The Soccer Mom Vote

I take salt with my margarita and my news

For some unexplainable reason I woke up at 4:45am on the day after Thanksgiving. There was no child next to my bed asking me to help tuck them back in after a trip to the bathroom. There was no husband "quietly" getting ready for work. There was simply me. Awake. I listened to the still house. I stared at the red glare of the clock. And then I remembered - there were stores open already. Stores with things for me to buy.

Now, if we're being honest, on Black Friday I was already nearly done with my holiday shopping. I had, however, a few things left to purchase that I thought I might find marked down at one particular store that I knew had opened at 4am. I also knew I could buy the two birthday cards I had forgotten to buy - one of which was for my husband whose birthday was, yes, that very day.

Silly me, I thought I might find Kohl's with a relatively low level of hustle and bustle. I mean really, who gets out of bed before the crack of dawn to shop? Yeah. I know. Go ahead. Laugh.

I walked into that store to find a grandmother with a sleeping child on her lap sitting where the shopping baskets and carts used to be. I found a line that ran from the row of cash registers in the front all the way around the perimeter of the store - stopping only to meet up with the end of the other line that ran around to the back of the store from the second bank of registers. I also found everything I needed - including those two birthday cards. I waited on line for 20 minutes, saved roughly $30, and paid about $70 for my purchases.

Less than an hour later my parents left the cozy confines of their house for some early morning shopping at the big bulls-eye store. It wasn't open yet, but the line ran from the front door, down the length of the store's exterior and around the corner into the dark recesses between it and the mega-shopping mecca of home improvement enthusiasts. My parents left the line to shop elsewhere in the complex - finding the crowds too deep to be able to maneuver through when they got there. They returned to the big bulls-eye 20 minutes later only to find the store was sold out of both electronics purchases they had hoped to make.

Now, I'm no economist. I'm not conducting polls. But stories like my family's and my friends' lead me to believe that sales were pretty darn good on Black Friday - and I'm not just talking discounts. I'd be hard pressed to think Black Friday was anything but "black" on the books.

And according to leading search firms quoted in the Associated Press articles about the day, I'm a good guesser:

“This was a really good start. ... There seemed to be a lot of pent-up demand,” said Bill Martin, co-founder of ShopperTrak RCT Corp., which tracks total sales at more than 50,000 retail outlets. ShopperTrak reported late Sunday that sales on Friday and Saturday combined rose 7.2 percent to $16.4 billion from the same two-day period a year ago.

Total sales on Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, rose to $10.3 billion, up 8.3 percent from the same day a year ago. Martin had expected increases no greater than 5 percent.

Meanwhile, Internet research firm comScore Inc. reported a 22 percent gain in online sales on the day after Thanksgiving compared with the same day a year ago and estimated online sales would exceed $700 million online Monday, the official kickoff to the online shopping season.

Subsequent articles on "Cyber Monday" indicate the on-line cousin of Black Friday proved equally fruitful. We, my friends, are little shopping fiends.

And all that is good. All of that lends credence to the articles we see squashed in tiny corners - unemployment numbers are down. Consumer spending is up. Despite sticker shock at the gas pump and defaulting risky loans, our economy is doing well and deep down, apparently, we know it.

Except, when you read those articles or watch those short news snippets on TV, you stop and ask yourself if we're not all tossing our wallets around in denial. Articles on the kick-off to the holiday season are high on references to "bargain hunting" and repeatedly ask the big question "Will it last?" References to October's up-tick in consumer spending is wrapped in the gloom of "it wasn't as big an increase as the months just before it - yeah, we know, it's an increase, but it's not as big."

This, friends, is why I tend to ignore the media more often than not. I get dizzy rolling my eyes all the time.

Sometimes I consider the media a toxic friend. Someone that says they are here for me - to help me make informed decisions. Someone that is only looking out for me as they illuminate the truth. Yet, the truth is these 'so-called friends' seems to yearn for the dramatic. Perhaps it's because the bad news gets them higher ratings. Perhaps there's more illusion of meat to a sour story. Or perhaps it's just habit.

I don't have that answer.

What I do know is this - as we trudge through this seemingly endless election season, as we mull the issues that may play a major role in our lives and our children's lives, as we build upon our own ideas of what is good and what is not - we need to dig past the sound bytes and the pull-quotes. We're a fast food, full-service society. . .but the truth is, when it comes to our information gathering, we can't afford to be anything but proactive and interactive.

