Short, poignant posts?

Okay, maybe I'll just try for short. Poignant is a tough call.

So, the day before yesterday we were at the Grove with my brother and niece, who are visiting from Tahiti and there was a huge line outside the Mac store. We quickly figured out that the line was for the new iPhone 3G.

Okay, maybe I'm jaded. Maybe I'm no fun. Still, all I could think was, WHY? Why wait 5 hours for a stupid phone? You could get it the next day with probably no wait at all.

Never mind the fact that the new, cheaper phone actually costs more if you do the math with the contract.

So, the reason these people were waiting must have been to be "first," just like my 3- and 5-year-old children always want to be. "Me first!!!"

I wonder what this desire of grown-ups to be "first" signifies. I mean, obviously only one person was actually "first" to get the iPhone 3G and the rest were all not "first."

Here's one blogger's take of his experience at the store.

In the context of reading and listening to A New Earth, the waiting to be first had a deeper meaning to me. What is the ego's role in the urge to wait in line and be first?

To Wii or Not to Wii

This post will prove that homeschoolers are a bad influence, especially if the all-electronic-media-is-BAD information out there has influenced you.

But before I get into that: Happy 4th of July! A day or so later. Now you're onto me. I'm behind on my blog.

We went to a BBQ that we go to every year. A very nice couple and their two little girls (6 and 9) host it. They are both Ph.D. researchers in the brain lab, where the brain surgeon does a fair share of his research. Some of the other brain surgeons occasionally attend and the sister-in-law of the wife-half is married to a neurologist as well. So it’s a brainy good time.

We always start with the whole party at the Pacific Palisades parade put on by the Palisades Americanism Parade Association (um, mouthful), which is usually a mix of so-so bands, drill teams and a few odd groups (usually some religious groups and a few community groups). My favorites are these elderly guys (I think they are called the Oompahs or something similar) who come out in short-sleeved white button downs, white boxers and black socks with what I now affectionately call “sock-spenders,” which are like little elastics on the tops of the socks that hold them up, except that they don’t always hold them up. This time they did a little drill-team-type routine. It rocked!!!

I was thinking that maybe Holly Madison on the Girls Next Door could incorporate this particular fashion option on the show along with her tube socks. Wouldn’t that be so HOT? Sex-kitten sock-spenders!!!

Just the other day, I wrote about buying real suspenders. Is this a sign from God herself? Am I supposed to buy things that suspend? Should I go into the suspending business? What does it all mean?

Oops. I digressed.

Anyhoo, after the parade, we headed to the house. We all played and ate (veggie BBQ options) endlessly until it got dark and then we watched the fireworks. They have quite a spectacular view of the fireworks from their backyard.

This time, they had a new karaoke machine and my two oldest (3 and 5) impressed everyone with their fabulous singing and the fact that they knew most of the High School Musical soundtrack, which they had memorized from listening to it in the car.

Yes, I know the truth is they might have annoyed everyone, but that’s what they get for pretending to be impressed and egging the little darlings on.

How the foray into High School Musical happened might be fodder for another post, but there it is.

Anyway, wow, I’ve REALLY digressed. I’m writing about Wii.

So, we’re going to the California Homeschool Network homeschool conference next month and random people keep mentioning this Guitar Hero competition that will happen there. I’ve been sort of ignoring this on the updates, but then they sent out a list of rehearsal songs and said they were opening a category for 5 to 7 year olds and I thought my daughter might like to do that.

So I Googled Guitar Hero and became instantly overwhelmed.

I’m apparently the last person in the entire universe to know this, but you can’t just buy Guitar Hero. You have to buy a system to play it on.

Okay, so I’ll just buy the system, I thought. But, no. It cannot be that simple. Of course, you can play it on more than one system.

So, I’m a research freak and the research began. I searched online. I asked people I know. Most of them are in the same (should I just say it?) parenting elitist intellectual Southern California crowd that I’m apparently in and had the “Oh, no, we don’t do much media. We really would rather go out and really live life,” attitude. Yes, someone actually said those exact words.

