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Jul
26
Taming the beast (or at least researching it to death)
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Earlier this morning, I thought I was going to write about how, a couple of years ago, I exchanged e-mails with staff from a media center in DC about how I could develop an interactive column. They asked me a lot of questions, I gave a lot of answers, but no one really had any answers that would get something started. I became discouraged and distracted and stopped that line of inquiry.
But, it’s hard to keep a good researcher down. And yesterday, while continuing to enrich my knowledge about blogs, I spent a lot of time around www.brewedfreshdaily.com (thank you George Nemeth and thank you John Ettorre of www.workingwithwords.blogspot.com for getting me to George Nemeth) and www.dailykos.com. It’s this last blog that reminded me that I had once wondered how a column writer could talk with his or her audience. Not that I define myself as a column writer – at least 50% of the time, I don’t. But, my idea had been to focus on a topic and provoke feedback from people who might not usually be inclined to do so.
I know this idea exposes (further exposes?) my naivete – people have to read the column, know it exists, care enough and feel composed enough or provoked enough to respond, through an easy, user-friendly, safe and perhaps anonymous method.
But now that I’m trying to tame the blogging beast, I might just try to go back to this idea. (I’m soliciting readers to tell me why I should, shouldn’t, can or can’t.)
In other news:
Thank you to whomever is reading the blog. I’ve gotten lovely, encouraging compliments and several folks have told me that they laugh at the title because they believe that I do, indeed write like I talk and that that is a good thing. I would like to single out Wendy Hoke, www.creativeink.blogspot.com, who provides me with support, information, a sense of not being alone and relief in the form of great stories and insights. Have a great vacation Wen.
Last news pieces:
As I learn more about blogging and what is acceptable as far as a link (like, all those sites that require registration and I want to send you there to read something but you have to register first? I know there’s a way to not have to register for everything, but I forget what the service is – anyone else know? Anyway – I too hate when I click on a link and I have to register before I can read it. So I’m very much not wanting to do that to readers. I promise to work on that.), I hope to expand the sites from which I gather news to pass on.
Here are a few items that struck me today:
-the heat – ugh
-a www.salon.com article about whether parents overdo it with monitoring their kids (my short answer is yes and no, depends on the age of the child, and the parent apparently, but I’m reserving judgement for a longer piece on the topic)
-another salon.com article discusses the Democratic contender, Paul Hackett, for Rob Portman’s Ohio congressional seat (2nd district); I don’t know anything about Hackett but I saw that he’s my age, a lawyer and was in Iraq and that background info grabbed my attention. Wouldn’t it be nice to change colors in that district?
-an NYT op-ed by Nicholas D. Kristoff (who I know of but don’t read regularly) about how the media should be spending at least as much time on Darfur as they are on Tom Cruise (NO argument from me here. I’ve been lobbied to pen an op-ed asking Tom Cruise to cease and desist on his diatribes about mental health interventions and stick to acting, and my response continues to be, A WASTE OF MY TIME – because I just don’t care enough about Tom Cruise, sorry, and folks who listen to Tom Cruise probably aren’t anywhere near a newspaper that would publish my op-ed about why he shouldn’t be dissing psychology.)
-this piece, also in the NYT, about the release of John Roberts’ early years in the Justice Department. Let me declare it here first: I cannot promise that my name won’t turn up in those records. I’m pretty sure it won’t, but I interned and then was employed during the same time frame in the DOJ’s Office of Public Affairs, from 1982-1984. I love to reminisce about how I went in on Sundays, worked the first IBMs and questioned Ken Starr, Rudolph Guiliani and others about their media trips to discuss the Simpson-Mazzoli immigration bill (did you know it took three swipes before it passed?).
But no, I have no recollection of John Roberts. Though I bet the woman that hired me, who had worked in the White House before she came to the DOJ and was a few years older than me knew him. She’s a serious Republican from Michigan, from a serious Michigan family, and, last I knew, she worked in Virginia Senator George Allen’s office.
BTW, I became a Democrat the summer I interned on the Hill for Congressman Bruce Morrison of Connecticut.
Have a great day and watch out for the heat.
By Jill Miller Zimon at 4:32 am July 26th, 2005 in Politics | Comments Off
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Jul
25
Division of labor
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Every morning, at 6:30am (which, on my old Sony Dream Machine LCD clock is really 6:29 because, as even my five year old commented last week, “None of the clocks are the same, Mommy”) (and the one that uses those Wheel of Fortune flipping numbers still sits in my bedroom in my parents’ house), I hear the top news story from a smooth-voiced NPR host. Sometimes, I skip the snooze because I want to hear more. Sometimes, I can’t get to the snooze fast enough because I can’t bear to hear more.
