cannot wear hats, shirts, etc. to the polls - She'd look so cute, though, in that Obama shirt I got her). Couldn't find my hat, so I ended up with a plain hat to cover the gray hair I didn't have time to color. My husband Mike throws on a wrinkled shirt and wrinkled pants. (He'll go to work after we vote). Surely you shouldn't wear a wrinkled shirt and pants to the voting place, let alone to work! I nag and he irons his pants. I should have done that, I think, but isn't working all day on my business day after day more important than ironing? My thoughts are off of the election because now he's a bit crabby 'cuz he is capitulating to my wishes for him to be presentable. Or, I wonder, is it because in his heart of hearts he'd like a traditional wife who actually washes clothes and irons and isn't working on our company's web site while he is at work doing line-by-line tedious software coding?

I throw an egg into the microwave for him and slap the on some toast to making a healthier, albeit, less appealing version of an egg McMuffin. My tennis shoes are outside the RV, and of course it rained, so I have to wear these stupid "real" shoes which means I really should put on pantyhose since the women poll workers are all from Newport Beach. It happens to be where our RV is parked for 6 months at a shot, and I always feel like a Lake Trout who plunked itself in the exotic Pacific Ocean. Mike eats his egg sandwich and pours coffee for us.

Edgy to the Second Power

The TV is on this morning. I never put it on at this time usually - only NPR 'cuz Mike is such a visual person that he'd stand and watch it every day and be late for work. But this morning is special. My edginess and agitation increases, though, because the Today Show or whatever show it is that has Diane Sawyer scanning the audience standing on the NY street where that show is taped. A large group with McCain signs is cheerfully shouting. There is an equally large group with Obama signs, but the McCain people are louder. Drats. I'm worried.

8:00 - Edgy to the Third Power

My husband and I both look for Scooter's leash, find it, grab our coffees and are out the door. We let Scooter water a little of the landscaping at our RV park. (It will take too long to try to steer him away from it on this morning when we want to move fast.) We jump into the car; it's only a block to the polling place at the Senior Citizen apartment complex next to our RV park, but we're in a hurry because Mike has to get to work. (They have given him an hour to vote today).

Edgy to the Fourth Power

I suspected we'd be pulled from the list because of our address. After all we stay in an RV park, and it's the only address we have. Even though we voted there twice in the past two years, we're not on the list. I called yesterday to kpcc radio station (our NPR affiliate) and found out that RV-ers like us are considered the same way as are homeless people and we only need to put down a physical location of where we are to vote. I feel more homeless than ever today.

Past Edgy into Embarrassed and Borderline Angry

The woman who is trying to help is loud, and I'm embarrassed to say we stay at the RV Park even though most of the people who stay there have huge $200,000 RVs. How would she know we have a 5th wheel and don't even have a truck, but I still feel embarrassed that she's exposing our situation to the elite of Newport Beach. I'm glad I have on that attractive Safari type shirt I bought 5 years ago on sale at Macy's or someplace. Are people watching? Who gives a damn? Well, I do. Damn. So she loudly states that we have to fill out a provisional ballot. I feel like people think we're trying to cheat or something. Who cares? (I want to type "Who the hell cares" right now, but I'm worried that you'll think I'm crass and I'll lose credibility. Gads, I'm messed up.) So, we're filling out the provisional form and now I'm worried that my driver's license won't match this RV park's license. What is a person to do in this situation? We have no address. Period.

A portly older man is worried about his ballot also. (He must be doing a provisional as well). He asks about the check marks he's made. Does he have to fill-in the box? Yes. Why? he asks. The woman explain that it needs to be scanned that way. Now she has me wondering if we need to do it in #2 pencil like the old SAT tests and I ask about that. Now he wonders. My husband hears us from the booth and says "No" it doesn't matter. They scan the ink. I think to myself that my husband is smarter than all these people. Why aren't we better off like they are?

8:30 - Full Scale Angry

Embarrassment is still hanging around me as I go into the booth. It feels stupid that after 40 some years of voting, I'm writing my ballot by hand. It's because of our RV situation. Don't get me wrong. I know I'm living in paradise, but we're so stinkin' broke.

