I don’t get it. Conservatives are afraid of Hillary Clinton yet so are left-leaning liberals.

I remember my uncle, an elite attorney in D.C., telling me that when he walked down the halls of his government office that people feared him. He was proud of that. If people fear you, isn’t that power? It’s much better than being laughed at.

Recently Christian members of my family forwarded an inspirational “joke” email to me with scenes of serene waterfalls, statements about how beautiful life is and how holding Hillary’s head under the water would complete a perfect picture.  Harsh. And, my left-leaning friends think she’s practically a Bush-Lite.

I’m undecided as a voter but absolutely fascinated by the Hillary hate spin. Most lefties and righties probably don’t know the following about Hill:

• She was president of the Young Republicans in college
• She’s part of a secret Congresional Bible Study called Fellowship
• She described herself in college as a “mind conservative with the heart of a liberal”

I like anyone who’s going to challenge the establishment and bring in new ideas. She seems like someone who could unite both sides. I’m still blown away that she had to forgive infidelity on the most public stage in the world and I guess forgiveness is threatening. Almost makes me want to– hold her head under the water???

In August, I’d read about the lunar eclipse and thought- what the hell. We need to break up the routine and this could even quality as an ADVENTURE. Usually our idea of an adventure is feeding more than 300 tickets into the Chuck E Cheese ticket muncher then standing in line for 30 minutes watching children choose between a rubber ball or a spider ring. Woo-hoo!

As a pilot’s daughter, I’ve always romanticized the sky. I remember getting up in the middle of the night with my Dad to see Hayley’s comet in 1976 . I can still see a splash of chalky milk against a dark Sacramento, Calif. night. I felt both in awe of the universe and also very safe under his arm. He bought a telescope and always knew the right time to see a constellation or even Jupiter.

In my adventure with the stars, there was little planning, no telescope – not even binoculars. It was a clear night and the alarm worked so at 3:30 a.m. kiddo and I backed out of the garage and into our adventure. We drove up and down streets looking like we’re trying to find a lost dog. I think my child even called out, “moon, where are you, moon?” I started to worry after 15 minutes or so and anti-climatic thoughts started to crash the moon party. Then, we caught it.

I pulled over on the 91 freeway and she crawled over the console and sat in my lap. The shadowed moon was the color of Alabama clay–appropriately enough, sitting in the Southern sky. We identified cloud shapes- I saw an animal and she saw a butt and we laughed a lot.

Tucking her in, I was so proud of myself. Now, Claire and I had our moment under the sky.

Pulled up in front of school yard last Friday. Running late and guilt meter already high as I had:

1. Yelled at kiddo to hurry up (for the love of God why does it take little people so long to get the out the door!) which of course led her to rush and stub her toe on the carpet and cry and take even LONGER.
2. Missed her first day of 1st grade at a new school AND her first AYSO soccer game because I was in NYC with husband-Mark’s family attending a wedding and seeing musicals.

Last Friday was really only my second time even taking her to this school and I’m looking through the fence at a sea of people in red shirts. Adults and kids all lining up on the playground all in red school colors. “Oh man,” I tell D. Claire, who knew today was national red day?”

As I walk kiddo to the playground and see her in her denim shorts and jacket, I tear-up. My kid appears to be the only one not wearing red. How could I have missed this?

Later as I’m telling this story it’s really funny and her Dad gets a laugh. “Don’t worry,” he says, “I’ll tell her that it’s important to stand out as an individual, you know, something like that. I’ll talk to her about it.”

I feel better.

The ego gets outed.  Great timing for all working parents.  Just as we’re feeling like shit because even summer school is closed for the summer and we’ve put our kids in some random camp run by Teenagers so that we can continue to work, here comes toe-tapping Larry Craig hitting on a cop in a restroom.

Handing out his senatorial business card upon arrest at the Minn. St. Paul Airport, Larry “What do you think of that” Craig might be singing “Bend Over Sweet Chariot” in his now defunct Barbershop Senator Choir with Trent Lott and John Ashcroft he takes in the ass for this stupid stunt.