Plain healing

One year ago today 32-year old Charlie Roberts entered a school and a nation mourned. Roberts, the son of a police officer, a father of three, a man with no record of mental illness, held school girls hostage for 40 minutes until he opened fire on them and eventually upon himself. In the wake of this unthinkable act, six people lie dead - Roberts and five girls. Five other girls were wounded - several of which still deal with the physical impact of the shooting a full year later.

As remarkable and frightening as this story is, the fact that it took place in an Amish schoolhouse rattles our sense of security even further. These pacifists, these people who strive to lead simple lives uncomplicated by all the technological and type-A driven muck we invite into our world, these people were not supposed to be touched by the violent acts we see splashed across the evening news from time to time. It was nightmarish when it happens in in our world. It was simply unfathomable to have it happen in theirs.

Yet even as they requested respectful restraint by our media cameras and the blinding glare notoriety settles on a place, they taught us all a lesson. 

You know, bad things happen to us all. Some of them worse than others, granted, but still, they're there. Someone insults us. Someone hurts us. Someone commits a crime or someone steps on our toes. We say we forgive. We want to move on - but do we always. Do we really? Do we let it go and allow ourselves to no longer be controlled by it? Do we truly allow that grievance to no longer bruise us?

Sometimes we do. And sometimes, sometimes no matter how hard we want to move past it, we hold onto that hurt. We pick at the scabs.

But not this Amish community.

Even before five daughters were buried, their families and friends reached out to the gunman's widow and children with compassion. At Robert's funeral, roughly half the mourners in attendance were Amish. They didn't go with the bitter intention of making sure the demon that destroyed their lives was truly in the ground. They went to support his family and to pay their respects to a man clearly tortured in a way no one quite knew he was before. And, as noted previously on this blog, the Amish families designated to the gunman's family a portion of the millions of dollars donated to them after the tragedy.

How many of us could bring ourselves to do the same?

I'm not sure I could.

And yet, today, as I reflect on the events of one year ago, I realize one plain and simple truth. This horrid nightmare has much to teach us - and it's not about metal detectors in school hallways or tighter gun control laws (albeit, both are worthy discussions)

In a recent statement (as reported by the Associated Press) a community spokesperson said that each day has brought pain and grief for the Amish but also a tremendous sense of gratitude and the need to share their experiences with others.

They have done just that. Sometimes directly like when they brought a comfort quilt to Blacksburg, Va for those touched by the hell unleashed by another gunman on the Virginia Tech campus. Sometimes indirectly, like tonight, as we sit and reflect upon the events of one year ago and we think not just of the horror but of remarkable grace and forgiveness.

Unjustified fear justified

I grew up just a short ride from the beach. To get to the crashing waves and white sand you simply took a short ride over the bridge to the barrier island on the other side. It's an old drawbridge. When the tall sail boats cross the bay, traffic stops, the bridge opens at it's center and the masts pass through.

There was a time when I had vivid nightmares of being on the center of that bridge when it opened. It was something I had forgotten about until the news of yesterday evening's tragedy in Minneapolis crossed my computer and TV screens.

This afternoon the Associated Press reported that this very same bridge had shown evidence of fatigue and cracks in 1990. The report also stated that those issues were repaired and the bridge began annual (as opposed to every other year) inspections in 1993. Yet some how that was not enough.

In a reactionary sense of mission, the nation's governors began a mad-dash to the inspection line this morning. We are to find comfort in knowing the people in our state houses are busy spurring inspections and drafting plans for repair. At least they urge us to find comfort in that.

Friends, I don't.

Now, don't misunderstand. It's not that I'm planning on keeping myself off any and all bridges for the rest of my natural life. I live in New Jersey. I need to cross a bridge to get almost anywhere other than my own front door. (OK, so that's a *slight* exaggeration.) I do, however, feel cynical enough to find reactionary pursuit of safety less comforting than proactive safety measures.

The same AP wire story shares this:

Nationwide, nearly 13 percent of the nation's bridges were classified as "structurally deficient" in 2004, meaning they are deteriorating, according to a report issued by the Federal Highway Administration.

Another 13 percent of bridges were classified as "functionally obsolete," meaning they are structurally sound but no longer meet transportation standards and demands.

And in 2006, 75,422 of the approximately 600,000 bridges nationwide carried a “structurally deficient” classification, with 1,160 in Minnesota alone.