This morning, the first news story was about how four major unions will split from the AFL-CIO. Here’s the SEIU’s take, the AFL-CIO’s take and a New York Times story.
Me? I’m not sure what to think yet. I worked at Yale University in the 1980s for three years not too long after pro-union folks won an acrimonious battle to organize. The university automatically withdrew dues from my paycheck, but I never warmed to the individuals – or the group – that wooed me. They were relentless, uncompromising and never empathetic to my sincere struggle to figure out whether or not I should join. I was 23. After eighteen months, I was promoted into a management position and stopped being pursued, in that way anyway.
I know that their union did good by many people, especially in a town like New Haven, where Yale is the employer and the city was just beginning a major decline (losing commerce, losing people). The university and the union reached agreements (sometimes after strikes) that created or improved conditions beneficial to all workers. My problem came with the abolition of merit pay increases and other benefits that accrue on an individual basis. I’m not a Star Trek aficionado, but if the Borg had existed back then, I might have used it as a euphemism.
On the other hand, I can’t imagine a purportedly democratic, capitalist society without a labor movement. It’s one of the checks and balances and voice to all elements that I believe should exist. That I wasn’t as supportive as I could have been 20 years ago – I don’t know – maybe too many in my generation thought like me and have contributed to today’s schism.
Also, I didn’t move to the Midwest until 1988 and so I didn’t grow up with the labor movement being a constant factor in the economic landscape of my youth. Not that the movement didn’t exist on the East Coast, but my sense is that the presence was far more dominant here. (Do correct me where I’m wrong.)
We can’t know today what this split will produce for the future. But I’d love to hear some thoughts on others’ experiences and opinions.
By Jill Miller Zimon at 11:29 am July 25th, 2005 in Politics | Comments Off
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Jul
25
Division of labor
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Every morning, at 6:30am (which, on my old Sony Dream Machine LCD clock is really 6:29 because, as even my five year old commented last week, “None of the clocks are the same, Mommy”) (and the one that uses those Wheel of Fortune flipping numbers still sits in my bedroom in my parents’ house), I hear the top news story from a smooth-voiced NPR host. Sometimes, I skip the snooze because I want to hear more. Sometimes, I can’t get to the snooze fast enough because I can’t bear to hear more.
This morning, the first news story was about how four major unions will split from the AFL-CIO. Here’s the SEIU’s take, the AFL-CIO’s take and a New York Times story.
Me? I’m not sure what to think yet. I worked at Yale University in the 1980s for three years not too long after pro-union folks won an acrimonious battle to organize. The university automatically withdrew dues from my paycheck, but I never warmed to the individuals – or the group – that wooed me. They were relentless, uncompromising and never empathetic to my sincere struggle to figure out whether or not I should join. I was 23. After eighteen months, I was promoted into a management position and stopped being pursued, in that way anyway.
I know that their union did good by many people, especially in a town like New Haven, where Yale is the employer and the city was just beginning a major decline (losing commerce, losing people). The university and the union reached agreements (sometimes after strikes) that created or improved conditions beneficial to all workers. My problem came with the abolition of merit pay increases and other benefits that accrue on an individual basis. I’m not a Star Trek aficionado, but if the Borg had existed back then, I might have used it as a euphemism.
On the other hand, I can’t imagine a purportedly democratic, capitalist society without a labor movement. It’s one of the checks and balances and voice to all elements that I believe should exist. That I wasn’t as supportive as I could have been 20 years ago – I don’t know – maybe too many in my generation thought like me and have contributed to today’s schism.
Also, I didn’t move to the Midwest until 1988 and so I didn’t grow up with the labor movement being a constant factor in the economic landscape of my youth. Not that the movement didn’t exist on the East Coast, but my sense is that the presence was far more dominant here. (Do correct me where I’m wrong.)
We can’t know today what this split will produce for the future. But I’d love to hear some thoughts on others’ experiences and opinions.
By Jill Miller Zimon at 7:29 am July 25th, 2005 in Politics | Comments Off
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Jul
25
Division of labor
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Every morning, at 6:30am (which, on my old Sony Dream Machine LCD clock is really 6:29 because, as even my five year old commented last week, “None of the clocks are the same, Mommy”) (and the one that uses those Wheel of Fortune flipping numbers still sits in my bedroom in my parents’ house), I hear the top news story from a smooth-voiced NPR host. Sometimes, I skip the snooze because I want to hear more. Sometimes, I can’t get to the snooze fast enough because I can’t bear to hear more.