But, I’m also very influenced by the radical unschooler crowd (though I’ve said before and I’ll say again: They can be quite rude and superior themselves), which is more in the “Everything Bad is Good For You” camp. As a result, I’ve been opening my mind a bit more about media types, media limits and how so many studies apply to kids in the traditional public school or private school settings rather than my kids.

We did unschool the television, for example. We just started letting them watch as much as they wanted instead of having some predetermined amount of TV time set. I had been anal about a one-hour-a-day limit. Well, guess what. They almost never watched a full hour of television before we took the limit off and they still don’t. So limiting versus not limiting didn’t seem to make a difference and not limiting sure seems easier.

Okay, back to gaming. Our experience thus far is this. First, my daughter received a Leapster L-Max gaming system handheld thing as a gift about a year ago and didn’t really get into it. I planned to limit it, but never had to. Next, my children received a V.Smile system for Christmas this year. Again, I thought I’d have to limit it, but didn’t have to.

What do I mean by that? Well, my daughter never played on the Leapster for more than about an hour or two per week. My daughter and son play the V.Smile together occasionally, maybe once a week for about one half-hour.

Really. That’s it. I think they have so many things to do, that these things are just options to them, like any other option, just like the radical unschoolers (not all unschoolers) say. I find that fascinating. I’m not sure that this would be the case if we purchased the Wii, because it looks about a thousand times more entertaining than the Leapster or V.Smile, but we’ll see.

Anyway, I very quickly decided that the Wii was the system I’d prefer, due to all of its AI and virtual reality features. You can play as a family and there are so many get-off-your-butt games. Plus, and I personally want Wii Fit, too. That looks super cool and I so need the exercise!

The brain surgeon admitted that all he knew of the current gaming world was Halo and that he would like to have it (yes, dear, even though it is a bloody shoot-em-up game), but Halo doesn’t come on Wii.

I’m trying to be open, supportive and not controlling. I’m all about natural limits. That’s a natural limit, right?

Okay, but really, that Wii thing has so many fun things to do. I realized that I want more than just Guitar Hero and Wii Fit. I also want Rock Band and Dance Revolution, which, if anything like the arcade version, is a workout like no other: Check out this kid!



I'd also want Endless Ocean, Big Brain Academy: Wii Degree (will it make us smarter?), and my children would likely love the High School Musical one with the microphone. My daughter would also likely enjoy the Hannah Montana game, even though she doesn’t really know who that is yet. She loves to sing and dance. Oh and my mom would love a car racing one. There’s well over a hundred games. I’m so tempted.

Of course, this all comes with a hefty price tag and sort of goes against my current drive to be frugal based on the fact that as a freelancer, I choose projects based on how many hours I need to work and more spending = more projects = less time devoted to my quickly-growing children.
Plus, when would I have time to play these games? It’s a tough call.

So for now, I’ll keep asking around and doing the research. I’ll consult my family and friends. I don’t think I’ll run out and buy a Wii or Guitar Hero or any of it for now, but if we receive one as a gift (and now that I’ve mentioned it to my mother, we probably will), you probably won’t see me in the return line, either.

Toodles!

Happy Independence from Spanking Day!

I said I would write about the Biblical spanking debate so here goes.

FYI, I’m not a religious person, per se. I can’t do organized religion because I’ve never found a church that wasn’t filled with mean people. However, I’ve got years of religious training under my belt and I do know my way around the Bible, so I had to pull out some scriptures when the fanatics and I had a discussion.

I’m definitely not speaking for God. I might be into unschooling God or unchurching perhaps, though maybe I’m a Universalist Unitarian. I like the community aspect of the church experience. That’s it for the disclaimers.

I also love this anti-spanking site. He goes head-to-head with the pro-hitters (and there are a lot of them!)

So, I’ve never seen the word “spank” in any Bible I’ve ever read. Have you? I have never seen instruction that says to hit the child in the Bible, although I’ve seen some really nutty interpretations online and in books. The references I’ve read are the “spare the rod” and other guidance passages, which I believe have nothing to do with hitting children.

If people insist on using the Bible as their excuse for hitting kids, why can’t any of them pull out a Bible passage that INDUBITABLY says to hit a child?