And it's not just bridges. In an era where pandering for votes and pork-barreling is synonymous with politics and the unbalanced budget leans closer and closer to taboo status, procrastination becomes an easy fall back on a whole lot of things that no one is calling out too loudly for. Until, of course, the nation's eye turns full-focus on it and suddenly the priorities shift.

Of course I understand that there will always be something under funded somewhere along the way. I get that everyone has their own pet projects and there are as many agendas as there are votes to be had. I think, however, that we can all agree that having a safe infrastructure ranks up there pretty high on most people's lists.

In a way these apparently ignored deficient and obsolete structures can be metaphorical for so many other things in our nation: to dormant terrorists that were monitored more than dealt with prior to 2001, to over-stretched social security funding, to inadequate health insurance coverage for too many citizens, to the lack of affordable housing in way too many areas, to insufficient border control....to so much. Things that lie ignored or at best inadequately dealt with like spitting water out a straw at a wildfire until it becomes apparent those very things may make or break votes.

It's not a Federal thing or a state thing or a local thing - it's a plague across every level of our government and truly - it starts with us. How many topics are *we* turning an indifferent eye to because it's just not important enough right this very moment.

If we learn anything from the gnarled steel and crumbling pavement of the Interstate 35W bridge it should be that sooner or later, tomorrow becomes today. We can't afford to push the snooze button on issues that promise to hang by a thread just a little bit longer. Our children can't afford for us to do it either.

Seeing summer red

My son turned five this past weekend. Five. That's a pretty big milestone in my book. So much changes in a young life at five.

Except sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes those changes wait until six.

As a parent I was prepared to be open minded about when I sent my child off to kindergarten. I was ready to keep him in preschool one more year if we felt he wasn't quite 'ready.' We weren't looking at his birth date. We weren't looking at his ability to read or add and subtract. We were looking at how he handled the variety of school related 'things' that involve social and emotional maturity.

I assumed it was our choice to make - a choice we'd make based on recommendations from his preschool. What I wasn't prepared for was the 'helpful' input and unsolicited advice we'd get from everyone and anyone. When it comes to the topic of "redshirting" - a term borrowed from the scholastic sports world referring to keeping a child back a year to give them an 'edge' - people seem quick to make assumptions.

"Oh, a June birthday," said one mother with a knowing nod of her head. "And a boy at that. So you're holding him back right? I mean those summer boys, wow. Keeping my summer boy out a year was the best thing we ever did..."

Another mother, whose son also has a summer birthday, rolled her eyes. She had actually been advised by the preschool to consider delaying her son's entry into kindergarten a year. She was determined to send him simply based on the fact that he made the district's arbitrary cut-off date. "He'll be fine. He'll catch up," she said.

It's not that I doubt either of them, at least not exactly. I do, however, think there's a major issue with the all or nothing/face-value approach.

The National Center for Education Statistics estimates that approximately 10 percent of 5 year olds are being 'redshirted.'  The trend has spurned a rash of articles and studies - just in the last month CBS News covered it, the NY Times Magazine covered it, along with a whole host of local newspapers in both big and small markets.

What does all that mean? Well, it means that it is a hot issue for at least the one year it impacts you directly. Do you send or not?

There are a host of reasons to hold a child out the extra year. Some seemingly practical and well thought out - emtional or social readiness, for example. Others, completely arbitrary - a matter of a date on the calender, future advantage in size, percieved 'leg up'.

As I said, we had been open to waiting the extra year. Our district, currently, abides by a "five by October 1st" cut-off requirement. My son turned five on June 30th. By age alone he's eligible to attend. Our district does not require readiness screenings or evaluations - simply being of age is enough.

We watched our son closely for cues. We talked to his teachers. We observed him in other settings with his peers. We decided he was ready. The calender never came up in our conversation.

And that, to me, is the way it should be.

If you take one thing from this today - just one morsel - let it be this and let it apply across the board for you, not just school readiness. As parents we ought not ever make a decision based on some stat or some standard. Heck, whether it be for our children, for ourselves or in the voting booth, due diligence and introspection is a must.

When I put my marketing hat on, I'm sometimes called upon to order little 'give-away' items -- anything you can stick a logo on is good. The promo-item people will tell you to always order extra-large when you're giving away t-shirts. "Don't mess with sizes. Get the XL. It's pretty much a one-size fits all world, out there," one of them once told me.

And yet in reality, even with those t-shirts, it's NEVER one size fits all.