This morning, the first news story was about how four major unions will split from the AFL-CIO. Here’s the SEIU’s take, the AFL-CIO’s take and a New York Times story.
Me? I’m not sure what to think yet. I worked at Yale University in the 1980s for three years not too long after pro-union folks won an acrimonious battle to organize. The university automatically withdrew dues from my paycheck, but I never warmed to the individuals – or the group – that wooed me. They were relentless, uncompromising and never empathetic to my sincere struggle to figure out whether or not I should join. I was 23. After eighteen months, I was promoted into a management position and stopped being pursued, in that way anyway.
I know that their union did good by many people, especially in a town like New Haven, where Yale is the employer and the city was just beginning a major decline (losing commerce, losing people). The university and the union reached agreements (sometimes after strikes) that created or improved conditions beneficial to all workers. My problem came with the abolition of merit pay increases and other benefits that accrue on an individual basis. I’m not a Star Trek aficionado, but if the Borg had existed back then, I might have used it as a euphemism.
On the other hand, I can’t imagine a purportedly democratic, capitalist society without a labor movement. It’s one of the checks and balances and voice to all elements that I believe should exist. That I wasn’t as supportive as I could have been 20 years ago – I don’t know – maybe too many in my generation thought like me and have contributed to today’s schism.
Also, I didn’t move to the Midwest until 1988 and so I didn’t grow up with the labor movement being a constant factor in the economic landscape of my youth. Not that the movement didn’t exist on the East Coast, but my sense is that the presence was far more dominant here. (Do correct me where I’m wrong.)
We can’t know today what this split will produce for the future. But I’d love to hear some thoughts on others’ experiences and opinions.
By Jill Miller Zimon at 4:29 am July 25th, 2005 in Politics | Comments Off
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Jul
24
My man’s hands
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Having rejected Jewish men for years (until I lived in Israel and had few others to choose from), it’s ironic that my husband started to court me in 1990, on Kol Nidre, the evening before the Day of Atonement, also known as Yom Kippur (which I still never pronounce correctly, so I kind of say it like Steve Martin says his name in one of his comedy bits, I’m Mr. bllllhaaahheebbllle as he passes his fingers over his mouth and lips). You know – is it Yum KIP-per, like Kipper the kid animal character? or is YOM Kee-POUR?) both of which occur annually in September or October.
An older grad school classmate of ours, who passed away several years ago long before she should have, invited us, separately, to observe the high holy day with her family at their synagogue. We talked too much, got shushed by the elders and I lost a bet to my future man because he knew the length of prayers better than I did (me Reform Jew, him Conservative Jew).
We knew early on that we were meant to be, but Jeff, my husband, sealed the deal when we visited my parents for Thanksgiving that year and he completed every repairman project my mother desired. Shaving doors, replacing deadbolts, fixing windows, plumbing, electric – this boyfriend knew his tools and how to use them.
As we became an item and a more obvious life-match, I heard people say several times albeit in a variety of ways, “he fixes things? And he’s Jewish?” And I never understood what they meant – I mean, I’m not daft – I knew what they meant, but I’d never heard of this stereotype before. That Jewish men become doctors or lawyers, sure. That Jewish women’s favorite wine is I wanna go to Miami – yeah, yeah, yeah. Heard them all. I’m Jewish after all.
But I believe this naivete of mine is one of the reasons my husband went after me (although my inability to be grateful for his acumen – after 15 years together – is no longer quite as endearing, ahem): I was completely and totally unimpressed with his skills. They were nice, they were great – they were handy. But my attitude has always been, “Eh – so what – if he didn’t do, I’d do it myself, or find someone.” My issue has never been that I can’t change a lightbulb, but if someone else wants to do it, or likes to do it, or feels like a hero for doing it for me, works for me! (Let’s be clear – I don’t think this has anything to do with feminism – I’m just lazy, and I’m no dummy – I married the guy.)
I’ve tried to find back-up for this particular stereotype about Jewish men, but the only thing I’ve found is a recent column by Ayalet Waldman on the marital division of labor and some letters back to her, refuting the idea that Jewish men don’t do repairs.
Honestly, I never thought about repair work in that way and if it hadn’t been for other Jews implying that this stereotype exists, I never would have known.
So why the riff on all this?
Because it’s now nearly 2pm on a Sunday and this glorious spouse of mine (remind me I said that next time I’m disparaging him) has spent 90% of his waking hours thus far today re-wiring the house, from the basement to the third floor, so that we can give our oldest son his own computer and a new desk. Jeff is building the desk, building the hutch, replacing ungrounded outlets with grounded outlets, putting in a phone line, moving one desk to our other son’s room and on and on.
