Another Doomed Idea?

Homer Simpson: "I'm risking my life to save people I hate for reasons I don't quite understand."

My daughter: "Sounds like you, Mommy!!"

Me: "I'm doing it for the three percent at 50 retirement!!!!! I understand my reasons quite well, thank you."

But that's another post entirely...

As I watched another Escalade pull out of the "low income" housing project that recently sprung up in my neighborhood, it occurred to me that I'm working really hard, and paying a lot of taxes, and exercising my civil duties as a citizen so I can watch my hard-earned tax dollars pay for housing for people so they can stay home with their kids and buy luxury vehicles. I'm not bitter about it, really I'm not... I think our system of welfare and Section 8, etc, is a good thing to have for folks who find themselves in a tough spot and don't have the resources to get out of it.

One thing, though: I think that every person who is initially applying for welfare (be it unemployment, food stamps, subsidization, or Section 8 housing) should have to submit to drug testing. Those who submit samples that reveal illicit drug use must wait one year to re-apply. Those who pass the initial screening and are accepted for subsidization must submit to weekly testing for drug use in order to keep their benefits. Should they submit a sample that reveals positive results at any time, their benefits are suspended for one year and they must re-apply if they still are in need of subsidization.

My husband told me that this idea is a good one, but that the ACLU would be all over it because drug testing applicants for Federal/State aid would constitute an "invasion of privacy." I told him that my counter to the ACLU is the invocation of MY rights pursuant to the Fourteenth Amendment, in that the government can not subvert MY rights as a True Citizen in favor of another group who, by their very application for subsidy, has reneged their claim to respective Citizenship. In other, harsher terms, the government can not expect me - a tax-paying, law-abiding, productive citizen - to support the criminality of persons whom are fiscally supported by a large chunk of my tax dollars. This violates my rights pursuant to our Constitution. It also violates my sensibilities.

So, I'm accepting arguments: I believe that my idea will save money, promote lawful self-sufficiency, build safer "low-income" neighborhoods, and send a clear message to those who have no qualms about forfeiting the American Dream for a monthly check that they didn't earn, a roof over their head that they didn't pay for, and plenty of money and time to indulge in drugs, gang terrorism, irresponsible procreation, and Escalade buying. I believe that expecting those people who are not, for whatever reason, able to work at this time to prove on a weekly basis that, should an opportunity for employment arise, they are drug-free and prepared to accept their civil duty will foster a lower unemployment rate, better service and subsidy for those who REALLY need it, and dramatically lower the rate of third- and fourth-generation "welfare families." I believe that if America is committed to "the war on drugs," my idea
will remove any doubt about the "zero tolerance" ambiguity we've been subject to for several years and plant us squarely on one side of the fence.

What say you?

Relapse #....Oh, Hell, I've Lost Count

As a fellow blogger commented, "Epiphany is easy. Follow-up is hard."

I've been doing very well in my efforts to re-empower my husband and help him feel more like a man and less like one of the children. And it really has paid off, in numerous and unpredicatable ways. The most obvious: he's just nicer to be around when he feels good about himself. The house is much less tense and much more harmonious, even though I remain in Novice Mode.

Today, however, I had another relapse. Probably the worst one yet.

We currently have six - yes, six - vehicles registered and insured. A few of them are paid off, others we are making payments on. Three motorcycles, two cars, and one truck (which currently is mouldering in the driveway and leaking noxious fluid into my rose bed because its movie debut resulted in valve damage). We've recently put a lot of money into my husband's VN2000 Rogue, and took it into the shop yet again today because it has developed a mysterious fluid leak. We have parts on order for the Rogue that haven't appeared yet. I just re-registered it a month ago. As little as two weeks ago, he swore the Rogue would be his last motorcycle because he "loves it so much." The Rogue was, at its unveiling, the largest and most powerful production motorcycle made, offering 2053cc of displacement. Currently, there is only one other production motorcycle offered that has more displacement. We still owe about $7000 on it.

Hubby and I rode to the shop together, dropped off the Rogue, and then both hopped on my Strat to go home, via the local Harley-Davidson dealer because there is always fun stuff going on there on the weekends. Little did I know there was an ulterior motive.

After hanging out at the Harley dealership for awhile, talking with folks and checking out the bikes (they all look the same to me: ridiculously expensive), we rode home. We settled in the backyard, lit up some cigars, and I dug out the laptop to pay some bills online while we smoked and relaxed. A few minutes later, my husband announced, "I think I'll see if Steve (our son) wants to buy the Rogue."

WTF??? I thought. Okay, I thought it aloud. Welcome to my relapse.

Hubby then proceeded to tell me that he wants to buy an UltraGlide. Now. Those of you who aren't familiar with the Ultra, they cost about $30,000+ with all the bells and whistles, and start at about $25,000 for a basic model.

Some history: we've just refinanced our mortgage and are now "mortgaged to the teeth." Our eldest daughter's wedding is coming up in October. We just threw down $10,000 on my middle daughter's new (and completely amazing) teeth. The truck will need some work and we still don't know the extent of it, but we do know that we'll have to pull the engine. My motorcyle needs service and will need new tires soon. One week ago to the day we decided that we were going to commit to a complete lifestyle change in order to pay off all our debt so we can ensure a fun and stress-free retirement. The lifestyle change we commited to included refraining from buying anything else on credit. I feel I must also mention that our middle daughter is a senior in high school this year and is definitely college-bound. To say the least, we are in debt to our eyeballs and have to make some serious spending changes if I am to retire at 20 years of service as I plan to. The mere thought of staying in California longer than that gives me a case of the willies that I can't bear to even describe. This is a dream that my husband has frequently purported to share.