Second day on the job– a developer and I have to deliver some difficult news.

We get them on the phone:

Me: “Hi– I’m afraid that I’ve got an issue to report and some ways that we want to address it.”

Client: OK (gulp!)

Me: Unfortunately while reviewing your HTML, we discovered some inconsistencies…– uh— uh, (at this moment I see a 3 inch cockroach crawling up my leg. I jump up, I do NOT scream and I swipe at the f*cker.)

Me: There’s literally a huge bug crawling up my leg and I’m trying to get it off. Uh, hold that thought. <My colleague and I yelp> (I try two and three times to get this thing off of my leg. Finally, fourth swipe and it gets on the floor.)

My colleague: (smacks with her notebook- several times, which does nothing to the roach)

Me: (take off shoe- smackdown with heel- dead. Finally. IT guy comes in room after hearing screams. He (thank God) removes the body and our call resumes with client feeling really sorry for me at this point.

HR follows up on any residual trauma and pest control comes the end of the week.

I’m digging the gig but there were definitely some bugs at first. Crazy!

In our own way, this is our family tribute to eating healthy or just a funny song made up in the car.

She’s still here. There are photos of her like this one from my house warming party in 2005. (L-to-R: Stephanie, Summer, Joel and Joy (red scarf)) Today, Jennifer and I talked about her over lunch. How blessed we were to have someone so genuine, so graceful, so-not-of-this-world in our work place.

Part receptionist, therapist, nutritionist and healer, Joy Stevens changed the dynamic of a room when she entered. She was always doling out herbal remedies for our colds, fatigue or sore throats. She listened without looking over your shoulder when talking about kids, families, work stuff or date nights.

Radiant, playful and wise, she taught me how to get rid of the junk in my spiritual trunk.

Joy, I’m lighter yet stronger because of you. I’m inspired by you and grateful to call you, friend. Thank you.

>>From her family

>Our darling Sister, Joy has passed away Sunday morning, June 17th,
> >2007, at 2:20 AM, pacific time.
> >
> >She was free of pain, and her passing at home was peaceful and in
> >accord with Joy’s
> >wishes– no hospital, and no medications. Joy can now proceed on her
> >eternal spiritual journey. She bequeaths us all with the gifts of her
> >refined presence and kindness, which we have been inspired by.
> >
> >We have been with Joy during these last two weeks by her side.
> >It was a special time for us creating an atmosphere of safety, love,
> >comfort, and spiritual protection.
> >
> >We deeply appreciate the spiritual support we have received from so
> >many dear people, Thank you for your kindness– it has meant everything
>to us.
> >
> >Joy shared refinement, beauty, harmony, and inspiration with everyone.
> >Let us be inspired by her example. Remember how her presence brought
> >these qualities into each situation. Let these refined qualities be
> >activated within yourself. May you, yourself, now express these
>qualities in your own unique way.
> >
> >This reflects our darling sister….
> > RARE PEOPLE
> > There are rare people in this world who are so caring -
> > who’s natural instinct is to put someone eles’s need
> > head of their own…
> > There are rare people in this world who
> > offer encouragement when its needed;
> > who are always there to listen with a smile
> > and a loving open heart;
> > who never want and expect praise for their good
> > deeds because thats just the way they are.
> >
> > Joy was one of those rare people and how fortunate
> > we are to have her as our sister and your friend.
> >
> >Much love Fay & Helen – Ian Stevens Brother in NZ

1. Before meeting family for lunch at Orzo on W. 3rd, I straightened up my car for the valet. Like he’s going to whisper to my in-laws that I’m driving my purse, or something.
2. Double booking myself twice in one week. My personality is definitely splitting and so are brain cells.
3. Forgetting to pick up the kid. Fooled you… this has never happened. Not yet, anyway.
4. Leaving my purse at a restaurant. Thought the walk to the car felt unusually light after lunch.
5. My home is in chaos. The cleaning lady got a better job, the printer connected to the airport element doesn’t print, the dishwasher is ashy and we’re washing by hand and the ceiling fan in the bedroom just stopped working and the nights have been sweaty and sticky in all the not-so-great ways.