Me? I’ve just had to make a couple of meals, play Zimonoply with the other two kids and read the Sunday NYT and Plain Dealer. If you ask me, this is a sweet marriage indeed. And not bad for the kids either.
In my best imitation of a Great Neck, Long Island drawl and a stereotypical shrug of the shoulders, “What’s to complain about?”
By Jill Miller Zimon at 4:59 pm July 24th, 2005 in Politics | 2 Comments
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Jul
24
My man’s hands
Filed Under Politics | 2 Comments
Having rejected Jewish men for years (until I lived in Israel and had few others to choose from), it’s ironic that my husband started to court me in 1990, on Kol Nidre, the evening before the Day of Atonement, also known as Yom Kippur (which I still never pronounce correctly, so I kind of say it like Steve Martin says his name in one of his comedy bits, I’m Mr. bllllhaaahheebbllle as he passes his fingers over his mouth and lips). You know – is it Yum KIP-per, like Kipper the kid animal character? or is YOM Kee-POUR?) both of which occur annually in September or October.
An older grad school classmate of ours, who passed away several years ago long before she should have, invited us, separately, to observe the high holy day with her family at their synagogue. We talked too much, got shushed by the elders and I lost a bet to my future man because he knew the length of prayers better than I did (me Reform Jew, him Conservative Jew).
We knew early on that we were meant to be, but Jeff, my husband, sealed the deal when we visited my parents for Thanksgiving that year and he completed every repairman project my mother desired. Shaving doors, replacing deadbolts, fixing windows, plumbing, electric – this boyfriend knew his tools and how to use them.
As we became an item and a more obvious life-match, I heard people say several times albeit in a variety of ways, “he fixes things? And he’s Jewish?” And I never understood what they meant – I mean, I’m not daft – I knew what they meant, but I’d never heard of this stereotype before. That Jewish men become doctors or lawyers, sure. That Jewish women’s favorite wine is I wanna go to Miami – yeah, yeah, yeah. Heard them all. I’m Jewish after all.
But I believe this naivete of mine is one of the reasons my husband went after me (although my inability to be grateful for his acumen – after 15 years together – is no longer quite as endearing, ahem): I was completely and totally unimpressed with his skills. They were nice, they were great – they were handy. But my attitude has always been, “Eh – so what – if he didn’t do, I’d do it myself, or find someone.” My issue has never been that I can’t change a lightbulb, but if someone else wants to do it, or likes to do it, or feels like a hero for doing it for me, works for me! (Let’s be clear – I don’t think this has anything to do with feminism – I’m just lazy, and I’m no dummy – I married the guy.)
I’ve tried to find back-up for this particular stereotype about Jewish men, but the only thing I’ve found is a recent column by Ayalet Waldman on the marital division of labor and some letters back to her, refuting the idea that Jewish men don’t do repairs.
Honestly, I never thought about repair work in that way and if it hadn’t been for other Jews implying that this stereotype exists, I never would have known.
So why the riff on all this?
Because it’s now nearly 2pm on a Sunday and this glorious spouse of mine (remind me I said that next time I’m disparaging him) has spent 90% of his waking hours thus far today re-wiring the house, from the basement to the third floor, so that we can give our oldest son his own computer and a new desk. Jeff is building the desk, building the hutch, replacing ungrounded outlets with grounded outlets, putting in a phone line, moving one desk to our other son’s room and on and on.
Me? I’ve just had to make a couple of meals, play Zimonoply with the other two kids and read the Sunday NYT and Plain Dealer. If you ask me, this is a sweet marriage indeed. And not bad for the kids either.
In my best imitation of a Great Neck, Long Island drawl and a stereotypical shrug of the shoulders, “What’s to complain about?”
By Jill Miller Zimon at 12:59 pm July 24th, 2005 in Politics | 2 Comments
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Jul
24
My man’s hands
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Having rejected Jewish men for years (until I lived in Israel and had few others to choose from), it’s ironic that my husband started to court me in 1990, on Kol Nidre, the evening before the Day of Atonement, also known as Yom Kippur (which I still never pronounce correctly, so I kind of say it like Steve Martin says his name in one of his comedy bits, I’m Mr. bllllhaaahheebbllle as he passes his fingers over his mouth and lips). You know – is it Yum KIP-per, like Kipper the kid animal character? or is YOM Kee-POUR?) both of which occur annually in September or October.
