Is that a Mud Stain on Your Navy Blue Power Suit?

Not that I have a most favorite part of the election season, but this has to be my least favorite part. It's the time of year when every commercial break features countless political ads in all of their mud-slinging glory. Really, it's enough to make me turn off the tube or check out a few extra DVDs from the library. This coming from a girl who usually loves commercials...well, at least the clever ones.

You can typically gauge how close an election really is by the ruthlessness of the campaign ads. Two months out: candidates are happily showing off their good deeds and beautiful families as they saunter through the streets of their hometowns, shaking hands and kissing babies. One month out: it's easier to tell who the ad is against than who it supports; the ads feature the opposing candidate's (insert one or more) (a) lack of experience, (b) lack of morals & values, or (c) lack of aptitude. Two weeks out: the gloves are off; freeze-frame videos stop at just the right point to show the other guy's face contorted into unflattering expressions; ads reveal the opponent's affiliation with a crazed, underground midget cult that brainwashes children to play only violent re-released Atari games. Frankly, I would be ashamed to connect myself with any of these ads, but the commercials are generally followed by a voice over proudly stating, "I'm Politician Mike, and I support this message." WHAT?!?

I remember a few years back when my mom ran for Mayor of my hometown - Kokomo, Indiana. Talk about a crash-course in dirty, small-town politics. Unfortunately, the local media was responsible for backhoing most of the mud into the political catapult. But I digress... I guess the question I beg is, "Who are these guys targeting?" Because I wouldn't buy what they're selling for a penny. Maybe it's because I already know which holes I'll punch on the ballot card, but I consider it amusing that the politicos think they're really fooling anyone.

Putting the FU in Fun

There is something about dinner with friends that puts a big ol' smile on my face. Not that Marc and I don't enjoy dining out mano a womano*, but that whole "the more the merrier" thing often rings true, especially when it's a casual Friday night outing. (*yes...I made that up.) That's why I was extra happy when Marc asked me last Friday if I wanted to have dinner with our friends, John & Troy, at my very favorite Chinese restaurant.

Last spring, a church friend introduced us to Chang Fu, a hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant on the far northwest side of Indianapolis. It's not "on our way" to anywhere but one bite of those oh-so-tasty BBQ spare ribs, and I fell hook, line, and sinker. I've found that I actually crave their veggie Lo Mein, and for awhile, Marc and I became regular Sunday patrons. We typically make the trek to Chang Fu at my urging, but I know that Marc doesn't mind the 25 minute drive for their delectable General Tso's Chicken. If the good food isn't enough to keep you coming back, then the people who run the place are. Marc particularly likes the "head guy," who he says looks like a Chinese Zach Braff. Check it out sometime...you'll definitely catch the resemblance.

We got a bit of a late start last Friday, but I don't think it really detracted from John & Troy's maiden Chang Fu voyage. In fact, we closed the place down (at about 10pm). It's not a very fancy place...you order at the counter, pick a seat from five or six booths, and then they bring your food out. No fountain drinks here...just bottled drinks from the soda case. I think that most people come in for carry out, but our food would definitely be cold by the time we made it home. So, we showed the guys the ropes and then waited with bated breath for the feast to begin. When the food first arrived at the table, we all laughed about how big the portions were and how we would have to take home doggy-bags. Then we started eating, and talking, and eating more, until lo and behold all four of us became members of the Clean Plate Club. You can see visual proof of our good work below. Check out all of the plates! I'm not sure where it all went.

John eventually pointed out that the employees were packing it in for the evening, so we moved the party on over to Starbucks. I can't exactly tell you how I managed to down a caramel apple cider, but it was just the perfect treat for a brisk fall evening. My hope is that John & Troy enjoyed Chang Fu as much as Marc and I do, but at the very least, they didn't go home empty bellied.

Here's to You, Mr. "95 J 4"

Believe me, you know him. He's the guy who pulls out of the line of 27 cars who are waiting patiently into the "Right Lane Ends" lane, and then guns it at the light in order to get in front of you. He's the one who sees the humongous, flashing arrow in the construction zone indicating a closed lane, waits until the last second to merge over, and then screams at you for not letting him in. He's the one who just bought a $50,000 vehicle that obviously came without turn signals.

Yesterday, he was the jerk who (1) almost hit me when he decided he didn't need to stop before tearing out of his parking garage, and (2) pulled an illegal (and dangerous) traffic manuever to strip about 0.0083 seconds off his evening commute. Mind you, I was the car immediately behind him at the next stop light. So to him, I say, "Take that, you big bully!" Let me explain this illegal move so that you can be as incensed as I was. I was sitting at the stoplight waiting to turn left. The arrow had expired, so I was waiting for oncoming traffic to pass in order to turn safely. In addition, I work in Downtown Indianapolis where there are these people called pedestrians who like to use the crosswalks in order to make their way from one side of the street to the other. Well, Mr. 95 J 4 didn't seem to have a grasp on either safety or pedestrian foot traffic, because he pulled up behind me at the light and proceeded to turn left from behind my car, disregarding both the oncoming traffic and the people crossing the street. Obviously, I wasn't living closely enough to the edge for him, so he felt the need to just skirt on past me, while I waited my turn at the traffic light.

