Monthly Archives: May 2009

This morning the unthinkable happened. Families in Wichita had breakfast, and got dressed in their Sunday best so they could join together in prayer. Dr. George Tiller’s wife, Jeanne, sang in the choir, and in the foyer of the Reformation Lutheran Church of Wichita Kansas, Dr. George Tiller was murdered in cold blood.

Scott Roeder has been arrested in the slaughter of Dr. Tiller.

Dr. Tiller is no stranger to violence at the hands of those who purport to save lives. Dr. George Tiller was shot in both arms in 1993, by a virulent Pro Life Crusader. Dr. Tiller has been the beneficiary of police protection (as high as the federal level) due to credible threats on his life. A simple Google search of Dr. George Tiller will show you what a lightening rod he really was. Dr. Tiller continued practicing medicine and performing late term abortions on women who required them even after having been shot.

The feminism of my mother’s generation revolved around reproductive rights. My mother hid her pregnancy with me (she was a married schoolteacher) because she knew she’d have been fired for her pregnancy. My mother also explained to me that she and her counterparts took the first generation of birth control pills knowing that they’d grow mustaches, but they were, “so happy to have sex without worrying about having a baby or dying that no one cared.”

Really, that’s what she said. My mother’s generation grew up knowing that sex could kill you, because an abortion was that dangerous. I am a 39 year old woman; I grew up with Planned Parenthood and free clinics. It would be easy for me to forget that feminism isn’t just about women working. Feminism is about women living and dying.

Today a Church was victimized. Today women were victimized and a man who saved the lives of American Women was murdered. Contrary to what some of the fringe groups would have you believe, it is very difficult for a woman to have a late term abortion in Kansas or elsewhere in the US. Typically the child is incompatible with life and/or the mother’s life is in great peril.

There is no part of me that wants a woman to have an abortion. When I lay in bed at night, and I’m still I can recall the flutters of my children’s limbs in my womb. Within moments of a positive pregnancy test, I was thinking of names for my children and planning our time together, from trips to education and books to read. I believe in my heart of hearts that pregnant women are mothers.

Yet I believe in mothers, and women. I would risk everything I have on the mothers I have met, and I know that they are not killers, and that abortion, particularly late term abortions are not decisions made lightly. I know that just a few short years ago our daughters were made sterile from botched abortions. My friend lost his mother to a botched abortion about the time I was born.

The not so funny thing? She wasn’t even pregnant.

Today I cried a little, because the sacred was made profane. Our country has been polarized, once again, and women have lost a man that tended to their health without judgment.

Photo courtesy of Wikipedia via creative commons.

They killed him in Church. Dr. George Tiller was murdered in his church on a Sunday.

I’m a Jewish woman from Los Angeles raised by left wing hippie idealists, weaned on a steady diet of Ms. Magazine, peace rallies and communist ideals.

And with my background, I ache for the people who went to church to pray this morning, and instead were victims of the hate group known as Operation Rescue.

Right now, there is a woman in or around Wichita Kansas who needs an abortion. It’s not about convience or promiscuity, there are situations which put the mother’s life at risk.

With Dr. Tiller dying at the hands of a hate group, you can get ready for more of this.

Because this is what abortion looks like when it’s forced underground.

I am furious, and sad.

I am also pro-life. Yeah, go figure.

I am absolutely terrified of changing light bulbs. Simply handling glass that thin and knowing that it contains a swirl of poison inside sends me into fits.

I change light bubs on occasion, but really I’d rather sit in the dark than handle them. I feel my pulse race, I can hear my heartbeat and first I’m cold, then I sweat.

Snakes don’t scare me, people don’t scare me, heights are not an issue, but a light bulb, that is scary.

A few weeks ago I got an email from MeeHive asking me to check out their site. “I would totally love to,” I replied, “but I’m really busy playing tennis and not putting out any quality content.”

“OhMyGoodness,” they responded, “you can subscribe to tennis news on MeeHive, and we would love to talk to you about navel gazing.” Well, actually that’s not at all what happened, but it’s my fantasy, so leave me alone.

MeeHive is a site where you can take all your blog feeds, all your newspaper feeds and your general interests to combine them into one page, but ordered into tidy columns and categories. It’s a lot like having a newspaper that only has the columns you want, and the news isn’t a day old. The layout is clean and clear, the headlines will catch your eye.