Will I take a break soon? Will my child defect to her friends’ more manicured homes? Will my husband just throw the dishes out the window one night instead of washing them?

Stay Tuned.

I’m a more productive writer when I’m wearing thong underwear. There’s something about sitting on a tight rope that makes me sit up and concentrate. I’ve heard writers speak about going to great lengths to create a cozy, warm safe environment. I picture them wearing 100 percent cotton sweats, fuzzy socks that have never been washed and lighting some type of energy candle to clear the aura to get the words out. For me, ass-splitting anguish is most effective. Perhaps this is my Catholic upbringing calling me to martyrdom through lingerie. I’m bargaining with God here– pain and panties for productivity. Because the fabric juts into the skin, I can only sit for about two hours at a time without having to get up, go to the bathroom and relieve the pressure. I challenge myself to complete as much work as possible in this short amount of time then I reward myself by removing my panties for a 15 minute break.

Opening up about my ritual of self-flagellation, I fantasize about taking it on the road. The methodology is simple and could work for many athletes and executives. Baseball players are infamous for rituals. Nomar Garciapara, a former LA Dodger, is infamous for his pre-bat ritual of unattaching and reattaching his velcro batting gloves several times before hitting. Think about how free he would have felt from public scrutiny if he just walked up to the batter’s box, kicked the dirt a few times and hit the ball. No more touch the right arm band, tap plate with bat, open and chose bathing gloves, touch helmet with bat, make sign of the cross, kick feet back like cat covering poo in litter box, then repeat three times. I see myself convincing Garciapara.

Nomi, dude, it makes perfect sense. The pressure of the thong up your butt stops you from over thinking it. Every time you’re at bat you crack one. Hey, that’s like, the perfect name. We could call it, Bat Crack!

I collect a retainer for hush money, swearing that under no circumstances will I reveal our secret. Sort of like Barry Bonds’ personal trainer but without the illegal substance part. But when People features Nomar as one of the most intriguing people of the year, he jokes about his lucky underwear and then it happens. Calls come in from professional athletes all across the country. I launch a web site and a blog, Cracked Up. I dine at 5-star restaurants while showing off the latest packaging for Bat Crack. I hire a PR agent to deal with the barrage of questions left as voice mails.

• Are you tracking the success of batters who wear Nylon verses cotton?
• Are you talking to MLB about a licensing deal?
• You mention that this trend helps you to be more productive as a writer. What have you written since you started wearing Bat Crack?

I’m sitting at Duke’s Restaurant overlooking the Pacific Ocean in Malibu, Calif. waiting on Dr. Phil’s producer. Seems they’re doing a show on underwear as outer confidence or something like that. I stare out at the horizon and think how cool it is that I might be on Dr. Phil. My mom will email all her friends in her Catholic choir and then 60-year-old women with my branded underwear will be singing “I will raise you up on Eagle’s wings” and get a certain twinkle in their eye with the words “raise you up”. Maybe they’ll leave a few behind for the priests or I could design a specialty line for them: The Temptation Tickle with feather trim, Supple Sinner in velvet- that might rub too many people the right way though.

First athletes, then church-leaders and perhaps next, the politicians. “Nothing is more powerful than an idea whose time has come.” I know Victor Hugo was probably talking about the French Revolution but what if I took Bat Crack and made it biodegradable? Al Gore would love that. How about cooler-packed thongs worn just before debates to keep candidates alert or medicated ones for those days when they’re taking it in the ass in the polls?

I could go on and on but, ouch, wow, time for me to take a well-deserved break.

Photo Credit: We can thank Gabrielle for this tacky thong image and the sad news that thongs are going out of style.

1. Layoffs
After surviving several rounds of “letting people go,” I’m one of the few people left at my agency. The creative director is freelancing from home and the only IT guy just accepted another job.

2. People Looking at Our Office Space
In the middle of conference calls in my office, the HR guy walks by showing clients our office space.

3. There’s No More Water
Literally, the water cooler bottles are empty and are not going to be refilled. We were all parched for days before we realized this.