Emily or Chantel?

Birdie and I are slumming it as Big Guy is in Brazil, or perhaps Argentina. So while Birdie remembers to go to school and I remember to take out the trash, that's about it for responsibility. We have Emily and Chantal to worry about. Only one will capture Brad's heart, and an engagement ring, as ABC's The Bachelor prepares to wrap up its season during February sweeps month. Last Monday, Brad gave the heave-ho to our favorite Shantelle. The two of them were touring Shantelle's family funeral business. Suddenly Brad lay spread nervously on the embalming table while Shantelle waved a razor overhead. Formaldehyde, love, sharp razors and coffins make better t.v. than soulmates. With spooky girl gone, tonight Birdie switched her allegiance to Ashley. Now Ashley the dentist is gone. Brad probably envisioned himself lying helplessly in a dental chair while Ashley waved a drill overhead. Or, perhaps, he didn't want to floss. Now two lightweights are left: Emily, a widow with a young child, and rich girl Chantal. I'm pulling for Chantal. If Chantal wins, Emily won't have to explain to her daughter how she won new daddy by beating out a bunch of other Barbies in front of millions of viewers. Tthat reminds me of my other daughter Daisy. She called. I gave her the 20-second, "I'm in the middle of something important" brush-off. I didn't have a choice as Brad was preparing to dump Ashley. I felt a tiny twinge of guilt at putting The Bachelor first. I even suggested to Birdie that The Bachelor wasn't a healthy, good values show. She assured me that she recognizes that the show is ridiculous. I backed away from suggesting that she should do homework, at least during the commercials. I feared Birdie would call the show what it truly is--"a doughnut." And no way is she giving up her doughnut if I won't give up mine. And we have other things to consider, like Emily and Chantal.

You Rang?

Jeff City Finished

To clarify, Green Jacket Lady's jacket looked What Not To Wear appropriate and she probably doesn't wear it everyday. Before meeting up with the bus to Jeff City, I imagined the fervor of true believers would radiate from Planned Parenthood supporters. But no, take the riders off the bus and they are ordinary people. Put them on the bus; they remain ordinary. There was no big rally in Jeff City and no demonstration signs. Inside the capitol, we were just like other groups milling the halls, including the American Civil Liberties Union, a group representing the visually impaired and lots of elementary age schoolkids. The students were shouting, snapping photos, scarfing paperbag lunches and driving their teachers crazy. The ACLU munched on boxed Bread Co. lunches. The visually impaired and my group ate in the capitol's cramped rabbit-warren cafeteria. I saw more lawmakers dining with the masses than I thought there'd be. I quickly figured out why--Tuesday is fried chicken day. Unfortunately, I wasted my time with a donut. It was 1:30 p.m.; the donut was grim. But if it had been 8 a.m. and I downed about three donuts with a cup of black coffee, I could have rammed all sorts of legislation through--another good reason I'm not among the elected. We didn't worry the lunching legislators. Some, like state Senator John Lamping, we caught in their offices. Others, we pulled off the floor of the voting chamber. Our group leader stood at the door of the chamber, handed her card to a messenger for delivery to a specific representative. Once delivered, the representative can ignore the card or leave the chamber to meet in the hall with whomever the card belongs to. We shouted at two representatives pulled off the floor. We shouted because everyone in the hall shouted. It was the only way to be heard. That brings me back to the school kids lunching in the halls. Hidden among them are our future pregnant teens. They're the ones who need to be heard in Jeff City. If a pregnant 14-year-old asked Lamping to support legislation that requires pharamacists to dispense contraceptives and schools to include comprehensive sex education in their curriculum, Lamping might find it hard to call her "anti-life." Green Jacket Lady might not have to say anything. Perhaps, as she takes her a break from doing all the talking, she could treat Lamping and the teen to a Tuesday fried chicken lunch. And instead of fighting over the wishbone, they could share it.