An older grad school classmate of ours, who passed away several years ago long before she should have, invited us, separately, to observe the high holy day with her family at their synagogue. We talked too much, got shushed by the elders and I lost a bet to my future man because he knew the length of prayers better than I did (me Reform Jew, him Conservative Jew).
We knew early on that we were meant to be, but Jeff, my husband, sealed the deal when we visited my parents for Thanksgiving that year and he completed every repairman project my mother desired. Shaving doors, replacing deadbolts, fixing windows, plumbing, electric – this boyfriend knew his tools and how to use them.
As we became an item and a more obvious life-match, I heard people say several times albeit in a variety of ways, “he fixes things? And he’s Jewish?” And I never understood what they meant – I mean, I’m not daft – I knew what they meant, but I’d never heard of this stereotype before. That Jewish men become doctors or lawyers, sure. That Jewish women’s favorite wine is I wanna go to Miami – yeah, yeah, yeah. Heard them all. I’m Jewish after all.
But I believe this naivete of mine is one of the reasons my husband went after me (although my inability to be grateful for his acumen – after 15 years together – is no longer quite as endearing, ahem): I was completely and totally unimpressed with his skills. They were nice, they were great – they were handy. But my attitude has always been, “Eh – so what – if he didn’t do, I’d do it myself, or find someone.” My issue has never been that I can’t change a lightbulb, but if someone else wants to do it, or likes to do it, or feels like a hero for doing it for me, works for me! (Let’s be clear – I don’t think this has anything to do with feminism – I’m just lazy, and I’m no dummy – I married the guy.)
I’ve tried to find back-up for this particular stereotype about Jewish men, but the only thing I’ve found is a recent column by Ayalet Waldman on the marital division of labor and some letters back to her, refuting the idea that Jewish men don’t do repairs.
Honestly, I never thought about repair work in that way and if it hadn’t been for other Jews implying that this stereotype exists, I never would have known.
So why the riff on all this?
Because it’s now nearly 2pm on a Sunday and this glorious spouse of mine (remind me I said that next time I’m disparaging him) has spent 90% of his waking hours thus far today re-wiring the house, from the basement to the third floor, so that we can give our oldest son his own computer and a new desk. Jeff is building the desk, building the hutch, replacing ungrounded outlets with grounded outlets, putting in a phone line, moving one desk to our other son’s room and on and on.
Me? I’ve just had to make a couple of meals, play Zimonoply with the other two kids and read the Sunday NYT and Plain Dealer. If you ask me, this is a sweet marriage indeed. And not bad for the kids either.
In my best imitation of a Great Neck, Long Island drawl and a stereotypical shrug of the shoulders, “What’s to complain about?”
By Jill Miller Zimon at 9:59 am July 24th, 2005 in Politics | Comments Off
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Jul
23
Alien species
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During the last several hours, with some sleep in between, I’ve tried to teach myself how to blog and write code – or at least, move code – or at least delete the right code I don’t want. I’ve felt like the member of an alien species who has invaded a world to which she may never acclimate.
This feeling made me think of the animals who treat our yard as their playground. Five deer, two very cute bunnies, a large furry slow-moving rodent and several chipmunks live around and under our house, and in our trees. From my writing space, I can see them romp, stop, nibble and scurry across sunlit and shaded portions of the grass.
But when we moved here over seven years ago, my oldest son – who then was five – labeled our family “the alien species” that was invading the animals’ territory. I didn’t argue with him then and I wouldn’t argue with him now, even as my city and those around it offer solutions to thin the deer population that frankly make me recoil.
I’m not oblivious to the damage they cause. My older brother’s 1970s VW Bug got slammed by a deer in a frightening incident near Ithaca, New York. One night, a couple of years ago, a slew of sirens and red lights parked outside our house and interrupted our bedtime rituals: a deer had hit a car almost exactly in front of our house.
I’m no tree-hugger, I eat ostrich and I love shearling slippers. I giggle at the bags hung on long sticks that successfully ward off deer and keep my neighbor’s blooms beautiful. But something within me can’t accept that large wire traps and sharpshooters in the trees are the best solutions. We have to find a way to co-exist, not constantly declare death to the enemy. Is annihilation the only way for either species to acclimate to the inevitable presence of the other?
Hopefully, my acclimation to the blogosphere will be a lot less existential.
By Jill Miller Zimon at 2:19 pm July 23rd, 2005 in Politics | 3 Comments
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Jul
23
Let there be sun (originally posted 2/26/05)
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The only white outside today is the snow, and the only blue -the sky. It’s as sumptuous and intoxicating as a whiff of my children’s hair after they’ve bathed. You want to close your eyes, bask in it, inhale it and embody it.