Well, because it does not exist.

Okay, and to really throw a wrench in things, here are some scriptures from the King James version. Here, if we want to be literal, no “pop” on the rear will do…

Proverb 23:13 Withhold not correction from the child: for if thou beatest him with the rod, he shall not die.

Proverb 23:14 Thou shalt beat him with the rod, and shalt deliver his soul from hell.

So, if we take it literally, we MUST BEAT our children with THE ROD - and no worries, he will not die. Besides, if you don’t BEAT them with THE ROD, they’ll go to hell, and we certainly don’t want to add hellfire and damnation to indiscretions like touching the stove or saying “no” to mama.

If we view the Bible in parables and the rod as the wooden rod sheepherders used or as the rod being that in the scroll the pages were originally on (insert “train them up by the Word of God”), however, there is room for loving guidance that doesn’t require hitting. I think some people CHOOSE to interpret it differently because they PREFER to hit - either it is “comfortable” to them because they grew up with it (and children who were hit tend to enter into the same patterns) or it is less work for them.

Someone also implied Jesus used “situational” violence when necessary. WHAT? They had the one typical and lame example of Jesus in the temple, so I had to pull out some more scriptures. No, I don’t have 20 versions of the Bible in my house. You’ve gotta love the Internet.

Let’s all read these and ponder this: Might Jesus have made the whip thingy in case He would need it for self defense? Might He have made it as a sort of leash to lead out the oxen and sheep? Were the cords assembled to tie up the oxen? You’ll note, it doesn’t even say Jesus hit oxen.

New American Standard Bible (©1995)
And He made a scourge of cords, and drove them all out of the temple, with the sheep and the oxen; and He poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables;

King James Bible
And when he had made a scourge of small cords, he drove them all out of the temple, and the sheep, and the oxen; and poured out the changers’ money, and overthrew the tables;

American King James Version
And when he had made a whip of small cords, he drove them all out of the temple, and the sheep, and the oxen; and poured out the changers’ money, and overthrew the tables;

American Standard Version
and he made a scourge of cords, and cast all out of the temple, both the sheep and the oxen; and he poured out the changers money, and overthrew their tables;

Bible in Basic English
And he made a whip of small cords and put them all out of the Temple, with the sheep and the oxen, sending in all directions the small money of the changers and overturning their tables;

Douay-Rheims Bible
And when he had made, as it were, a scourge of little cords, he drove them all out of the temple, the sheep also and the oxen, and the money of the changers he poured out, and the tables he overthrew.

Darby Bible Translation
and, having made a scourge of cords, he cast them all out of the temple, both the sheep and the oxen; and he poured out the change of the money-changers, and overturned the tables,

English Revised Version
and he made a scourge of cords, and cast all out of the temple, both the sheep and the oxen; and he poured out the changers’ money, and overthrew their tables;

GOD’S WORD® Translation (©1995)
He made a whip from small ropes and threw everyone with their sheep and cattle out of the temple courtyard. He dumped the moneychangers’ coins and knocked over their tables.

Weymouth New Testament
So He plaited a whip of rushes, and drove all–both sheep and bullocks–out of the Temple. The small coin of the brokers He upset on the ground and overturned their tables.

Webster’s Bible Translation
And when he had made a scourge of small cords, he drove them all out of the temple, and the sheep, and the oxen; and poured out the changers’ money, and overthrew the tables;

World English Bible
He made a whip of cords, and threw all out of the temple, both the sheep and the oxen; and he poured out the changers’ money, and overthrew their tables.

Young’s Literal Translation
and having made a whip of small cords, he put all forth out of the temple, also the sheep, and the oxen; and of the money-changers he poured out the coins, and the tables he overthrew.

Nowhere does any of that say Jesus was violent. If Jesus hit or beat anyone, why doesn’t the book of John (or any book) say so?

Note also that the translation (whip, cord, scourge, etc.) is not consistent.

He did clearly overturn some tables. If we are really desperate to prove Jesus was violent, I suppose that could fit, but He might have turned them over gently, too.

I’m still waiting for someone to show me anywhere in any Bible where Jesus hit anyone, particularly children.

