9:16 a.m. - 2007-02-11
home sweet home
While I was in Greensboro, NC, a lot of interesting things happened.
Ellen Botkin and I spent a lot of time together and got to know each other better.
I found out that Mae Klingler thought at one time that Kennywood (Pittsburgh's wonderful amusement park) was a theme park built by or in honor of kenny Rogers, or possibly Kenny Loggins, similar to Dollywood. This made me chuckle several times long after the conversation had ended.
Maya Angelou spoke eloquently and, go figure, with poetic grace. She is really sharp and witty for a lady that is getting on in years. She talked about how you'll probably never fully realize the value of the impact you can have by investing in a child. Her uncle, a man who was disabled, taught her and this other boy in the town their times tables, among other things. Maya Angelou grew up to be Maya Angelou and the boy grew up to be the mayor of Little Rock, Arkansas. They both attributed their love of learning to him.
Obama announced his presidential bid. I am signed up as a volunteer. So are the Baumgardeners. Go to www.mybarackobama.com to get involved. There is an event at Soba on Feb 15th at 5pm if you are in the Burgh and are interested in going. I have never been involved in a political race of any kind, beyond my bid to be the charity chair and then the president of the advertising club in college. Those were stressful enough, and that was an organization of about 100 or so people. Political campaign involvement scares me because you put a lot of tireless effort into something that is not at all guarenteed to work. I imagine the feeling of being there on election day, with a bunch of people you've worked hard with for well over a year, and then you lose. It must be awful. But the glory of winning must be amazing. With Barack, I guess I belive in him enough to take that chance. So, I'm joining a group of people that I hope I like, to campaign in Oakland (the neighborhood i work in), targeting the colleges and universities (Pitt, Cargengie Mellon, Carlow, etc.)
Ellen and I got stuck in the Philly airport for two extra hours and we coped with this by totally hogging the massage chairs at Brookstone. i always feel kind of self-conscious, jiggling around as the chair vibrates and shakes and pushes at your muscles. I also feel like everyone who walks by and lingers by the chair is silently willing you to get up and let them try it. I usually sit there for about 2 minutes and give someone else a turn. But yesterday, I was so annoyed at the flight delay that I was feeling selfish and entitled, so we must have sat there for a half hour. It was lovely.
While at the conference, we saw some interesting things. 3 women who we decided had to be from Texas, in tight, tapered jeans, pulled over cowboy boots, clingy sweaters, hug helmet head, frosted hair, standing with the tips of thir fingers tucked into the pockets of their tight jeans. They all had walkie-talkie phones, holstered on their hip and their lanyards with their names on them somehow attached, dangling from the walkie talkie. Now, I enjoy wearing a lanyard around my neck about as much as I enjoy having a rock in my shoe, but I have come to realize how nice it is to just have to glance chestward to see someone's name and what town they are from in networking situations. I don't want to have to bend over and put my eye up next to the crotch of your tight stone washed jeans to read "Becky Sue Ewing" or whatever.
While on the shuttle van to the hotel from the airport, we learned from the driver that there are two things you can easily get in Greensboro:
Lard and crack.
There was a woman who only wore sunglasses INSIDE. She was also loud and argumentative, according to Ellen, who was in a workshop with her.
In Greensboro, we decided that we should be entitled to something we don't allow ourselves to have at home. I chose butter. Ellen chose television.
On the plane on the way back, a man got on wearing a floor length mink coat, and took it off to reveal an absolutely hideous 80s, textured, extremely colorful, Bill Cosby-esque sweater.