My anger is soothed as I fill in the rectangle for Obama. Yay! But as I continue, it feels as if the emotions of the morning have nevertheless tainted it for me.

I go to the propositions and can't remember what I heard all week when I listened to Larry Mantle on the local NPR. I also had downloaded all the propositions from the League of Women Voters site web site and thought I'd be ready to simply mark my votes quickly. Still, I want to read them as they appear on the ballot once again, but the white haired poll-worker brigade outside is talking so loud as they answer the damn Newport Beach voter questions, that I can't think! Are these people just so used to having their own way about everything in the frickin' world that they can't speak in a tone that doesn't push them right into another person's mind? The classism is getting to me. Are they knowingly rude or just plain so full of themselves that they don't see how rude they are? A voting place should be a quiet place. It should be like a frickin' church for heaven's sake. Geez. I'm getting angrier and angrier. And I wanted this day to be special. Damn! I think behind it all is the worry that Barack Obama won't win.

I continue with my ballot, softly vocalizing some of the propositional text to myself so I'm sure I voting correctly. In my native Minnesota there is very little of this propositional thing going on, so while I have voted in California for two years, I still feel the heaviness of the obligation and want to get it right.

I finish my ballot, fold it up in it's provisional envelope. The poll worker puts it in the slot of the box for the hand written ballots. My husband reminds me to take an "I Voted" sticker and we're off.

Tear Dam Bursts

So the pent-up emotion of the whole voting thing bursts forth in the car, and I tell my husband though whinny tears how homeless I feel. I tell him I love staying in this paradise of Newport Beach, but I can't understand how it is that he, who is so smart, and I, who am not stupid, haven't been able to achieve what all these people around us have achieved.

I decide part of our problem is because we have high standards in our behavior and always have. We do morally ethical things that probably hurt us financially - stuff like our refusal to advertise on the kid's page of our web site. We wouldn't want the learning games we created for kids to lead them to dangerous places on the web. And it's the other stuff we do. I start listing things I can think of to Mike. "Like,we tip generously," I say to Mike. He continues on this line and he talks about the guy at work who says he'll leave a measly dollar if he gets perfect service. We agree that that whole kind of mentality is why that guy has money and we don't - that and having spouses who left us. Divorce is the big one even 20 years down the line.

8:45 - Starbucks in Newport Beach - I'm trying to feel cheerful - I usually am when we're driving down the PCH. Mike takes this way because he wants to get the free coffee at Starbucks. (I don't like to take anything free, but I know that's just stupid. I'm not in the mood for coffee or going in to face more people for some reason. The lines are long at the first Starbucks - the one near Balboa Island so we head south. We've never been in the second one near Corona del Mar and didn't know there's parking underground. Mike parks and walks up to Starbucks. I stay in the car with Scooter. But Scooter's anxious to get out, and I think it's because he's not finished with his morning routine, so we get out. He barks at a beautiful black poodle and the woman looks at us with a disapproving glance, so I try to sound sweet and sophisticated and wealthy. ( I really, really have to get a handle on the class warfare going on inside of me.) Scooter and I walk up the ramp and around the sidewalk to Starbucks where Mike is coming out with his coffee. I tell him I changed my mind and ask for some cash (I never carry cash) to get a biscotti. ( I really don't want the biscotti, but just can't accept the free coffee without buying something. It was my mother's way passed on to me).

I'm inside Starbucks, still with the chip from the polling place refusing to fall off shoulder. The woman in front of me is a svelte 50, and well-decked out in her expensive, but significantly understated running outfit. She's talking to a charming younger man saying something about how her friend will foolishly vote for Obama thinking he will magically fix everything. The chip is now a brick, and I want to shun these two in front of me. I try to pretend to myself that the draft of a book that I recently submitted to publishers is already published and these two in front of me don't know that behind them is a marvelous author. (I put that in my brain so that permeate through my body and show in my stature). A woman older than the first, maybe even my age but in much better shape than I am, comes up to her apparent friend. She has a British accent, and I wonder if she's more open-minded than her friend, being European and all. (Oiy! the stereotypes I cling to).

