Noticeably absent from Obama's town hall meeting in Pendleton, Oregon? Toddlers.Although there were a few other cherubic babies and miscellaneous primary school students, Thing 1 and Thing 2 were representing the toddler population of future American voters on Sunday.
Now that we've returned from arduous journey (from the trek in the car and standing in line for tickets which was repeated today to get in to the talk) to only enjoy minutes of Obama's talk, I certainly understand why there weren't more kids.
We were really looking at this as a rare opportunity for all of us to experience history. In the end, we were part of history, at least for Obama's stop in Pendleton.
Thing 1 got booted from the Pendleton Convention Center for crying hysterically...by Secret Service, a deputy and the rally organizer. In our own defense, he was crying in the hallway since we promptly removed him when he started crying loudly, just before Obama took to the mic.
It seems he's got a lot of fears these days and today it was being in a confined area on the bleachers and surrounded by loud clapping and cheering.
I got to stay in my seat with Thing 2 until she woke up and started crying too. Luckily, it was enough to hear 10 minutes of Obama's talk. I'm sure we weren't the crowd favorite, but I'm still glad we went. We'll never see our fellow cheerleaders again and we can say we were there.
Update: I was concerned enough about Thing 1's increasingly fears about noises that I chatted with my mama guru, aka best friend and mother of three. She sent me this link: http://askville.amazon.com/child-scared-loud-puppets-make-noise/AnswerViewer.do?requestId=4532857
Monday, May 19, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
An open letter
Dear Buddy, Coco and unidentified yelping black dog,
I recognize that you can't read. But I'm putting my frustrations to paper in case you are more intelligent than I've given canines credit.
I've had my share of interesting roommates (the stripper with seizures and the unemployed shopaholic with an unhealthy affection for all things Nabisco, for instance). But I've never had any trouble with neighbors...until recently.
I know you're lonely and perhaps a little depressed about the fact you're dogs. Plus you don't have a lot of unique characteristics going for you. You're dogs with the most common names imaginable. (My guess for random black dog's name is Shadow or Lucky.)
I also recognize that you've been latch-key dogs for most of your existence. But don't forget, you do have each other to chase and play fetch with.
But I need to say it, (because I'm too much of an unconfrontational sort to tell your owners)...you're making life unbearable on this side of the fence.
That is, what's left of it.
With your incessant, round-the-clock cries of desperation, you've pummeled our adjoining fence, stripping it into mangled pieces of wood. Not only is not longer aesthetically pleasing, but it's also no longer safe for tiny digits like those belonging to our kids.
This has meant numerous trips to the lumber yard to repair the fence you've destroyed. Oh, and we get to hear your deafening yells as Eric makes said repairs. It's like you think you're the Sam Kinisons of the canine realm, except with even more of a grating pitch and no funny jokes.
Buddy, you in particular, need to work on your tone of bark. You've become vicious. I know you're upset that I paid $40 for the high-pitched device to control your barking. I had to do something though. I can no longer stomach your oppositional and defiant behavior.
Please let me know if a Milk-Bone or an electric fence would do the trick.
Feel free to email me if you're able or just give me a shout...over the fence. I know you will.
Sincerely,
Genoa
I recognize that you can't read. But I'm putting my frustrations to paper in case you are more intelligent than I've given canines credit.
I've had my share of interesting roommates (the stripper with seizures and the unemployed shopaholic with an unhealthy affection for all things Nabisco, for instance). But I've never had any trouble with neighbors...until recently.
I know you're lonely and perhaps a little depressed about the fact you're dogs. Plus you don't have a lot of unique characteristics going for you. You're dogs with the most common names imaginable. (My guess for random black dog's name is Shadow or Lucky.)
I also recognize that you've been latch-key dogs for most of your existence. But don't forget, you do have each other to chase and play fetch with.
But I need to say it, (because I'm too much of an unconfrontational sort to tell your owners)...you're making life unbearable on this side of the fence.
That is, what's left of it.
With your incessant, round-the-clock cries of desperation, you've pummeled our adjoining fence, stripping it into mangled pieces of wood. Not only is not longer aesthetically pleasing, but it's also no longer safe for tiny digits like those belonging to our kids.
This has meant numerous trips to the lumber yard to repair the fence you've destroyed. Oh, and we get to hear your deafening yells as Eric makes said repairs. It's like you think you're the Sam Kinisons of the canine realm, except with even more of a grating pitch and no funny jokes.
Buddy, you in particular, need to work on your tone of bark. You've become vicious. I know you're upset that I paid $40 for the high-pitched device to control your barking. I had to do something though. I can no longer stomach your oppositional and defiant behavior.
Please let me know if a Milk-Bone or an electric fence would do the trick.
Feel free to email me if you're able or just give me a shout...over the fence. I know you will.
Sincerely,
Genoa
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