Though not much I’ve done yet today could be considered the embodiment of a sparkling mid-winter’s day – laundry, dishes, breakfast, to and from art class, some exercise while watching Queer Eye for the Straight Guy try to turn a motorcycle mechanic into a businessman and half a bowl of tomato soup spilled on the dining room table (my soup, my spill – the worst part not being the spill, but being the fact that I had less to eat).
But the rest of the afternoon will play out nicely as my daughter and I indulge in a manicure and Starbucks, then to the craft store for an Anne of Green Gables diorama supplies run, then home to meet the babysitter (Melissa, who’s really not a sitter, she’s part of our family after almost eight years with us) and over to our neighbors for cocktails and out to dinner. What’s especially nice about the evening is that we’ve never gone out socially with either of the couples we’ll see this evening, even though we’ve lived next to them for a few years.
Lots of glitter on this day, especially in hidden places.
By Jill Miller Zimon at 1:54 pm July 23rd, 2005 in Politics | Comments Off
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Jul
23
The dental trap (originally posted 2/25/05)
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Yesterday, after rescheduling several times, the kids and I finally made it into the dentist’s chair, four of us within two hours and a lot of roundtrips between their school, art class for the youngest and the office. But we got it done and have new toothbrushes and bubblegum toothpaste stashed in drawers throughout the house now.
Today, I get my annual mammogram which actually isn’t so annual this year because I neglected to get it when I should have, several months ago, and then a year before that. Oops. And with the family history I have (mother, grandmother, paternal grandfather’s sister, her daughter and her daughter’s daughter), I can neither afford to neglect nor excuse it. So, I’m going to tennis afterwards without deodorant just to be sure nothing that shouldn’t set off the device does.
Being less than two years from the age when my mom was diagnosed makes me anxious. But having lived with the inevitability of the detection process for so long now – I’ve been getting mammograms since I was 28 – I can usually push the demons down. I also know that we don’t have any of the identified gene markers and my risk score on something called the Gale scale wasn’t high enough to qualify me for a new study that puts MRIs head to head with mammograms as far as detection procedures go.
It’s an inconvenience for now, and I hope it stays that way.
By Jill Miller Zimon at 1:52 pm July 23rd, 2005 in Politics | Comments Off
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Jul
23
Beat the bus (originally posted 2/24/05)
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I probably sounded like Dora the Explorer, but yesterday morning, when I arrived home at 11:54am, after being away for a day and a night and scurrying from that commitment which was 40 miles away back to my house, I called my husband while I was inside my car, inside my garage and, when he answered, said, “I DID IT! I DID IT!” I’d beaten the bus to the house. My kids had a half day, knew how to get into the house but I’d set the goal that I’d be back before they got there. And I did.
Tiny bubbles that keep us a float.
By Jill Miller Zimon at 1:51 pm July 23rd, 2005 in Politics | Comments Off
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Jul
23
Love and medieval torture tools (originally posted 2/22/05)
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I’d never thought it could happen, but for the last couple of weeks, I’ve been begging to get my neck clamped into traction. Somewhere between shlepping from school to school to school (youngest son’s pre-K, two older kids’ regular school and oldest child’s Hebrew school), I started to feel a strange connection between my flexed foot – as it hovered over the accelerator – and every muscle in between and up through my spine. Within two weeks, I had a knot the size of a large ice cube that radiates heat and pain no matter what I’m doing – with the possible exception of standing. So back to my favorite orthopedic specialist, Dr. Danny Leizman, I went and God bless him. I got an antiinflammatory that I’m sure won’t give me a heart attack, but even better – SIX SESSIONS IN PHYSICAL THERAPY. I love those guys. So even though I couldn’t fit in my first torture appointment until next week, I have something to look forward to in a week.
All torture should be so welcome, but I am taking a couple of actions to try and prevent the pain from recurring: I’m giving in and getting the mega-expensive desk chair and will outfit myself with headsets for all phones.
Or maybe I’ll just stop answering the phone altogether. Now there’s an idea.
By Jill Miller Zimon at 1:48 pm July 23rd, 2005 in Politics | Comments Off
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Jul
23
I’m not a journaler, not yet a blogger (originally posted 2/21/05)
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Don’t you just hate it when you know enough to know that you could do something if you put the time and mental energy into it, but it’s so much easier to pick up the phone and have tech support help you? Actually, I guess I really love it when that happens – saves me a bit a mental energy and is probably the secret to multi-tasking.