Alas says the cynic

Clearly not known for eloquence of late, Senator (and one of many Presidential hopefuls) Joe Biden shared yet another insightful gem last week. The same man who told NBCs' Brian Williams that he could have the discipline required on the world stage gave yet another sound-bite hot potato days later.

Friday at South Carolina Rep. Jim Clyburn's fish fry, a major political event for Democratic presidential candidates, C-Span captured the moment which has since hit The Politico website and then all things touched by the AP wire. Biden, in reference to the President's expected veto of the Iraq funding bill, told a South Carolina voter that Congress should "shove it down his throat."

Now, I could meander through my reasons why I'm not against the war per se. I could tell you why I think this funding bill is a bad, bad idea. I could go through a litany of different things and yet, the truth is, for me, these simple five words have nothing to do with the issue and everything to do with the current state of politics.

Once upon a time I was naive enough to think that politicians could one day play nice in the sand box together. Over time, and honestly, not that long of a time span, they've worn me down. I'm normally a nice optimistic kind of girl - except when it comes to people who earn their jobs in a voting booth. My name is Sandy and I'm a political cynic.

I used to think that politicians worked together for the better of us all. That they strove for compromise. That they could sit together and find middle ground. I used to think even when they disagreed they could do so with respect - the sort of debate I'd want my kids to learn from.

I was ignorant back then.

The truth is politics is nasty and it's self-serving. The scary thing is it's getting worse.

I do think this bill is a bad idea. Then again I also think it's pandering to a nation of drive-thru junkies - myself included. Let me be honest. I am insanely jealous of people who live/work near a Starbucks with a drive-thru because frankly, those extra minutes getting out of my car to get my Venti skim-sugar-free-vanilla latte just kill me. Modern day America is impatient. We want what we want and we want it now. No, strike that. We wanted it yesterday. Victory in Iraq is no different.

We mourn the loss of life - we all do. My heart breaks with every headline. And yet, the truth is rushing out of there is not the answer. We're skittish with the nightmares of Vietnam and we're spoiled by the video-game style war of Desert Storm. In reality the evolution of a renewed country takes time and diligence. It takes patience. It takes sacrifice.

In reality, whether you agree with the war or not, the fact is we're there and we're committed. In reality, leaving because it's hard and it's scary means every man and woman -- every child -- that has died on Iraqi soil through today did so in vain. It means running so quickly we leave the door open to all sorts of undesirables to move in before the dust of our wake settles. It means telling the world we're too frightened to really commit to the fight. Its saying we can't handle the hard road and we'll crumble if they push us hard enough, often enough.

It's dangerous to leave. It's dangerous to stay....but in reality, it's MORE dangerous to leave.

We ought not to take up permanent residence in Baghdad. We ought to have a road map to the end game -- but that map can't simply lead to the nearest emergency exit because it's politically prudent in some election year. That, to me, is exactly what men like Biden are doing - it's pandering to the polls. It's giving a sound-bite to drag out at the primaries.

To me the end-game road map ought not to have a definitive end date attached to it. It should have a series of outcome scenarios. "We leave when objective a, b and c are at x% completion." or "We leave if y happens."  I don't know what those variables are. . .but I do know that no one, not even the best military strategist can throw a dart at a calender and pick those dates with accuracy.

Yet, deep down, even with all these opinions, I'm not surprised by the poll-pulse takers. I'm not even surprised that the populous seems to reward them for it. I'm now a cynic. I see Biden's comments for what they are - a misguided attempt to say "I saw the Gallup numbers today. I know what you want and I'm going to do what it takes to give it to you."  I'm cynical enough to know it's not going to change -- and beat down enough to almost not care.

Take your tweezers to the sand

When I was in 8th grade I won a blue ribbon in the school science fair. This was huge! Not only was it a ticket to the state wide competition, but let's be honest, I'm more of a 'liberal arts' kind of girl. This was a coup!

The state fair lifted a bit of that pre-teen veil of naivete from my eyes. There I was with the hypothesis I conceived and tested next to the kid whose parents had more input on his display than he did. For the record, neither of us won the competition, but that really isn't the point.

Last year my son started tip-toeing closer to his own days of science fair participant -- he entered preschool. I figured we had time before the parental homework patrol stepped on board. I was wrong. The school hosted a big birthday bash for Frosty the Snowman. In order to properly celebrate, each student was asked to create his/her own snowman with the assistance of his/her family. Our creation looked like the swamp-monster met snow. It was unique and it was clearly child led. When hung amongst the other contributions it's uniqueness became even more evident - I stopped counting how many of those snow people were clearly made by mom and her scrapbooking supplies when I hit two dozen. The school has about 400 students in total.