When you sign up for MeeHive it asks you a series of questions. They start with business and finance (I entered Twitter, Facebook and Consumer Reports), then they ask you what politics you are interested in. I left that mostly blank. There are cities to fill in, sports, celebrities, performing arts, science, authors and more. MeeHive then takes all your interests and rolls them into a landing page.

Here’s one thing you should know about MeeHive. Unlike other online sites, it takes time. I kept adding topics and businesses until I found a manageable amount of information. It took approximately a day for my “hive” to really flow. I’m slowly adding topics and really enjoying that the MeeHive grabs AP content as well as MSM (Mainstream Media) content and slaps it all up on a page for me.

For instance, on Memorial Day I took a look at MeeHive and saw that a mother in the Midwest had fled Minnesota with her son who has cancer, and subsequently returned. Apparently an arrest warrant was issued when she took her child to New Mexico in search of alternative healing for her 13 year old sons’ Lymphoma. This is not a story I would have found in the LA Times. This is not a story I’d find with a google alert for “Cancer”. It’s a really cool, interesting story about a mother who was feeling desperate and a child who she wanted to care for. Did she do the right thing? Yes, she returned to Minnesota where he can receive chemotherapy, and have a chance at a full and healthy life.

I digress.

MeeHive also has a social media component with a Facebook plugin. If you’re my facebook friend you should find me right away on MeeHive and we can share stories? MeeHive is so new that I’m a little lonely there, I’m waiting to see what it’s like when you have friends to share stories with.

MeeHive will pick up where the Google Reader leaves off. I can read my favorite blogs, news stories and find a few surprise stories. If you’re a niche blogger it’s important to be up on the latest stories and reading the AP wire endlessly just isn’t practical.

The folks at MeeHive set up a page for y’all to get in on their beta, click through here to give it a try. Like any of the social media sites, it’s only as good as you make it, and I’d encourage you to try it out, because I want to see who and what you’re reading.

*MeeHive is a blog sponsor, and I decided to enter into a relationship with them after trying and loving the service*

Preamble: I love my husband and he loves me.

Last night my husband was in the kitchen and took a bowl off the shelf.

“There’s crap all over this bowl. Can you make sure they’re clean before you put them away? This keeps happening.” He railed.

“Uh, ya know what? Sometimes the dishwasher isn’t perfect, if you want the bowl clean why don’t you wash it.” I asked him.

“I don’t wash dishes.” He declared.

“Maybe you should.”

“Listen Jess, I’ve got three stopgaps before the dishes get to me. I’ve got a dishwasher, maid service and a wife. All three of you cost me a fortune. I won’t wash dishes.”

I wanted to respond, but really I was too busy in fits and gales of laughter. I washed the bowl, and then took myself shopping. In fact, I’m going to buy the housekeeper something very nice too.

Earlier this week a review site strung me up. The review of this blog was a good ole fashioned skewering, but the reviewer was thoughtful and still kind. He says we are stripes and plaid; I say we are dessert and gravy, both yummy, neither particularly necessary.

I get it. Their points are valid. Maybe I’m not a Mommy Blogger. That is entirely possible, and clearly they’re not my target audience, but hey, I wanted the feedback, and even more. I wanted the traffic.

There. I said it. It’s good traffic, if I get a loyal reader or two out of it, good for me.

The comments are long and read more like twitter or a chat room, but they are mostly hipsters with pseudonyms making very personal attacks. I won’t even glance at the ones that talk about my kids, because I think we all know that’s a slippery slope.

I cared a little bit, but then I remembered where I was. I was looking at a comment stream of women whom I’ve never met. These are people who don’t live in my community, won’t be a BlogHer (because really, they’re above that right?), Blog World or the #140conf (did I mention I’m speaking there?). These are folks with well guarded identities who talk about you and not to you.

Case in point.

Here’s the thing. I don’t pick on people. It’s not what I do, and I’ve made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t.

*Taking a Break from the High Road*

That was a bitch ass move, if you weren’t a total fucking coward you would’ve @JessicaGottlieb & known that I’d see it. Oh, and your legs aren’t nearly as hawt as you think they are.

And B, I won’t even comment on you, because you had my attention via email and you’re too busy trying to be hip and cool. Sorry, hair bleach will only take you so far, try being pretty on the inside too.

*Back to the dumb ass high road*

Gosh that felt good.

So yeah, the high road? Fuckit.