My parents received the following flier on their door last week. The text had been reproduced in full (with the exception of the name and place of the church).

"Calling all responsible Christians. Please meet at xxxxxxxxx Church, located at **** ************ Road, on Friday, October 30, 6:00pm for a symposium on the true meaning of Halloween and Proposition 8..."

I love how they're throwing a "symposium" on gay marriage and Halloween, as if the two are in any way related, on the Eve of Halloween. If the kids and I didn't have plans, I'd go just to be a fly on the wall. Think I could pass for a "responsible Christian"?

PZ has an interesting article on his site. It contains a map of the US, where each state is given a score based on it's public education commitment to evolutionary biology (among other things). California gets an A. This actually mildly surprises me. I guess it's because of where I live, in particular, but I see a backlash to this every day. Just this week, I had a discussion with another class-mom that illustrates this backlash.

I mentioned that I liked our middle school science teacher because she truly wants the children to understand biology. She really strives to get the kids involved in teh scientific method. This other room-mom, however, didn't take my enthusiasm for the teacher as a positive thing. She was worried. I asked why she was worried and she explained that she was glad she'd told her son, on the first day, to remember that he should "give the answer the teacher wants at school, but know in (his) heart the "real answer"".

I have to say that the discussion kind of petered out after that. I mean, what do you say from that point on that won't end up in meritless, go-nowhere back-and-forth?

Sadly, in this "A" state, that's a common sentiment in these parts. I don't get it. I suppose I don't have to.

Congratulations are in order for my friend Berlzebub and his family.

He's the proud new papa of two beautiful baby girls.

P1 and I are back from camp. Let me first say that the setting was beautiful. I love California Gold Country and this was no disappointment. The Yuba River looked so inviting. The trees and vegetation were green and dense. The history jumped out at you around every bend - culminating in P1 and I discovering one of the earliest cemeteries in northern California. I could've wandered around all day, but we had to get to the hotel room in Sac.

Our original plan was to stay with the kind folks at Quest/Ross on Saturday night. Unfortunately, P1 was (understandably) ready to be headed home. She wasn't feeling 100% and the cabin wasn't well ventilated. Next year - we're bringing fans! So sadly, we decided to head into old town Sacramento for the night. Where, one we got a cool room, a decent mattress, and a meal, she was feeling much better.

To Chris Lindstrom, thank you for putting on such an amazing camp! You asked us to think of things to do to make next year better and I have a list of things I'd like to help with. Let's get together and talk! Seriously! It was nice meeting you. OH! You can just call me about the check and we'll get that straightened.

To Terri = thank you for being P1's second mom. I heard so much about you on the way home!
To Brian = We will HAVE TO get together. Thank you for entertaining my poker shark for an evening. ;)
To Matt = You've done it! Great job! Would love to keep in contact with you.

Let's organize some central valley meet-ups for Quest!

http://picasaweb.google.com/bedellcl/Quest?authkey=Gv1sRgCL7F0tP21o-szAE#

more later..

Here are some pics I took yesterday.

I read a neat book called "The Unit", by Ninni Holmqvist. I say "neat" because it has an Orwellian, Handmaid's Tale sort of skeevy-ness about it. The book is set in the future, though not the far off future. Perhaps a generation forward. The Party (government) sets up a system in which "the dispensable" (childless women over fifty and childless men over sixty) are placed into a Reserve Bank Housing Unit. All of their needs are met (food, clothing, shopping, movies, activities, hobbies, housing, and medical). In fact, their needs are met so well that most live more affluent lives in the unit than they did outside. This is partly because the government has turned the country into a purely economically driven economy where families are, supposedly, the most precious resource. They did this to ensure that the GDP would stay on an upward trend. Mothers and fathers have to split maternity leave. There's a law stating moms must return to work and the government subsidizes child care from six months on. Those who do not have children, as I said, are dispensable. They are seen as a drain on the economy when they reach fifty, under the assumption that they won't be working much longer and have no one to care for. They go to the Unit. The Unit sounds like a pretty cool place (having all your needs met and all) until you understand the caveat. While you're being pampered and have every available comfort, you also are used for biological and medical experiments. You're also used as a donor. At any time, you might have a cornea or kidney or other organ taken. These organs are given to the "needed people" of society. Ultimately, after a few years, you make your "final donation" (heart or lungs). But, what happens when a dispensable gets pregnant (because, yes,...you can hook-up as much as you want in the Unit)? The powers that be assume women over fifty are pre-menopausal or menopausal, so this is a rare occurence. But, what if? This is what happens to the book's protagonist. I won't ruin the ending, but it's unexpected and thought provoking. I highly recommend checking this out! I don't like fiction and I blew through this in a day. Let me know what you think.

This post is in the stream of consciousness tradition (wherein I will just keep writing whatever it is that enters my head, to be refined/defined later).

I need a goal. I just need some 1-2 year event to shoot for. So, what do I do then? I want to hike. I want to get back to that person I used to be before love/marriage/family took me to mommy-town. I want to free climb El Cap and spent a day getting lost in some backwoods Sierra creek. I want to meet people on the trail and learn about them. I want this part of me back so desperately and I have very little direction as to how to make that happen.