Jeff City Two

Green Jacket Lady scared me. So did John Lamping. Green Jacket serves on Planned Parenthood's board of directors. Lamping ran his election campaign draped in the robes of Pro-Life and represents my district in the state senate. Green Jacket didn't ride the St. Louis bus. But she joined my group for our meeting with Lamping. Green Jacket overpowers. Lamping feels empowered. Until Green Jacket had her say, no one else in our group was given a say. Within the first minute of our meeting, Green Jacket talked about protecting Planned Parenthood and abortion. We weren't there to talk about abortion. But once the word is uttered, it hangs like an ugly cloud, making it difficult to think about anything else. Lamping listened to Green Jacket, spoke smoothly about looking for common ground, then just as smoothly, called us "anti-lifers." Green Jacket didn't like it. Lamping apologized, then called us anti-lifers again. Green Jacket let it pass. Lamping mentioned efforts to stop human trafficking in Missouri. Green Jacket nodded in agreement. Then she asked the rest of us what we wanted to talk about. With the word abortion out on the table, I don't believe anything I said about the contraception and sex education bills proposed in the House mattered to Lamping. He noted that pro-lifers put him in office. I left wondering if Lamping understood serving as a senator means representing everyone in the district, not just those who like him. I left disappointed with Green Jacket. If she had ridden the bus from St. Louis, she would have known what we were there to talk about. Perhaps she would have known our names, or maybe even let us talk first. We had points to make. We had common ground to cover. No one wants pregnant teenagers. But the abortion word, so quickly said, gets in the way and defines the conversation. Tomorrow, more stuff.

The Bus To Jeff City

I rode the Planned Parenthood/Faith Aloud bus to Jeff City yesterday. It was my first time to wander the halls of Missouri's state capitol building in search of legislators to encourage them to preserve access to contraceptives. One bill lurking in committee proposes to protect pharmacists who refuse to fill legally written prescriptions. Another would allow hospital emergency rooms to skip advising rape victims on how to obtain emergency contraception. A proposed bill of a different flavor provides for extensive, comprehensive sex education and require pharmacists to honor prescriptions, including those for emergency contraception. To clarify, emergency contraception is not an "abortion pill." And "abortion pills" aren't available or dispensed by pharmacists in Missouri.  My group met with individual freshmen Republican legislators. With only five weeks on the job, they had heard of Planned Parenthood but not Faith Aloud, and none were familiar with the three specific bills we were talking about--which meant they were a lot like me. I hadn't heard of Faith Aloud until I stepped on the bus. And, while I know Missouri is crazy conservative, I didn't know about the specific bills under consideration. Not that these legislators would couple crazy with conservative to describe our state. They'd probably go with a more feel good Republican description of Missouri, such as a right-minded conservative state. But I digress. Regardless of if the legislators represent the "right-minded" or the "crazy," I found them to be decent people wading their way through their first legislative session. Most scratched down the bill numbers and said they intended to talk to each bill's sponsor to learn more about their thinking. They all shook our hands and thanked us for stopping by. But reality surrounded my day. These are first time legislators crammed into tiny, bottom of the pecking order offices. Some admit their hearts belong to other issues like toads and bridges. As newbies, they will likely look to their party leaders for guidance, which is what I would do if I were in their squeaky new shoes. That's probably why it is good for everyone that I'm not an elected official. I wouldn't be any better than most newbies at remembering to represent everyone in my district, not just my fans. Tomorrow, more about Jeff City, the bus ride, State Sen. John Lamping, the Green Jacket Lady, other groups wandering the halls and donuts.

Two All-Beef Patties, Special Sauce, Lettuce, Cheese

Fast on the heels of our White Castle Valentine's date, Big Guy and I dined at McDonalds. We traded in our Saturday night Blues hockey tickets for free Big Macs. While the company was the best part of the date, dinner was a close second--sinfully salted fries, achingly sweet iced tea and a Big Mac that was, well, "A Big Mac." I was 16 years old when I ate my first Big Mac. I remember how the special sauce transformed the burger into a wonderful, pickle-sweet with a touch of tart taste sensation. And I marveled at the size of the Big Mac, to think that McDonalds served a burger so large that it came with two hamburger patties and an extra bun piece sandwiched in the middle. Eating the first Big Mac was as I believe McDonalds intended, a messy experience replete with dribbles of shredded lettuce and sesame seeds. Since that first Big Mac experience, I haven't eaten a huge number of the fancy burgers. My eyes and taste buds strayed to other emerging delights like Burger King's double cheeseburger and Hardee's curly fries. Then my waistline strayed, taking some of the fun and frequency out of fast food. But only some. I still indulge, most often with a quick hamburger and iced tea delivered at the McDonalds drive-thru. It's cheap, it satisfies and it kills any tendency toward hunger-fueled road rage. Last night's Big Mac was something altogether special. It was the evening, the company and the simplicity. It was a lot like my first Big Mac.

Unnatural Green