I am disgusted with the state of the union.
As a Cuban refugee and a citizen of the United States, I have always been grateful to this land we call home.
Rather, than banter about, I suggest this viewing sent to me by a fellow Cuban/American.
It takes about 5 minutes to watch.

http://www.truthout.org/multimedia.htm

MY LEFT FOOT

Yesterday was a regular day.

I woke up, had my morning Cuban coffee and proceeded to work from home. I went for my usual run around noon.
To Hamilton Park, nothing unusual about that. I like this run, it's like a Village Voice tour of downtown Jersey City.
Strolling, running or jogging down Jersey Avenue you get to see the newly opened shops, cafes, renovated homes,
and my favorite: the corner Pentecostal Church which I secretly think I will buy someday.

The air was crisp, and the day cloudy, kind of a regular October day. Newark Avenue had its share of commercial traffic,
but all was uneventful. I did 2 laps around the park, this might be a mile and half. On the 3rd lap, I was sprinting hard,
('cause I don't want to turn into one of those flabby joggers) when out of nowhere a seemingly innocent pine cone--
ya know, one of those that fall from any of those evergreens, appeared right in my left foot's sprinting path.
The left foot did not see it. The left foot landed on the pine cone, the left foot's ankle twisted into a pretzel, the left foot
recovered as it walked it off, quite painfully, but proud of its quick recovery.

Ahh, but the recovery was short lived. About an hour and a half later, showered, and dressed, ready to begin all my errands,
my left foot began to throb. I ignored my left foot, thinking that it would go away. I got in the car and went to get gas.
Right about then, my left foot refused to be ignored. It started throbbing so hard that I felt like crying. What does a grown woman do when she cries? She calls her mother and tells on her left foot.

Sobbing hysterically, and with Mom in the car, I drove myself to my brother-in-law, the doctor, who, said he could see me.
My brother-in-law , the doctor's office is in the heart of Union City. Right across the street from the police station. I double parked in front of the doctor's office. A very compassionate police officer put on his wailing siren and told me to move.
Annoyed to no end, I drove around the block and found a spot. I realized I would have to hop or crawl all the way
to the doctor's office. I figured I could possibly start a new trend: The Union City bunny hop. Ready to be the fabulous
fashionista that I am, with tears streaming down my face, I was redeemed by the other kind of police officer, the kind
who actually has electrons that wire the brain/heart connection.

So, I double parked in front of the doctor's office and hobbled inside. That's when the hysterics started. That's when my left foot demanded all the attention it deserved. The usual took place: my brother in law tried very hard to make me laugh and forget about the pain, prescribed crutches, an ankle brace and x-rays. (My brother in law is a very cool person)
And that's pretty much how it went. The left foot was driven to get x-rays and had his sexy little mug photographed in soft tones of x-rays hues.

The left foot is feeling better today, although looking a little ragged. A little swollen, a little bruised.

Me, I think I'll abandon running for crutches, if only for now.

On all things technology and why it takes a man to figure out how to remove the back of a phone handset...

Call me clumsy if you will.

I run, take pilates, and can dance all with pretty good rhythm. So, I'm not entirely uncoordinated.
I'm also pretty strong considering my size.

However, lately, there are some things that just ellude me and frustrate me to no end.

A case in point. I've just installed Vonage (I'm not getting paid for this by the way) in an effort to cut
down on my ridiculous cell phone bill since I've left the full time job.
The installation was pretty simple, since I'm not color blind. (Match the yellow cable to the yellow port, etc.)
What was complicated was the simplest and yet mos elusive
task of all: sliding down on the back of the new phone handset and installing the battery. Why does this
have to be so difficult? Why is it designed for an expert chef's wrist action...or the quickness of a bricklayer?
And why does this have to happen just when you're feeling like you're independent and can install your
own Vonage device without anyone else's assistance?....

All's well that ends well.
Both computer and phone seem to be working together.
Teamwork, what a concept!
Best of all, I can't wait to get on the phone without worrying about those cell gouging daytime minutes.
But, it will have to wait for a rainy day!!!

The World of Freelancing , America's New Economy and what I learned on my Summer Vacation

Welcome to my world. Layed off just a little over a month ago from the closest to job security in advertising as you were ever likely to get. The people I worked with were even nice. No need to worry about the proverbial advertising/mafia knife in the back. Scratches and near misses were acceptable, but, rarely the former. So.. what happens?

I"m terminated...yes, that's what it's called. Just like that. Not like Kafka's Metamorphosis, That's big. This is small.
And.. you have to deal with the smallness of severance, and unemployment insurance and polishing up your resumé, and starting all over again.

So, what does the fabulous me do? I take a vacation. Yes, I take a vacation. To Spain. To discover my Galician roots. I take my mother (who knows all about being Galician without ever being there) -- but that's another post. I invite my sister. This is utter suicide. It could have been. But, it wasn't. It was AMAZING. The place was wonderful, (even with the crazy fires) and my family: the one I took and the one I discovered were wondeful. I'll post pics.
Discovery is a wonderful thing, it converts old prejudices into wonderful new insights and new ones, well, the new ones are just new.

Santiago de Compostela, for those not in the know, is a wonderful little city. It's probably second to Jerusalem in pilgrimages.
It's interesting, because the pilgrimages tie in the pageantry and history of the Catholic religion with Celtic traditions and all kinds of crazy lore. It's for the faithful, but, also for the athletic. Particularly for the fervently athletic. People can hike, walk or bike from several different paths to Santiago. What do they do once they arrrive? They go to mass at the Cathedral. At a strategic point towards the end of the Mass -- several of the attendant priests help to maneuver the very old and large "botafumeiro"--(this is an incense burner) so that it effectively begins to swing from one end of the vaulted cruciform to the other. This is the best show in town. Originally, (and now as well) this served to clean the air from the pilgrims' foul smelling odors . Nowadays, deodorants, notwithstanding, it still helps. Remember, they've hiked and biked for miles. Yes, some are in great shape and even handsome, but, they have not showered yet.

Aside from the Mass, if one is inclined and a believer (in any faith, really) one prays. I prayed for work. My mother prayed
for me to get work. My cell phone rang. They were calling from New York. I had an interview. I had an interview for a freelance job. And there you have it.

Now, I'm in the throes of it. I'm experienced, yes, I'm fabulous, yes. Before, however, I had a support team. Here I'm my own one (wo)man band and figuring out what programs I have or have not installed on my Power Book G4. Dealing with the expectations of a smaller agency culture and adapting to new environments on the fly.
Forgetting about the match in the 401K and health insurance.... Oh, heck, it's called free...lance....and it's what America's working culture does.