And don’t you hate it even more when you have to be the conduit between a health care service provider, the insurance company and the claims company hired by the provider? Like in a case where one of those entities messes up your information in the first place and then sends you bills over and over, compelling you to make all the calls to clear your more or less good name?
Yes, it was a wonderful time here from 9-10am. Then I called in the wrong number of reservations for my son’s birthday celebration at the orchestra (but how cool is it that an eleven year old WANTS to take his friends to the orchestra!?) and had to call them back. Then I paid some bills, tried to enter an alumni interview report for my alma mater but couldn’t find my username and password so I had to send them an email asking for the info. THEN I got to the website stuff – I’d been neglecting to update some billing information so my website designer couldn’t get in, or so I thought, but in fact she couldn’t get in because the password had changed and I’d neglected to tell her that (do you think neglect is a theme going on right now?? too much information), but calling tech support helped me realize my faux pas and now billing is updated and Beth my wonderful web designer is also updated. Thank yous to Dan, Sherry and Nick at Hostsave.com. Nick got off VERY easy – all I had to do was hear his voice, look at a paper in front of me and realize that what I thought was a 2 was really a Z. And with a last name like Zimon, you’d think I’d get that right the first time.
By Jill Miller Zimon at 1:42 pm July 23rd, 2005 in Politics | Comments Off
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Jul
23
Technorati Profile
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By Jill Miller Zimon at 12:45 pm July 23rd, 2005 in Politics | Comments Off
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Jul
23
Alien species
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During the last several hours, with some sleep in between, I’ve tried to teach myself how to blog and write code – or at least, move code – or at least delete the right code I don’t want. I’ve felt like the member of an alien species who has invaded a world to which she may never acclimate.
This feeling made me think of the animals who treat our yard as their playground. Five deer, two very cute bunnies, a large furry slow-moving rodent and several chipmunks live around and under our house, and in our trees. From my writing space, I can see them romp, stop, nibble and scurry across sunlit and shaded portions of the grass.
But when we moved here over seven years ago, my oldest son – who then was five – labeled our family “the alien species” that was invading the animals’ territory. I didn’t argue with him then and I wouldn’t argue with him now, even as my city and those around it offer solutions to thin the deer population that frankly make me recoil.
I’m not oblivious to the damage they cause. My older brother’s 1970s VW Bug got slammed by a deer in a frightening incident near Ithaca, New York. One night, a couple of years ago, a slew of sirens and red lights parked outside our house and interrupted our bedtime rituals: a deer had hit a car almost exactly in front of our house.
I’m no tree-hugger, I eat ostrich and I love shearling slippers. I giggle at the bags hung on long sticks that successfully ward off deer and keep my neighbor’s blooms beautiful. But something within me can’t accept that large wire traps and sharpshooters in the trees are the best solutions. We have to find a way to co-exist, not constantly declare death to the enemy. Is annihilation the only way for either species to acclimate to the inevitable presence of the other?
Hopefully, my acclimation to the blogosphere will be a lot less existential.
By Jill Miller Zimon at 10:19 am July 23rd, 2005 in Politics | 3 Comments
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Jul
23
Let there be sun (originally posted 2/26/05)
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The only white outside today is the snow, and the only blue -the sky. It’s as sumptuous and intoxicating as a whiff of my children’s hair after they’ve bathed. You want to close your eyes, bask in it, inhale it and embody it.
Though not much I’ve done yet today could be considered the embodiment of a sparkling mid-winter’s day – laundry, dishes, breakfast, to and from art class, some exercise while watching Queer Eye for the Straight Guy try to turn a motorcycle mechanic into a businessman and half a bowl of tomato soup spilled on the dining room table (my soup, my spill – the worst part not being the spill, but being the fact that I had less to eat).
But the rest of the afternoon will play out nicely as my daughter and I indulge in a manicure and Starbucks, then to the craft store for an Anne of Green Gables diorama supplies run, then home to meet the babysitter (Melissa, who’s really not a sitter, she’s part of our family after almost eight years with us) and over to our neighbors for cocktails and out to dinner. What’s especially nice about the evening is that we’ve never gone out socially with either of the couples we’ll see this evening, even though we’ve lived next to them for a few years.
Lots of glitter on this day, especially in hidden places.
By Jill Miller Zimon at 9:54 am July 23rd, 2005 in Politics | Comments Off
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Jul
23
The dental trap (originally posted 2/25/05)
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Yesterday, after rescheduling several times, the kids and I finally made it into the dentist’s chair, four of us within two hours and a lot of roundtrips between their school, art class for the youngest and the office. But we got it done and have new toothbrushes and bubblegum toothpaste stashed in drawers throughout the house now.
