Man Q; terrifying article/situation

While grilling a pizza and helping Elia finish packing, we turned on the Saints-Seahawks game. The second half was fabulously exciting, and though I love the Saints and am sad they lost, A) the Seahawks deserved the win, and B) way to NEVER give up, NOLA. The 52 yard interception, onside kick, and long pass towards the end had me jumping and screaming. J was having trouble getting to sleep so watched the last ten minutes with me. Listening to my broadcast from the couch, you'd have thought I was a pro player in a former life. Who knew?! I did make it clear to J that while I think football is an awesome and often thrilling game, it was not one he or Ol would likely ever play. I don't need to have worked this damn hard for them to get their brains all bruised and shit and go to seed. Fuhgetaboutit! Question: why when a football player, for ex: Marshawn Lynch, makes an incredible play, everyone supports and cheers for him by punching and slapping him?? He got hit and slapped and whooped so many damn times upon leaving the field that I felt bruised. I don't get this part of manhood. Why all the hitting?!

In the midst of all this I came across this heart-wrenching, terrifying article about American Day Care that a friend posted on FB. If you're not a parent who has looked into childcare options for your kids and thus already been appalled by much of what's out there -and at what cost!!- read this and be moved and/or scared. I find it in.ex.cusable that so many of our politicians and citizenry go on and on and on about how abortion is an indefensible outrage -when nearly HALF of pregnancies in America are UNintended- yet refuse to support, fund and make damn sure to regulate and police the childcare centers many, many parents must rely on. Many parents, who in some ways and/or on some occasions had to have their children, cannot stay at home with their kids; they have to work and too often at below-minimum wage jobs and so MUST take whatever childcare is available to them. To leave them at the mercy of unregulated child "care" seems like an evil hard to describe. And don't even get me started on the public "education" that then awaits many of these children.

Meanwhile, on a related front, a terrific article by Charles Blow. sex is not our problem

John Beale, dinner

Have you seen the insanely unbelievable YET true story about John Beale? The complete charlatan EPA official who requested first travel airfare, a special parking space for malaria contracted in Vietnam (he's never been there), and complete pay despite not showing up to work for years because he was a "covert CIA operative." You must watch these clips from The Daily Show which includes the bit from Beale's congressional hearing that will leave you literally incredulous with mouth agape.

Un.real!

Before watching Jon regale us with this lunacy, T and I made dinner together: chicken with lemon and olives; couscous; and roasted Brussels sprouts. Fab-o. Tomorrow we're having spaghetti and meatballs with his parents and celebrating an early Christmas with them, and then Saturday, off we go to Louisiana.

www.em-i-lis.com

www.em-i-lis.com

Political nonsense, pasta, kale, writing...

Only 23 District Court nominees have been filibustered in the history of our country, and 20 of those have been since Obama took office. Who sees the tectonic shift there? Just sayin. Glad the filibuster rule has been changed. To what a majority really is. Which is not a "super-majority."

In food words, I was uninspired tonight. Tuckered out to beat sixty. Slayed by verbiage and retellings and all sorts of lexical onslaught. I'm utterly serious. My respite today was a wonderful conference call with my writing group. They are such an exceptional bunch of women, and I feel repeatedly grateful to have met them. Before and after that 75 minutes, however? =CRAZYtown talking. So by dinnertime, I could do nothing more than pour a glass of wine and stare blankly into an open fridge. When I was too chilled to hold the door open any longer, I swung it shut and simply stood.

A memory of glorious golden Roma tomato sauce awoke in the deepest recesses of my mind, and I ambled out to my garage chest freezer to locate the stash. Aah!! Some pappardelle here, a kale salad there. Dinner was served.

www.em-i-lis.com