I get the coffee and a biscotti and leave a dollar in the tip jar as well. (Some decked out wealthy dude is behind me and I don't want him to think I'm trailer trash which essentially I am given my situation and all. (My counselor would hate me to sound so victimized.)

That smiley grounded guy who had been talking to jogger queen is ahead of me as he pours half- and-half into his cup. He takes a long time, oblivious to anyone behind him, and I think again about the arrogance of wealth. My husband is standing outside with Scooter and I sign to him in Sign Language. (My husband doesn't know what I'm saying and I know he doesn't know, but I do it to gain some sort of one-up-man-ship with this crowd. It's stupid I know, but I feel like I need to have something they don't have - and sign language is all I've got. No one sees me anyway, the guy in front of me is still pouring his cream into his coffee and looking down. He's actually a cheerful, kindly sort and tries to engage me in a voting conversation saying something about the lines at the polls not being long. I say something inane about how they should have been longer, but only I know what he means.

9:00 - Turning it Around

So the coffee and the biscotti are doing their work taking the edge off. I offer Mike my biscotti and he takes a bite. I know he's just thinking of me by not taking more, and tell him, "No, take it all." I start to feel like crass Katy is disappearing and the nicer person is emerging. I tell Mike I know all of this "victimization" I feel has been because I feel inferior. But what if I really AM inferior? I posit. And I start singing that line from that old Melanie song... "When you're analyst tries to tell you that you really ARE inferior." We laugh and decide that he could use that line with the guy at work who talks about not tipping. Something like, "No, don't worry about not tipping, you really ARE inferior," or something like that. We'll have to think that out later. I ask Mike to reach back and get me my Obama hat from the back shelf of the car and I put it on. I feel better. We head for Mike's work.

9:30 - Back Home to Work and Await the Results

I drop Mike off. We kiss and I admonish him to NOT talk politics to all his Republican co-workers. (I don't want him to lose his job in this economic downturn). He reminds me that I have my Obama hat on. (I think he wants to tell me that I don't want to lose my Republican friends back at the RV resort.) On the way home, I turn on NPR on the radio, then Pacifica radio and I'm disappointed that there are no projections. Drats.

My daughter calls from Santa Monica. She's in line at the voting poll. It's fun to talk to her when she's in line. She tells me about a weird experience she has having. Earlier in the morning, she had been thinking of a person she seldom sees and then all of the suddent, out of the blue, she turned in front of her on her way into the polling place. Lucky things have been happening to her lately, and I tell her to buy a lottery ticket and pick the numbers because she's obviously on some wave length. We both only partially believe that, but still...

My daughter phone is starting to die as I'm getting ready to read her the League's position on the propositions. (She's from Minnesota as well and not used to the proposition proposition). I tell her I think I'm going to blog about today and, as usual, she supports my crazy idea. (I'm so glad I have a daughter like her!) Her phone dies in the middle of our conversation and I start the blog.

10:30 -

I try to find out how to get AdSense on this blog, I've done it before and am frustrated that I can't figure it out. Oh, well.

I turn on NPR, no updates. I turn on CNN, a newsman is interviewing Joe the Plumber. Joe is trying to explain that even though he doesn't make $250,000, in the future, when he does, he doesn't want the government to take it away. TAKE IT AWAY! Why in the hell, doesn't the newscaster talk about that comment. He brushes up against it. No one EVER talks about the exponentially of wealth and how THAT is the reason tax is progressive. Joe the Plumber trips himself up by saying something about how if he worked hard enough (as if others who don't make money don't work hard enough) or is LUCKY enough to make that much... Well, EXACTLY. If you reap the benefits of a free society - the benefits that capitalism affords you. Oh, I'm sick of trying to explain it. It's so frickin' cheap. People are so frickin' cheap. I just don't understand it. I pray to heaven that if I make $250,000 I will gladly give more. Or does something just happen to a person when that money thing kicks in.

2:20 FINALLY - Projections

I stopped typing - finally caught up - and turned on CNN. Wolff Blizer is just about to give some projections. It's 5:20 on the East Coast, so here we go. After I hear these numbers, I'll go to pay the rent for our RV space. We'll have little after that, but if this election goes well, I'll be happy and not worried about our bank account.