Today, I get my annual mammogram which actually isn’t so annual this year because I neglected to get it when I should have, several months ago, and then a year before that. Oops. And with the family history I have (mother, grandmother, paternal grandfather’s sister, her daughter and her daughter’s daughter), I can neither afford to neglect nor excuse it. So, I’m going to tennis afterwards without deodorant just to be sure nothing that shouldn’t set off the device does.
Being less than two years from the age when my mom was diagnosed makes me anxious. But having lived with the inevitability of the detection process for so long now – I’ve been getting mammograms since I was 28 – I can usually push the demons down. I also know that we don’t have any of the identified gene markers and my risk score on something called the Gale scale wasn’t high enough to qualify me for a new study that puts MRIs head to head with mammograms as far as detection procedures go.
It’s an inconvenience for now, and I hope it stays that way.
By Jill Miller Zimon at 9:52 am July 23rd, 2005 in Politics | 2 Comments
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Jul
23
Beat the bus (originally posted 2/24/05)
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I probably sounded like Dora the Explorer, but yesterday morning, when I arrived home at 11:54am, after being away for a day and a night and scurrying from that commitment which was 40 miles away back to my house, I called my husband while I was inside my car, inside my garage and, when he answered, said, “I DID IT! I DID IT!” I’d beaten the bus to the house. My kids had a half day, knew how to get into the house but I’d set the goal that I’d be back before they got there. And I did.
Tiny bubbles that keep us a float.
By Jill Miller Zimon at 9:51 am July 23rd, 2005 in Politics | Comments Off
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Jul
23
Love and medieval torture tools (originally posted 2/22/05)
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I’d never thought it could happen, but for the last couple of weeks, I’ve been begging to get my neck clamped into traction. Somewhere between shlepping from school to school to school (youngest son’s pre-K, two older kids’ regular school and oldest child’s Hebrew school), I started to feel a strange connection between my flexed foot – as it hovered over the accelerator – and every muscle in between and up through my spine. Within two weeks, I had a knot the size of a large ice cube that radiates heat and pain no matter what I’m doing – with the possible exception of standing. So back to my favorite orthopedic specialist, Dr. Danny Leizman, I went and God bless him. I got an antiinflammatory that I’m sure won’t give me a heart attack, but even better – SIX SESSIONS IN PHYSICAL THERAPY. I love those guys. So even though I couldn’t fit in my first torture appointment until next week, I have something to look forward to in a week.
All torture should be so welcome, but I am taking a couple of actions to try and prevent the pain from recurring: I’m giving in and getting the mega-expensive desk chair and will outfit myself with headsets for all phones.
Or maybe I’ll just stop answering the phone altogether. Now there’s an idea.
By Jill Miller Zimon at 9:48 am July 23rd, 2005 in Politics | Comments Off
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Jul
23
I’m not a journaler, not yet a blogger (originally posted 2/21/05)
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Don’t you just hate it when you know enough to know that you could do something if you put the time and mental energy into it, but it’s so much easier to pick up the phone and have tech support help you? Actually, I guess I really love it when that happens – saves me a bit a mental energy and is probably the secret to multi-tasking.
And don’t you hate it even more when you have to be the conduit between a health care service provider, the insurance company and the claims company hired by the provider? Like in a case where one of those entities messes up your information in the first place and then sends you bills over and over, compelling you to make all the calls to clear your more or less good name?
Yes, it was a wonderful time here from 9-10am. Then I called in the wrong number of reservations for my son’s birthday celebration at the orchestra (but how cool is it that an eleven year old WANTS to take his friends to the orchestra!?) and had to call them back. Then I paid some bills, tried to enter an alumni interview report for my alma mater but couldn’t find my username and password so I had to send them an email asking for the info. THEN I got to the website stuff – I’d been neglecting to update some billing information so my website designer couldn’t get in, or so I thought, but in fact she couldn’t get in because the password had changed and I’d neglected to tell her that (do you think neglect is a theme going on right now?? too much information), but calling tech support helped me realize my faux pas and now billing is updated and Beth my wonderful web designer is also updated. Thank yous to Dan, Sherry and Nick at Hostsave.com. Nick got off VERY easy – all I had to do was hear his voice, look at a paper in front of me and realize that what I thought was a 2 was really a Z. And with a last name like Zimon, you’d think I’d get that right the first time.
By Jill Miller Zimon at 9:42 am July 23rd, 2005 in Politics | Comments Off
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