The day of Frosty's party, I sat amongst a crowd of family and friend filing in and ease dropped on the conversation behind me in spite of myself. "Wow, look at that hula dancer. I thought mine was good, but that one puts me to shame...Oh, I mean ours, mine and Junior's...our snowman," said one mom. She was not the only one muttering the same dismay.

I see the same thing in my two-year-old's mom-and-me classes. "No, no, does a bunny have purple ears? No, use the pink for the inside. Bunnies have pink inside, white or brown on the outside," one mom hissed at her child today as she seized a crayon and began coloring the rabbit ears herself.

What is it these parents hope to gain by taking control for the sake of perfection?

I don't think there's much in life that can't be improved upon. Clearly, no matter how good or bad our educational system is, we can always do better. We can explore new methods. We can widen our offerings. We can tack on more days, more hours, more play, more subjects, more choice, less of any/all of the above or whatever it is we think will create better, more well rounded students.

And yet it's not enough. It can't be enough if we leave it all there for the 'system' to take control of.

I'm not advocating homeschooling, although I do think it's a great opportunity for some families. I'm talking about taking an active role in education beyond making sure our kids get on the bus in the morning. . .but falling short of doing it for them. It's not about giving the answers. It's helping children find the right tools. It's about reinforcing and complimenting, not doing it for them.

The truth is I don't want to talk about parenting meets teaching. I want to talk about responsibility - as in it's become so easy today to lay the blame at someone else's feet whilst taking the credit for ourselves. I don't doubt, for example, that the parents in the above scenarios will wonder, at some point, where the system failed the child that can't seem to effectively problem solve. It won't occur to them that taking over in the name of perfection may have handicapped their child's own growth.

It's become easy to see the big picture and ask "What can *they* do to fix it?" when we ought to break things down to "What can I do to contribute?"

Sometimes our own individual efforts are like plucking sand from a beach with a tweezer. Understandably, we become easily consumed with the fear of being overwhelmed that we step back and start demanding the back-hoe dig us out on our own behalf.

Reality, however, is that when enough people start combing the sand things start to change - feel free to call it grass roots. And, the truth is sometimes these bottom up efforts really are about influencing the top to move it's lumbering self into action to conquer what the bottom alone can not. Other times it's about sending a ripple effect into motion so that the top changes in spite of itself.

Irregardless, the point is simply this - when we begin to sit back and find the things "they" must change, our next step ought to be discovering where we can being the metamorphosis. It may be writing long, winding editorial pieces on blogs like this or it may be helping a child find their educational success through their own voice as we mentor.

That's my challenge to us all today. Take inventory of what issues mean the most to you - what changes you yearn most for. Where can *you* begin to make an impact?

Mr. Smith where are you?

I never really understood the concept of the filibuster until college. It wasn't a pariticularly well spoken professor that finally cleared things up for me. It was Jimmy Stewart. It's been roughly 14 years since the day I sat in that dimmed classroom watching what's become my favorite film: Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.

If you've never seen it, do yourself a favor, go rent it. Watch it. Marvel at the innocence of it.

Last week the campaign mud get it's first real sling. Regardless of what you think about the actual words Hollywood heavy hitter David Geffen lobed over at the Clinton camp, you've got to admit he clearly shook things up a bit. And, in typical politico-fashion, Hillary did what any good political-master would do. If you can't fight the message without looking desperate then cut the messenger off at the knees...as well as anyone else it might serve you well to dismember. And with that, Barack Obama found himself covered in mud.

Now, I don't know Sen. Clinton. I have no inside knowledge about her camp's scheming or strategizing. I am, however, a fairly savvy person who can make some pretty solid educated guesses. Here's one of them: Mrs Clinton never expected to hear the apology. She also, in the interest of not raising "Free Speech" ire, wouldn't dream of pressing the censor button too vehemently.

Instead, she relied on the knowledge that too many of today's voters form opinions based on sound bites. Obama didn't *have* to be at fault for Geffen's remarks. Heck, Geffen didn't have to be at fault for his remarks. Obama/Geffen didn't *have* to say he was sorry. Obama didn't have to distance himself from a man that may/may not have spoken some truth. All she HAD to do was ask for the apology before the evening news hit screens in living rooms across the nation. She just had to put that niggling of doubt in enough minds. "Oh, wow, did you here how mean he's gotten?!"

