Health Care: An Oxymoron and other Things That Are Pissing Me Off Today

And my love affair with Ms. Moon continues . . .

Speaking of the oxymoron, I'm again at Barnes and Noble today trying desperately not to listen to the wingnuts. And again, I'm failing. But I think I did find one of the people that Ms. Moon is asking for. She's at the table behind me, well now she's in front of me because I had to turn around to look at her. She has just made a phone call to a doctor's office to set up a consultation for a "mini facelift." I wonder what that means. Does she have a small face? Does she imagine that gravity has done her less a disservice than others? What I'm sure of is that "mini" has nothing to do with what she will be paying for it.

Whenever I think of people having voluntary surgery, I can't help but think, "I wonder how much that is going to cost. I wonder how many flocks of chickens that would buy. I wonder how many pairs of shoes that would buy. How many vaccines? How many school books? How many mosquito nets?" I hate to be judgemental, I swear I do. But the frivolity and arrogance of many Americans really gets my blood boiling.

I wonder if this woman here, Kathy with a K, has thought about the mosquito nets. And if so, how did she decide that her neck flab was more offensive than the wholly preventable death of a child? How? And if she hasn't thought about the shoes, I say to you "How didn't she?" I find it absolutely impossible to buy anything for myself without thinking about other mothers who cannot. And I'm only buying $19.99 Crocs that are on clearance! How did she buy that Polo shirt and those designer jeans and those snazzy leather flats? My guilt would be crippling if I was shuffling around in those things.

Maybe she is a generous soul. Maybe this neck shrinking is her gift to herself after all the good things she's done this summer. Maybe she just returned from Africa or the 9th Ward or Guatemala. Maybe she has been busy nursing the sick and clothing the poor and shoeing the unshod. She must feel great, really thankful. She has earned this little indulgence, right?

If all of that is true, then she must be well aware of how far a little money will go in these impoverished places. She knows what the Dollar can buy. She knows the difference that the 9 cent vaccine makes in the jungles. But she did good work. The village that she just returned from is a better place now, healthier and cleaner and safer.

But what about the village around the bend? And the one around the next bend? And the child that was 101st on the list of folks to receive the 100 vaccines that she brought with her?

I have to go and buy a flock of chicks now. I thank Kathy with a K for reminding me.

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Chicks: A Good Choice

The following is from Heifer International's website. I thought it was apropos to give a flock of chicks in Dawg's name:)

Flock of Chicks
Chicks: A Good Choice

A flock of chicks can help families from Cameroon to the Caribbean add nourishing, life-sustaining eggs to their inadequate diets.

The protein in just one egg is a nutritious gift for a hungry child. Protein-packed eggs from even a single chicken can make a life-saving difference.

Heifer helps many hungry families with a starter flock of 10 to 50 chicks. A good hen can lay up to 200 eggs a year - plenty to eat, share or sell. With Heifer recipients' commitment to pass on the offspring and training, the exponential impact of adding chickens to communities in poverty is truly a model that helps end hunger and poverty.

Because chickens require little space and can thrive on readily available food scraps, families can make money from the birds without spending much. And chickens help control insects and fertilize gardens.

In Tanzania, Omari and Kulwa were struggling to raise a family on just 50 cents a day. With the training and chicks they received from Heifer, egg sales have boosted their daily income to $2, so they can now buy food and still pay school fees. Now, through passing on the gift, all of the children in their village are going to school.

My 100th Post - Ode to Dawg

As part of my New Year's Revolution, I started this blog. I had no idea what to write or who would read it or how long I would keep it up. Honestly, I also had no idea what I was going to write about or what might come of it.

My first profile said that I wanted to be discovered as one of the great comic voices of our time. I wanted to be paid to write and published far and wide and become famous as a no non-sense kind of girl who, on a bad day overuses alliteration and justifiable poor punctuation.

On Thursday January 29th, I copied and pasted an article I had written weeks before into blogger. It took me an embarrassingly long time to do it. Later in the day, I posted another entry about how pleased I was with myself. And even later I posted a hilarious if disturbing exchange in which Faith taught me the most efficient way in which to dispose of our fish. Day 1 - I was hooked.

February - I posted and posted. I looked around a little, figured out that I could click on my own interests in my own profile and be directed to other bloggers that shared that interest. (I am a computer moron.) I wrote a little of this, a little of that. Family situations, political rants, witty anecdotes. I tried it all. Mid-month, someone took notice of my flailing attempts to get some attention. She became my first follower.

Dawg. Dawg. Wonderful Dawg. She left her first comment on February 12th. It was a post about Dawn breaking our unspoken agreement to stop shaving during the winter. Oh, the joy that cursed through my body at seeing the words "1 comment"! It was better than the vast majority of the sex that I had in my life prior to the year 2007. That goes to show what lesbianism can do for a floundering, lost soul.

Dawn freaked out. "Who is this person? Where is she? What is she smoking? (Remember Dawg's picture in the smoke haze? There was what looked like a door with tempered glass in the top half behind her. It always made me think of "Smokin' in the Boys' Room.") What does she write about? Oh! My! God! Becca! She's like a real Dyke! Oh my God!" I reminded Dawn that she was the one that had encouraged the writing. She was the one that had encouraged the public profile. She was the one person that had supported me and wanted me to succeed in this ridiculous endevour. I reminded her that in order to become a writer that gets paid that people have to actually read what said writer writes. I reminded her that this was a good thing. She wasn't convinced. I think Dawg scared her a little.

5 months, 100 posts and 29 Followers later, Dawn has come around, and Dawg has stayed true-blue. She hardly ever misses a post. She gave me my first and only award. I found most of you by scouring her reading list. She has taught me A LOT about the lesbian community - either because she told us all about it or because I didn't understand what she was talking about and looked it up myself. Dawg - my virtual tour-guide to my new life, and my first Imaginary Friend.



In honor of my 100th post and of her friendship, I'll be making a donation in her name to Heifer International, (If you're not laughing right now, take a deep breath, release the furrow in your forehead and the tension in your shoulders. 'Cause that's just funny - I don't care who you are.) an organization that gives livestock and husbandry training to impoversished women around the world. The women are then charged with passing on the gift by giving offspring to their neighbors and teaching their sisters and daughters what they were taught. I'll also be sending her a little gift in appreciation for her regular attention and continued urging down this road-less-traveled.

Thanks, Dawg.

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