That’s it on spanking, for now.

Toodles!

Road Trippin!

So, I thought no one was reading the BSB blog until three people asked me why I hadn’t been updating it. Three readers in one week – I’m flabbergasted! I thought I’d give it an acronym on account of how incredibly popular it has become now that three of you read it. The “BSB blog.” Yah, I can dig it.

I even received a comment from someone I don't even know about how I ramble. That rocks! I'm a ramblin' (wo)man! Thanks, Euthymic!

By the way, I know few people who know what euthymic means and I just LOVE that she named her blog that!

It has been an eventful period. We drove to Sacramento and Idaho and then returned via Reno, only because the brain surgeon’s dad gave us a coupon for a resort there, but it turned out to be surprisingly fun for the kids. I’m not sure if we have a knack for road trips, but we did quite well with our three little ones in the MV. The trip made me appreciate my family AND my MV, which I still say is the best in its class. No, I don’t work for Toyota.

First, we briefly (and I mean BRIEFLY) visited my gorgeous cousin and her new baby in the postpartum neurotic phase at a stifling 110-degree park in Sacramento. No one came within 10 feet of that baby and we stayed at the park (plenty of germ-free air circulating so the baby wouldn’t catch the plague) – so very obviously NOT invited to bring our three little germlettes to her abode. I’m looking forward to laughing about the whole thing with my lovely cousin, who is one of my favorite people in the whole world, once her hormones get back to normal.

Then we went to Idaho, which we were both dreading, but which ended up being a perfect fun-filled time with waterskiing, inner tubing, horseback riding, ranch-handing and general fun stuff. The only little downfall was a forced trip to some ghastly hunting store to buy red suspenders for my father-in-law’s Father’s Day gift. No, I didn’t think of that myself. Who wears these?

I used to ask, “Who buys these?” too, but now I know the answer – me!

The place was like a cemetery with open wall graves displaying dead animals. Yuck. I agreed to the purchase in my attempt to be Zen and let things go, but I still haven’t let it go.

Yes, Eckhart, just flap my duck wings, I know.

On the way back, we hit Reno. The resort happened to have all sorts of fun things to do. My children won 800 tickets with just $20 dollars of tokens in their family fun center. I’ve never seen so many tickets. My eldest cried when we left, because “there is no place like this by our house!” I said, actually there is and it’s called Chuck-E-Cheese, and that it’s skeezy, but we could go (Please God, I hope they sell salad). The kids also enjoyed a round of aqua-golf and a few rounds of bowling (are they called rounds?) with their dad while I went to a $3.00 movie by myself. I saw BabyMama, which had amusing moments, but was rather predictable. I got excited when they mentioned the perils of HFCS and how unhealthy it is, which proves what a loser I am. We swam (they had very cool cabanas that I didn't get to enjoy). We ate. We had general fun.

Oh, and some guy in the Starbucks came up to me and said I look like Alanis Morissette while I was writing the Wednesday drug news. He said it was my eyes. I've had a lot of you-look-likes, but that one was just bizarre. By the way, if you're a Starbucks fan (the brain surgeon is, but I'm partial to the Coffee Bean, which is clearly superior), they just announched they're shutting 600 U.S. stores. Is this the beginning of the death of the coffee boom era or just another sign of our crashing economy?

Now we’re back in the daily grind and the brain surgeon is back to slicing heads open in the giant red-tape bureaucracy that he calls work. I just finished writing the Wednesday drug news again and I’m off to finish some editing before enjoying a little R&R with my babies.

Toodles!

Back in Babysitter Hell

Today was hectic. Back to the office with Miss M. There were way too many people there. I was desk and computer hopping. We didn’t have enough Ethernet cords or parking spaces.

It was ridiculous. Truly.

I had one interview (that IVD Technology news story) one meeting, two conference calls and one brainstorming session. In between, I ran Miss M to her afternoon program. By this, I mean I literally ran.

I had 10 minutes between meetings. I rush that poor kid. Out of the office. Down the stairs. Into the car seat. Out of the car seat. Run across the park. Sign in.