As I relayed the story to my husband, I started getting angry at this man for his blatant omission of any type of traffic civility. I told Marc that I was going to out this guy to everyone who reads my blog. So that's what I'm doing. Here are the specs on my bad-mannered driving nemesis: (a) He parks in the parking garage located above the bail bonds office just west of Market & Delaware Streets; (b) He is middle-aged and has brown hair [maybe a little wavy]; and (c) He drives a tan Mercedes Benz [go figure] with an Indiana license plate #95 J 4.

At first, I considered this a PSA for anyone driving in the vicinity. The more this weighs on me, though, the more I realize that my reaction to the situation had less to do with how awfully this man drove and much more to do with what his driving reflected to me. You see, whenever I see someone act like Mr. 95 J 4 did yesterday, the more alarmed I get by the undeniable increase I've seen in the "Me First" attitude of people. Maybe I'm being delusional, or maybe I'm getting more cynical as I get older. It seems to me that, generally speaking, people just don't seem to have as much care or concern for others anymore. I think about small things, like holding the door for someone; and bigger things, like driving a fuel-economy car instead of a Hummer. I realize that, while these things seem like common sense to me and to most of the people I call my friends, they just don't register with others. And I guess more than anything else, that makes me sad.

So here's to you, Mr. 95 J 4! Congratulations on the picture perfect execution of your illegal traffic maneuver. Sure, you may have nearly wiped out an innocent bystander, but at least you got to the next light...first.

So Nice to See You Again!

It's always disappointing to lose touch with good friends. At Butler, I had two best girlfriends, Amy and Lisa, who were my partners-in-crime. Lisa and I were roommates at the Theta house, and Amy lived just across the hall. It was great! Over the last few years, though, keeping connected has been more difficult. Amy lives in Madison, Indiana, while Lisa is in Crown Point. Living in Indianapolis, I'm right in the middle...an almost equidistant 2 hours from either one of them. One might think that we would reunite more, but busy schedules and growing families make it tough. So, when we received an invitation a couple of months ago to Amy's wedding, I told Marc that we had to go, even though we hadn't been in contact for so long.

We thought it was a wonderful opportunity to travel to Southern Indiana during the best part of the year, while the leaves are turning and the air is crisp. So we dropped Barkley at doggy-camp, shipped Kelso off to his grandparents' house, and headed out Saturday morning. Marc expressed some doubt at the directions I provided (thinking that they took us an entirely backwards way to Madison); and as we made our way through the rolling countryside, he even commented on how he truly believed we were seeing pieces of Indiana that he had never seen before during his 29 years living in the state. It wasn't until we hit a detour outside a tiny town named Osgood that I started to get a little worried. First we passed the road we were supposed to take for the detour. Then, once we made it onto the right road, we drove for miles before we saw any signs indicating that we were still on the right track. Finally, we managed to finagle our way through the entire detour and were rewarded with the "Golden Arches"...lunch break! Marc and I really don't eat McDonald's very often, but road trips always seem to bring out the fast-food lovers in us. The best part was when we were getting ready to leave, and every trash container was either full or the waste basket had been removed for dumping. We chased this little old lady around the restaurant until she finally slowed down long enough for us to dump our trays. When she saw us, she kindly took our garbage and said, "Y'all come back and see us again!" Marc commented on how he loved her "Southern Hospitality."

Once Marc and I finally made it to Madison, we first drove to the historic district to find the church and reception hall, lest we get lost and arrive late for the ceremony. The road leading into downtown actually has a warning sign reading, "Long, steep road ahead with hairpin turns." We were intrigued. As you can see from the pictures...they weren't lying.

Downtown Madison is a quaint little area that sits directly on the Ohio River. It is filled with antique stores and a variety of other independently owned cafes and shops. It was the perfect setting for Amy's beautiful wedding, which took place in an old Presbyterian Church. The church had amazing stained glass windows. The picture I took doesn't do them justice, but you'll get the idea.

Amy & Casey's wedding was the perfect Autumn wedding. Her bridesmaids wore chocolate brown dresses with cappucino colored sashes. The steps leading up to the church were adorned with hurricane lamps filled with potpourri that looked like dried cranberries, and the tables at the reception were scattered with "leaves" and cinnamon sticks. One of the best things about the reception was how wonderfully it smelled. It was the perfect mix of cinnamon, spice, and vanilla...the kind of smells that make you feel warm and cozy. I told Marc that I wished our house smelled like that all of the time!

The next morning, Marc and I decided to take a lap around Historic Madison to walk off our breakfast. Most of the shops were closed, but we managed to find a few shops to wander into. One shop, in particular, caught our eye due to their lovely signage. As Marc said, "Thanks for the warning!"

Finally, we stopped in to the Madison Coffee & Tea Company for a quick pick-me-up before we hit the road. (Check out Marc enjoying his chai tea...I'm not quite sure what the girl on the sidewalk is doing.) Someone at the reception confirmed Marc's suspicion that we took the longest way possible to Madison and offered and alternative route back. All things considered...it was a pretty good trip.

Rainy Day Haiku

When the storms started rolling in this morning around 3:30AM, I noticed (yet again) the direct correlation between the intensity of the storm and the stiffness in my joints. Most of you who know me well know that I have a crappy disease called Rheumatoid Arthritis. Basically, I often feel like an 28-year old woman stuck in an 88-year old woman's body. So I decided to write a haiku in honor of my creaky joints:




the storm kicks my butt
me, human barometer
arthritis be damned




Sure, it may not be Pulitzer Prize winning, but I think I'm onto something!