Yikes, the Republicans are saying Obama is "too radical, too risky". Are they frickin' crazy? For heaven's sakes, are people so stupid? Barack Obama is not Nader or Kucinich. Oiy! Drives me nuts! Oh Lord, now there's some prayer inspiration commercial. What the?

Virginia - problems - had rain - people used optical scan machines and their wet clothing dropped onto the ballots - 1000 people in line in someplace in Virginia, but no major problems.

So many commercials - better go pay the rent first - ooh, ooh, wait - new voters going toward Obama. Hope floats!

3:30 Tension Mounts Wore my Obama hat walking around the bay to the office to pay the rent on our RV space. Lots of my very dear friends and neighbors are Republican based on what they have told me and based my observation of people's responses when I wear my hat - i.e. There is no response, and in some cases my neighbor's initial smiles when they see me fade into oblivion as they say "Hi" and pass. It's almost as if they view us Democrats as immoral; I really sense that.

So back in the RV, CNN is talking about the polls closing in six states. They are about to make a projection - Vermont will carry Obama, McCain will carry Kentucky. Neither are surprises. Georgia, Indiana, S. Carolina, and Virginia are battleground states and CNN is waiting until the real numbers come in. Indiana and Virginia haven't gone Democratic since LBJ.

Back to filling two orders for my company - have to get that done before picking up Mike.

5:00 - Picking Up Mike

Finished the orders to be shipped for my little company, and I'm off to pick up Mike at work. Returns have started to come in and quickly it's looking like things are turning in Senator Obama's favor. I grab my Bruce Springsteen CD on the way out, the one with "Born in America." I want to blast it in the car if Senator Obama wins. I have a need to show Republicans who view those who think differently than they do as unpatriotic that we are ever as much noble as they think they themselves are. If Senator Obama does win, it will feel as if my views have been vindicated.

So my mood is shifting, finally! I call Mike and ask him to google "Orange County Democrats" to see if there's a party. There is a party at a restaurant in Newport Beach - Sutre I think is the name of the restaurant. We've never been there, but go to the movies in the triangle where it's located.

I tell Mike we need to pick up some flags. I consider myself a citizen of the world and never fly flags, but tonight, I want to fly flags. We walk into the CVS store; they have no flags. We go into a hardware store. My feet are hurting from the shoes I put on to match my top. They do have flags and I buy 3 small ones.

We arrive at the restaurant and people are there with clipboards. I hope we're allowed in. We sign our names and receive little paper tickets. There's a table with plastic top hats and a bag with red, white and blue leis and confetti. I convince Mike we need to buy the party pack. As we walk into the restaurant/bar the ceiling is covered in red, white and blue balloons. Mike puts on his hat and we move to a place in front of the big screen TV behind a row of people already there.

The results are coming in and the room becomes jubulant. I'm standing next to a black woman we met on the elevator. She's charming and says the man next to David Gergon on CNN is a friend of hers from Texas. She has her MBA and works in Orange County for a biomedical corporation. We have an affinity to each other, not because of the night, but because we would have anyway.

We listen to McCain's concession speech. The crowd is respectful. It seems to take a long time for Senator Obama to arrive. He finally does and the noise in the room is deafening. Senator Obama speaks and I let the tears come as they want. The woman next to me has feelings deeper than tears. I want more of the speech. I want to hear words that promise we are heading for a new path away from military solutions, but I know Senator Obama has to be moderate and I hope it's only for now.

When the speech is over, we drive home. I put the Bruce Springsteen CD in the player and ask Mike to turn up the volume and roll down the windows as we drive into our RV park in Orange County. My dear friends, Republicans all, will forgive me this night's indulgence. We park the car in front of our 5th wheel as we do every night and I put each of the three flags I bought into one of three potted plants I have; my neighbors will see them first thing in the morning. We go inside and watch a little of the remaining commentary and hoopla on TV and then go to bed.

It's been a very good day. Tomorrow I'll take off the Obama bumper sticker; I remember how I felt the day after President Bush was elected - twice. There's no need to gloat. We're all in this together, but tonight I'm proud of the choice that my side made.