Kiss Kiss. Here’s your snack. Here's your sweater. Bye!!!

She was an hour late and would have to leave an hour early and she wasn’t at all happy about it.

I jogged back to my car, sped back to the office, did the brainstorm, then ran back to my car, back to the park, picked up Miss M – who was not eager to go to ballet and who wanted to play on the monkey bars – but…

I sped to the house so the brain surgeon could throw me the ballet gear, which I had forgotten, and so I could nurse BooBoo, which I had not forgotten, but which I literally had not a moment to do earlier. Then Miss M and I headed off to the next park for ballet with the harsh-looking-but-actually-quite-warm Russian ballet teacher.

Miss M isn’t quite up to the intense new ballet hours or the change from British to Russian ballet. She enjoys going usually, though. I did have to promise we would play on the monkey bars after class today. Also, the ballet training is getting more intense and she gets tired before the hour-and-a-half is up.

Then I came home and put the three little lovelies to bed and desperately wanted to go to sleep with them.

I thought today that I had a potential new backup babysitter. I have a friend – one of BooBoo’s friends’ mothers – who’s in entertainment and her show is done, so she only needs her nanny part time. Perfecto! I trust this family and this woman has been with them a year, so I figured it would just be a matter of a background and reference check and a few test days.

BUT, she apparently has a dog phobia. At least that’s what she said.

Or maybe she just doesn’t want to work here. She knows Carmen, so I’m sure she’s seen my crew. I admit, I’m a tough gig. I’m usually working from home (babysitters hate that) AND I have three relatively young children.

Even though I usually bring Miss M if I leave, it’s still a hard job. I know this. I do.

But really, I just don’t have the dang energy to go on the nanny hunt. I just don’t. So, I talked to the brain surgeon tonight about a plan for just toughing it out.

Since he’s on research and mostly not on call, I can work nights and he’ll handle dinner, baths and bedtime. If I’m not getting enough sleep, he’ll give me a sleep day on Saturday. When I have conference calls, I’ll head to the hospital and he (or his sister) will watch them for the duration of the calls.

If I end up with an offsite meeting, who knows what I’ll do.

As I type this, I’m remembering I already have two – maybe May 5th and 6th?

Uh oh.

As for tonight, I'm tired. I've got four news stories to finish editing and I need to finish draft 1 of a poster by tomorrow. I just want to sleep.

Overall, though, I’m really grateful.

Even with these challenges, I know I'm very lucky that I have the flexibility I do and that I can support the troops without being away from them for more than about 15 hours a week.

That means a lot of conference calls in the bathroom or out in front of the house, with a fair amount of muting and shushing, but a mama’s gotta do what a mama’s gotta do.

And really, it's a hectic life. It's a chaotic life. But it's a good life.

BooBoo's up for her nightly feeding!


Ciao!

Food Fiend

I have serious issues with food. I don’t really know why this is. I’ve tried quite hard to let go of being a controlling perfectionist when it comes to many things, but I am still stuck on the food thing.

I used to be obsessed with schedules and planning. An organized and clean house were inordinately important to me. This is one area (of many) where kids (and FlyLady) have been very good for me. Schedules are thrown out of whack in a moment’s notice. The best-laid plans are overturned in an instant. Even though I’m an expert housecleaner, I’m so outnumbered that cleanliness only happens when everyone is out of the house, but then I’m out of the house, too.

And what’s the point of the house, then?

In all honesty, every single day of the weak, several major catastrophes happen, even when I’m organized and running ahead of schedule. Someone barfs or pours a blueberry smoothie over their head or spills it on the couch, or the dog dumps over the recycling bin, or BooBoo gets glue in her hair, or the L-man puts lotion in his eye or Miss M stubs her toe and if there’s none of that, there’s always time for an unexpected blowout Poop-o-rama.

It’s the glamorous life I’m living.

But back to the food.

So, tonight the brain surgeon had a craving for some childhood concoction called kraut runtz. I cannot find this no matter how hard I Google, but, the researcher in me did find this, which appears to be about the same recipe.