But now, apparently, he wants an Ultra. Not tomorrow, not in a year, not when we are retired and have time to actually DO the touring the bike is made for. Now.

So, I tried to approach the situation as Dr. Laura would have me do: talking about the situation equal-to-equal, presenting the pros and cons and discussing each one thoroughly, prefacing any opinion with the caveat that it is an opinion and not a directive. I did this assuming that approaching the situation this way would allow him to come to his own conclusion, as husband and father, that buying a $30,000 motorcycle at this point in time would be deterimental to the family and to our long-term goals.

And I felt pretty good about it. We seemed to have come to an accord! So, I hopped in the car to take my daughter to a job interview, feeling as though doom had just been narrowly avoided.

While I waited in the mall for my daughter to be finished, my cell phone rang. It was my husband, at the Harley-Davidson dealership, advising me that our bank had just pre-approved him for the loan and he was buying the Ultra.

Did I already welcome you to my relapse? Good! Because by now you've probably already figured out that I LOST MY FREAKIN' MIND when I got that call. And I can state with utter certainty that nothing that came out of my mouth could have been mistaken for empowerment, valuation, appreciation, or applause for sexual prowess and proficiency.

Of course, all of that just rolled right off of him and he's floating around the house like the self-satisfied man that Dr. Laura would want him to be. Why not? He's got an Ultra!

Thank You, Dreamworks and Mr. Spielberg

... for bringing the Transformers to life. If someone asked me, I wouldn't be able to retell one single line of dialogue... but I was moved to tears by the machines and the years of loving work (not to mention miles of code) that allowed them to be just what I always imagined and as profoundly awesome as they should be. Very rarely can I say I've spent $8 to be so truly gratified.

>

My Enemy, My Friend

I write this today because I promised that I would... and I do it with no little humility and shame. I would like to say that the worst of the emotions that I am feeling are sparked by the fact that they have been brought to the forefront by my talk-radio nemesis, Dr. Laura Schlessinger, but I cannot. It's a source of unearthly chagrin that it was she who has given me my wake-up call, but that's something I'll have to live with. The source of my shame and embarrassment is that she is RIGHT (within certain parameters) and that the truth she's offered to me is so simple and obvious (and even part of my own personal philosophy) that I kick myself for not seeing myself, sooner, and without the prompting by someone who normally enrages me beyond reason.

I've just finished reading The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands, a book I would have never even considered reading, much less buying, without the endorsement and high recommendation of a friend who felt that women in general and myself in particular would benefit from some of the observations included therein.

Yes, I am that wife who speaks to her husband with disdain. Yes, I am that wife who bashes her husband to her friends and humiliates him in public. Yes, I am that wife who nags and who looks with an overly critical eye at the efforts my husband makes to help me. Yes, I am that wife who has completely emasculated her husband by failing to offer him the things that he needs in my efforts to maintain, and ultimately control, the household. Yes, I am that wife who, as a victim of pervasive post-modern feminism, has viewed catering to my husband's needs as a relinquishment of power and as a statement of "entitled" reciprocal egoism. Yes, I am that wife who has ignored my husband's simple physical needs because I'm "too tired," "not in the mood," or because "he doesn't meet my emotional needs."

Yes, I am that wife. And as a strong advocate of the differences between men and women and a staunch dissenter to modern and post-modern feminism (apparently only where other people are concerned!), I am ashamed. As a firm believer in the civilizing power of the female in our society and the inherent control women have in interpersonal relationships, I am horribly embarrassed to have not seen this alarming trend of misuse of power in my own life. As a spiritual supporter of the theory that human beings choose their own realities, I offer in consuming humility my realization - brought to life by the written observations of a person whom I have heretofore not respected at all - that I have voluntarily relinquished the domain which I have purported to be my reason for living without even knowing I had abdicated.

When I said I tried, I didn't. When I said I would do anything to save my family, I left out the part where I would protect the needs of my husband as an integral part of that family. When I complained that my emotional needs weren't being met in my marriage, I did so without fully taking into account the fact that I was holding my husband responsible for that failure, when sole culpability resides only with me. I offer the fact that I was badly trained, not as an excuse, but as a prelude to my recent realization that I am smart enough to recognize poor training in other arenas of my life and am bereft at the knowledge that I not only accepted my bad training but RELIED on it as the self-centered yardstick of "how things should be in a marriage." My blithe acceptance of this training as an excuse to fail as a wife is the main source of my disappointment in myself. I'm supposed to be this big genius - how the hell did the false logic of this escape me for so long?

Because I wanted it to, that's why. Because I wanted to blame my failings on anyone but myself. Because I wanted to be lauded as Queen of this Domicile without exercising any honorable reign at all. Because I thought that my way is the only way and because I failed to accept my husband as the man he is and in turn, transformed him into something that is afraid, powerless, and still trying to conform to my endless and ridiculous demands.

So, thank you RT. And though it pains me to say it, thank you Dr. Laura.

My bold advent into saving my family has already begun. I will post updates as they occur!