I want to hike the AT (Appalachian Trail) in March of 2011. I need to decide how that would be physically possible and what I can do to make it happen. How can a disabled person do it? How can I afford it? What about the kids? All of these questions need answering. But, I do have enough "faith" think they are answerable.

Questions? Queries? Want to call me a whack-job and ask why? Do it here. Thanks.

During my blog black-out, I've been conversing with a lady who is set to deliver her first baby any day now. One thing that keeps coming up in our discussion is pain relief during labor. I've had four deliveries resulting in live births (as near to term as I could get). The one common thread, in four very different stories, is that labor hurts. It hurts like hell. The only difference is the manner and location of the pain.

I do know some women who've done pain free births. One such woman reads this blog (Amy) and would probably share her experience with you. Another woman named Erin had a great birth story you should read (maybe she'll pop up and share a link). I know women who've birthed just about everywhere and I hope they'll join the discussion to share what they know.

What I do know is that any religious claim to pain is bull. It's true that the most ardent fundy will claim that labor pain is a woman's duty. But, to them I ask...what about the Biblical promise to Adam. God knows that, to create another, Adam must be put through great pain. To remove the rib from Adam to make Eve, Adam will be subjected to great pain. What does God do? He puts Adam to sleep. Read that again. God puts Adam to asleep to avoid the pain of bringing forth a new human being. Where, exactly, is the religious objection to relieving pain in child birth? I say that they don't have a leg to stand on. If God exists, he/she/it certainly expects us to use our wisdom to alleviate human suffering. If he doesn't, then I expect outrage over the women who get pregnant by non-religious piety in IVF clinics all across the nation. The religious right doesn't seem to object to the interference of man in that case.

Moving along - take the meds if you want them! Don't allow a cleric wearing a dog collar (especially an unmarried cleric) tell you that your fear of pain is proof of your lack of will. Dry that out and you could fertilize a golf course.

"What To Expect", while a wonderful series, has screwed an entire generation of women into thinking that a book can adequately prepare you for what labor will be like for you. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAhahahah-ha-itty-haha! There's nothing that will prepare you for your birth. It is what is it is. Go with it.

Don't buy into the catty, b/s religious crap...
Scientology says "don't scream" or you'll imprint chaos and negativity onto the baby. Let me just roll the ole' oculars. *pause* I've seen men grunt while taking a six oz. shite on the toilet. I've seen a burly, manly-man groan when hefting a ten pound bag of lawn fertilizer up a slight incline. The truth is that humans react to pain by engaging in some noise making. Can you imagine what it would be like to watch a martial arts master blast through an I-block without his "Heeeyaaaaaaaa!"? Shoot. Go out in a blaze of glory, friend! You don't have to swear Kathy Griffin style, but a few "shits" and growls won't damn you to hell. I'd be willing to bet most people can't hoe a garden without a few oral celebrations or utterances...you think it's reasonable to pass a seven pound bundle of bone and muscle through your coocher without making a peep. Me thinks you're a bit to hard on yourself.

Don't fear the pain relief. No one is going to stand at the door to the hospital and demand a drug test before you leave. There's no special parking spot for "morphine moms" or "epidural wussies" at Baby'sRUs. Within ten minutes after birth, I'll guarantee you that no one gives two shoots about what you had to take to deal with your ordeal. They'll be too busy counting toes and asking about the consistency of meconium.

I've had the Douala's. I think they're handy. They're not healing incarnate and they're not a substitute for a husband, mate, or good friend who loves you. But, they'll do. Their sole duty is to hold you hand and cheer lead you on without actually involving Mylar and spanky pants. They move your favorite pillow and give you scalpel massages, totally understanding that that little hair on your head is a mental barrier for your baby's entrance to the world. It's okay!

You're right. Pain is generally there for a reason. That doesn't mean we accept that it needs to hand out for another eight hours to re-remind us that there's a big, wiggly barrel load of baby eyeing your snatch as it's emergency exit. I have yet to hear of a twenty year old who approaches his mom, joint in hand, who says "Yo, Madre! That teensy hit of morphine you hand when I was less than born totally primed my receptors for opiates. I remember how great it felt to be wasted AND wonder why someone was shoving my face into gazongas I'd never seen before." It just doesn't happen. It's no big deal. You'll make mistakes that really count later.

Just sleep well, great white mother. You won't be pregnant forever. :)

I swear, the best cooking I do is when I'm trying to throw something together with five minutes on the clock. I wanted some thing warm and pasta-y without getting spaghetti meetballs or whatever. So, I put some shell macaroni to boil in one pot. I chopped up some left over olives and walnuts until they resembled a cracker spread. Meanwhile, I took some bacon left over from breakfast and nuked them until they were crispy. Opened a can of artichoke hearts in crushed a few of those. Threw in two slices of provo and a little blue cheese. Mix together and enjoy! I'm in heaven. Forgot to write the spices I used: bay leaves, basil, garlic, cumin.