Now, I know I should be grateful. The brain surgeon used veggie meat (salty and processed, but a major step up) and probably more veggies than most would. But then he bought these, which have listed as the top three ingredients:
- Enriched flour (ugh)
- Sugar (ugh)
- Partially hydrogenated vegetable oil (soybean or cottonseed)

…and pretty much nothing else.

It’s like a heart attack in a box. The brain surgeon, like most Americans, was like, “So, it has a little fat in it. It’s not that bad.”



Um, okay.

Anyway, to make the concoction, you take the dough, fill it with some hamburger and cabbage mixture and bake it.

So gross I could barely look at it – basically Hamburger Helper (I can’t even stand to link that) in a cheap roll.

But what’s worse, he bought – I dunno – 4 or 5 boxes of that crappy roll mix and then used corn oil to mix it with. He thought that might be a step up from butter or margarine and he was right there. Although corn oil has a bit more saturated fat than the better oils, it does have a decent amount of omega 6 fatty acids. Nonetheless, if you’re trying to eat a nutrient rich diet or like Dr. Fuhrman does, it doesn’t really fit in.

Okay, but when I think about it, so what? Why do I care what he eats? Really?

Part is because, as the father of my children, he has a profound influence on them. Although he is WAY WAY healthier than most people are I know, he still maintains a steady intake of processed foods.

I almost never see the brain surgeon eat raw fruits and veggies. Salads are small when they happen. He prefers his fruit canned. He drinks processed orange juice. Processed. Processed. Processed.

But his peers eat much worse than he does, so he’s ahead of the crowd and doesn’t understand why I complain.

Anyway, tonight I caused a fight because I just could not shut up. Looking at 8 huge mounds of that trash food was making my blood boil. I don’t want the kids eating that stuff. I just don’t. And they did.

But I also don’t want to fight about food. Most people do not care. Obesity, cancer, diabetes and heart disease are skyrocketing because people don’t worry about what they eat – except to lose weight.

I rather wish I didn’t care either. But when I see my precious children filling the limited space in their tiny tummies with better-than-most-crap-but-still-crap on a Thursday night, I get a little nutty.

Because it’s really hard. When he brings cookies in the house, we all want them. When he brings soft, squishy (processed beyond any shred of fiber remnants), we all have a slice.

AND I'm a hypocrite. I had Del Taco last week, no matter how I justify it.

It's just that we agreed we wouldn’t say anything at parties and support guilt-free enjoyment of cake. We agreed to limit eating out and to try to pick healthful restaurants when we do. We agreed to keep the processed crap out of the house. We agreed to set an example for the kids.

So I’m annoyed when I stand alone for his and the children’s health.

I’m such a food fiend.

Toodles.

Open House and Salary.com

Today we had our first open house. We’re selling our little slice of Los Angeles. Despite the fairly crappy real estate market, our neighborhood is a nice one and values are holding pretty well.

We could be deluding ourselves thinking we will get our price, but I believe we’ll do great.

Our place is small. It’s just about 1,000 square feet. That’s right…just 200 feet per person, if you don’t count the dog or the brain surgeon’s sister.

Plug for the sister…she’s hot and single.

Anyway, having an open house when you have three kids crammed into two bedrooms is a Herculean effort, to say the least. We spent the early part of the morning moving toys and boxes of things that normally belong in our bathrooms and such into our very-accommodating neighbor’s condo.

Then I cleaned like never before, did some amateur real estate staging, baked cookies and chilled lemonade.

And then I pretended to be my realtor, since he was out of town.

This was challenging. And not just because I’m not a studly gay male as my realtor is. It’s also tough to watch people open all the cabinets and closets while suppressing the urge to apologize profusely for the mess.

Sometimes I admitted the condominium was mine. Other times I didn’t. One time when I didn’t, the couple went on and on about how neat and organized it was for a couple with two kids. Yea me!

For this, FlyLady deserves a plug. I owe it all to her. Attention all crazed housewives: Sign up for those FlyLady emails!

I didn’t tell them what a HUGE effort it took or that there were really THREE kids. They did wonder aloud where everyone slept – I guess because the kids have a queen bed in their room. We are such co-sleepers that I honestly don’t realize it anymore.