In the aforementioned Frank Capra film, Jefferson Smith (played by Jimmy Stewart) has been framed for corruption. He became the obvious scapegoat when he refused to compromise his principals and play nice with the "big bosses" of his states political machine. The Senate is about to hear the case against Sen. Smith and decide of his corrupt-self ought to be ousted from the seat he was recently appointed to. In an effort to delay the proceedings long enough to get exactly what he needs to make his case, Smith takes the Senate floor and starts talking. And talking. And talking. . . and talking.

I won't give away the rest, lest I ruin the surprise for someone who has paused reading this long enough to hit the rental place. I will say this - Smith's tactic would never work today. Why? Next to no one watches C-SPAN and the media wouldn't capture quite the same fervor in it's 30-sec clips as the film's media did.

However, when the gloves come off and the mud starts flying, I often think of Mr. Smith and wish. "If only someone with actual morals and integrity would run..." Yet it's deeper than that. "If only a person above the political games would run AND get elected," which brings me to my actual point.

I had to design a political campaign in college once. My candidate was nice. I mean really nice. There was no engaging in name calling. No negative attack ads. No bile spewing forth. It was all focus on a) my qualifications and b) my position on the issues that mean the most to you.

My teacher smiled sweetly at me and handed it back with a smirk creeping in. "This campaign is good only if your goal is to educate the people about the issues. It would never, however, get this guy elected. In fact, you better hope you get your message across in the first few spins around because after that, the guy is gone."

I thought she was cynical. I thought she was bitter - perhaps too many years sitting waaaayyyyy far over there on the left did her in. I just nodded, however, not interested in sparking debate that particular day.

Today, however, I know she wasn't any of those things. I was simply naive.

This isn't the first time the Geffen inspired skirmish got Soccer Mom coverage. Julie has written about it in He said/She said. This is, however, a bit of a different spin. Here's why -- the little squabble between the Dem's front runners (and the ones between the Republicans that are to come sooner or later) has less to do with *them* then it has to do with *us.*

People who have climbed enough rungs on the political ladder to be running for the top office are not naive. Rarely do they do something without weighing and measuring the impact it will have on every feasible vote. . .even if it's only amongst their inner circle. We say we're sick of the negative ads. We're sick of the mud slinging. We just want the cease fire. We want issues. We want honest, mature discussions.

And yet, they still go below the belt because it works.

Look at most recent rounds of campaigns. See when the gloves came off and the threat of scandal crept in - you can predict when it happened based on poll numbers. Did a close race suddenly become not so close? My gut says someone slung a little mud at the candidate that dropped off some. It's the same mentality that makes the custody of Anna Nicole Smith's body hotter news than anything that actually impacts our lives. It's the reason north bound traffic slows to a crawl when the accident is on the south bound side.

So, friends, here's the challenge. When we're standing with our noses pressed to the glass of scandal and we're snickering about how dirty things have gotten -- turn and walk away. Don't give it ratings. Don't give it air. Don't talk about it. Don't focus on it. Don't let it grow legs and become the story. Push back. When it no longer works - they'll no longer stoop.

The power to stop the negative ads and the mud is not about *their hands* it's about OUR hands. Take the challenge. Spread the word. Muster the masses. WE refuse to engage in negative politics any longer. If we stand strong with it...so will they.

Its beginning to look a lot like Primary Season

Psst. You. Yeah, you, the one eligible to vote in the Republican Primary. Listen, we have to talk. I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt here and assume you're not part of the 'problem' but, chances are you know someone who is. I figure if we can get on the same page we can start talking sense into the others.

First, let's get real for a minute. The way things look right now the Right is going to walk into the voting booth on The Big Day with two strikes against it right off the bat -- no hope of hitting one out of the park. (How many baseball analogies can one SoccerMom fit into one sentence? Can we tell someone is yearning for spring training?) There are those that are going to vote against anyone and anything in the Republican column simply because they've decided Bush is the devil incarnate, the war is a charade, and we've all been living in hell for the last 8 years. For the record, I am now rolling my eyes and scoffing at each of those statements. Yes. I am.