I felt horribly dishonest about the whole thing, though. I almost want to call them and come clean. What if we meet again? What if they make an offer?

It happened by accident – as lies sometimes do – and then grew enormous – as lies often do. They asked a question about the owners and I answered in the third person. That might have been fine, but then they stayed a half hour, asking and commenting about everything under the sun. Whew.

All this while the brain surgeon and the kidlets ran around and went down to the pool.

Did I mention it was SO HOT today? I think our combo of air conditioning and cold lemonade was a hit. Now we just need some offers to prove that theory.

I do love our little place, but I must now have a yard and my own laundry facilities or I will simply perish.

On the money front, I just read this article entitled, “Brain Surgeon: Dream Job.”

Now, some of you might know that residency training is highway robbery. During the brain surgeon’s first two years of residency, I calculated his hourly earnings and he made a whopping

HOLD

YER

BREATH

(and don’t be envious now)

FIVE dollars an HOUR.

Yes, folks, you heard that right. The brain surgeon was operating on human brains for 5 bucks an hour.

Now that he’s chief, he’s almost doubled that hefty wage, but still makes less than our nanny does, and we aren’t rich so she isn’t paid as well as she deserves. All this for 4 years as a pre-med plus 4 years of med school plus over 5 years of residency thus far.

And people ask me why I work. Um, yah, the brain surgeon can support a family of 5 on this. In Los Angeles. Yah.

The only reason I don’t slap people who say doctors make too much money is because I used to BE one of those people. Really, if you are out there, you are so clueless.

Now, the only major flub in the "Dream Job: Brain Surgeon" article is that it says you have to have a minimum of 14 years of training before being legally qualified to poke inside somebody’s head, but the brain surgeon has been performing brain surgery – albeit attended – since his first year of medical school – so gifted a surgeon and social schmoozer is he.

But here’s a clue for those who don’t know better: That’s was residency is. The surgeons in training OPERATE.

My particular brain surgeon, for example, has performed over 1,000 surgeries as a neurosurgeon, and many more as a medical student.

Even I, lowly writer, had my days in the operating room back when I was a lowly medical student.

Anyway, the article on the dream job, if anything, had a touch of inspiration that I’ll share with my own beloved brain surgeon.

Because it’s tough to be a brain surgeon. Intuitively, everyone knows that, but living it – especially during residency – is another thing entirely.

The next time you have a chance, hug a brain surgeon. They need hugs. They really do.

I'm having visions of T-shirts, mugs and bumper stickers...

Toodles!

Taking his name...

Okay, so I still consider myself a feminist. There are so many definitions of the word "feminist" and the topic of "feminism" that it is hard to fit into any one box (pun intended), but I'm basically for me being able to do whatever the hell I want, despite the fact that I don't have an (attached) penis.

I didn't take the brain surgeon's last name, but that doesn't really make me a feminist.

We had a discussion at dinner about that the other night. Some of the men (more brain surgeons) in attendance said that not taking the man's name was equal to castration. WHAT? Are some people really that insecure? What does taking a man's name (and thus giving up your own) have to do with castration?

My question is, why do people care at all? I mean, take his name if you like it or want to or whatever and don't take his name if you are opposed to the tradition, prefer your own name for whatever reason, and so on. Unless you are a woman from a long matriarchal line in a matriarchal society, you probably have some man's name anyway...In fact, I'm hyphenated with my two dads' last names.

But my name was my name and I didn't really feel like getting a new one and my husband didn't care either way. We also didn't think it mattered if our family all had the same last name as we don't believe we are defined by our last name. Our family is a family either way.

In fact, my sister and I had different last names (and different fathers, but that is its own LONG post) growing up and it didn't change how we felt about each other at all...We are as close as close can be.

Back in the day (well maybe not "the" day), women were betrothed and the name was a property thing. I'm not really up to holding up that tradition, but again, I really don't see how it matters much.

I just know I would never marry a man who equated it to "castration" or one who didn't have the self-esteem to handle a woman who makes her own decisions on such things.

Thank goodness the brain surgeon I married is cool.


Toodles.