I'm not saying it's hopeless. I'm saying we have to be smart about this election. Folks, we need to ditch this idea that the platform is all that matters, no need to compromise on any issue big or small. We need to focus on finding someone who is actually electable -- and right now, it's not about pro-whatever. It's about moving to moderate. . .real moderate not just the make-pretend variety.

Let me give you an idea of what I'm talking about here. On December 19th the Washington Post ran an article talking about the hope and a prayer Rudy Giuliani might need to fly around on in order to hurdle the Primaries. The piece, written by Michael Powell and Chris Cillizza, quotes a lot of different party types. Including guys who say stuff like this:

"For us to nominate him, we have to say those issues are not really important to us [and] we care more about winning regardless of the philosophy of our candidate," GOP consultant Curt Anderson said. "I don't believe that a majority of Republican primary voters will make that choice."

And to me, that's scary. That's just handing the keys over to the other guys without even trying to keep it for yourself. Curt, this isn't the playground. It's politics. It *is* about winning. You can't do a thing about any issue important to you if you're not even on the playing field. (It's ok, go ahead and read the Post article. I'll wait. I've got to rouse up even more baseball cliches anyway.)

Oh, and because I know some of you voting in the other primary are still reading, let me assure you that we elephants are not alone in the party line problem. In fact, you've got an even scarier issue afoot, in my opinion. There are people, perhaps you know them, that are mulling a vote for a candidate (or two) simply because of gender or race. Now, I know that's not you. You clearly have an interest in real politics since you're bothering to read along the diatribes of we SoccerMoms. Yet, these "need to make a social statement" voters exist. And frankly, they scare me. It's not about what a person is -- it ought to be what he/she believes in. Want viable - vote yourself a candidate that has some substance beyond their outside appearance....and then talk it up.

All right, I'm going to assume my favorite pachyderm-lover is back having read the full text of the Post piece. So, look. I'm not telling you who to vote for (although if you've read my first post and this one closely enough you might take a decent educated guess where I'm leaning at the moment). I, frankly, am not sure I care exactly *who* you vote for in the state primary of your choosing as long as it's someone that can actually make the race competitive enough to have a legitimate chance at winning. (Unless, of course, you're a Democrat...then feel free to nominate Homer Simpson for President -- no Bush cracks, thank you.)

This is my box

When Nicole invited me to share the bits and pieces of grown-up brain left in my head, I started to mull over a wide range of topics upon which to pontificate on in my first entry. And yet, none of those 'real' political and social topics seem quite right for a debut. Perhaps it's because before you can fully understand the what of the things I say, you need to know the why - the who I am.  So instead on sharing my views on the politically correct "holiday" greetings, the uproar over the "agenda" of Happy Feet, or even more local-to-me events like police shootings in NYC, I'm going to give you the guided tour of the political box I sit in.

I registered to vote as soon as I could at 18 years old. The card says Republican.

I headed off to college with a plan. I was going to be a journalist - not just any journalist, mind you, but one with a future as a political commentator. I majored in communications. I minored in poli sci. I abandoned my aspirations the deeper entrenched I got in what being a journalist actually meant. Instead I, armed with my major and my minor, fell into marketing. I'm sure you can imagine how often I pull out all that accrued wealth of political knowledge when on the job.

There was a balance to be reached, however, between past, present and future goals. I could feed my passions as a hobby. I soaked up news. I took in talk radio and cable programming. I debated. I fumed. I even wrote a letter or two.

Then I had kids. The thing with kids, at least young kids, is they tend to sap off the bulk of my grown-up media time. I rarely see things that aren't animated during the day. I started to fall away from my news junkie habits. I'd keep a finger on current events but I was finding myself a day or two, sometimes a week, behind. It was knocking me off balance.

And then came this. A chance to reconnect with my college self in a way that fulfilled a long ago dream. I could really be that political commentator - and when the invite arrived in the box a week ago, it came without ever knowing what it was satisfying.

I am a registered Republican. Yes. I'm also a born and bred Northeastern girl. My kind of elephant is the Guliani flavor - moderate to slightly left on social issues, lock-step-and-party line on fiscal. When I head to the ballots, I am independent. I hate labels. I hate even more when people that identify so strongly with them stop thinking for themselves.

So here we are. You and I on a journey together. A tour of discovery and debate. Take a moment to say hi and introduce yourself. Visit again and again. Learn something new.  Be prodded into looking at topic a little differently perhaps than you did before. Find yourself pushed into and out of your comfort zone. Give it all back in the comments box.

Looking forward to sparing, to learning, and to growing