sending gratitude and support to the Occupiers in downtown Portland. (on Facebook and Twitter too, of course.)

some of the coverage:

CBS News

Huffington Post

Christian Science Monitor

Reuters

i’m glad for music.

“I’m glad to be back in Folsom!” — June Carter Cash, on “Folsom Prison Blues.” And she meant it.

http://youtu.be/nzhzCF77GDo

Feeling a little more grateful today, especially since Steve has the day off, too. I saw that it was 11:11, and, as always, yelled, It’s 11:11 make a wish!

Steve: It’s 11:11 on 11/11/11!

Woot. So that was a very cool moment for our entire family, as we are geekier than geeky.

Grateful today for: Steve (who understands me, even as I’m being a baby and accusing him of not understanding me). The kids. Our three crazy cats. Nutella Cake (thank you Debi and Gabriele, you hazelnutty kids you), the new Rosie O’Donnell show on OWN (Phyllis Diller at 94, Mrs. Brady tells all, Debi Mazar!!! and a funny, funny interview w/ Turtle from Entourage), the weather (not too rainy, for an Oregon fall).

And last but certainly not least — I’m grateful for the Occupy movements that are happening all over the world, including our very own Portland, Oregon. To those of you who are calling names, saying that Occupy is a pack of dirty hippies, “They should get jobs! Dirty hippies!” etc. Here is my question: Do you have a job? Because I don’t. Not one that pays, anyway.

I have been the following, since 1998: unemployed, underemployed, half-time employed, on contract, and/or temp, with no benefits, or with inadequate benefits that I paid through the nose for, with a disappearing 401k that was tiny to begin with.

1998 was almost 14 years ago.

Meanwhile there are a lot of people in this country taking advantage of a bad situation, and bankrolling. In the spirit of my daughter’s first-grade teacher, they’re keeping all the Crayolas stashed in the cupboard and telling you to go buy your own. What Crayolas? We have no Crayolas here, close the cupboard! You are a loser if you can’t afford your own.

At the same time, there are a whole lot of people worse off than my family, believe me. We’re fine. Steve has a job, our medical insurance is all right (thank God, because we have chronic asthma and thyroid issues over here — no medical insurance is not an option). I didn’t “work” for years because it put us in the red, every time I did. (Paying for daycare, aftercare, beforecare.) Now that the kids are almost ready to solo… guess who’s rusty? My advice to mommies now: Don’t quit your job. Go in the red, pay for daycare, juggle your sked w/ your partner, other moms, family, roommates, whatever it takes, but don’t get off that treadmill, little hamster. Cuz once you do? Good luck getting back on.

I’m so grateful for my two kids — I love them to infinity and beyond. I don’t want them to have to make these kinds of decisions, when they’re older and perhaps having families of their own. Whose career to sacrifice. Deciding who’s got the “more important” job. Whose work is “less critical” when it comes to sick days, school holidays, spring break, etc. I don’t want them to be constantly in the red.

You want to know a secret? I like to work. I find it satisfying. I like being part of a team. I like a schedule, and wearing grown-up clothes. I really adore getting that paycheck every week or every other week or every 30 days. Whenever it shows up is fine with me. I just want it to show up.

I would like it if our country somehow found it in ’em to help pay for daycare, or subsidize it, or something, so we weren’t so desperate for a schedule, any schedule, and a fee schedule, along w/ it, that doesn’t kill us. I would like if the work of a teacher was valued in a monetary fashion. (I’ve also worked as a social worker, freelance writer/editor, and in a ton of clerical positions. Never the big bucks; once in awhile the “cool bucks” — but those don’t pay for groceries.)

I interviewed for several jobs this fall; didn’t get any offers. I actually had my hopes up for a job that was 1.5 hours a day (something, anything, to get my foot in the door). Didn’t get a call back. OK, that’s all right.

Saw the job posted again (it was actually three positions, all temp). They had reduced it to 1.2 hours per day. One point two. That’s what, an hour and 10 minutes a day? I can’t even count that low. (And it was clerical scale, so the hours weren’t the only thing low about it.) Didn’t get a call. So I remain “retired” and writing, hoping to sell some words, at least. It could happen.

Occupy, if you’re reading this? Thanks.

–nancy

Um. Grateful that I am never ever ever again going to give Abercrombie & Fitch any more of my family’s money. Boycott is on.

Here’s to that.

And this cup of coffee.

That’s all I got, peeps.

— nancy

Today I am grateful because this is post #1,902 for me! I’ve been blogging a long time now, dang. (Valentine’s Day will mark seven years of bloggin’ goodness here at Wacky House.)

It is nice to have a place to put it all — these posts have turned into virtual baby books for my kids; I’ve collected enough recipes now for a cookbook; all the ups and downs and hard days and happy days — all in one spot. But the coolest, most unexpected part of it all has been meeting the readers/bloggers/artists/community people over the years, through my writings and ramblings. With the exception of the occasional troll (or three ;), it has been really good to get to “meet” y’all. (Some of you I actually know from “real” life, so that is funny, and sometimes unexpected, too.) With Facebook, Google+, Twitter and everything else, readership is way down, but whatever. Some of you are still sticking with me. I never check my stats or incoming links any more. So I am not sure of the specifics, but like I said, whatever.

So thank you. On this cold, dark November night, from my part of the world (North America, USA, the Pacific Northwest, Oregon, Portland ‘burbs, specifically) to wherever you might be — thanks a bunch.

peace.

— nancy

Today I’m grateful for the falling leaves. Our maple trees are almost bare now — I’ve filled and re-filled the yard debris bins about half a dozen times. Steve and the kids would have helped, if I had asked. But I kind of wanted to do it all by myself and use the time to meditate.

The small amount that was left today got swept out into the street. (Like how i put that into the passive voice? “The leaves found themselves swept into the street.” As if I had nothing to do with it.) I also put some under the burning bushes, to give the critters a place to hide out. (We’re reading “The Mouse and the Motorcycle” for the 2011/2012 Oregon Battle of the Books. It makes you eyeball life in a different way, thinking of it from a mouse and his boy’s point of view.)

In our former town, you could get old and wrinkled waiting for the street sweepers/leaf getters to come by. Out here, they stop by regularly. So I’m grateful for them, too. Thanks, dudes.

But mainly I’m happy today cuz I went to water aerobics, got coffee, stopped by the library and the store, then came home and worked on the leaves. I’m stretched out and relaxed now. it feels good. Am warmed up physically and mentally and now? I write.

have a superfine Monday.

— wm

I’m following the Lovely Laura’s lead here, and every day this month will post something I’m grateful for. It’s already the sixth, so I’d better catch up!

1st of November) As always, I am grateful for Steve and the kids.

2nd) Also grateful for our extended family and friends.

3rd) Grateful that the U.S. soldiers might come home from Iraq by end of the year. Please, oh please? I have been hoping for this for many years now. My son’s entire life, pretty much.

4th) Grateful that the entire house is clean. (thank you, moi. I love cleaning the house on Fridays so we can play on the weekend and get other stuff done.)

5th) Grateful that we ran to the mall, found the stuff my daughter needed for her band performance, and ran home. I remain relatively unscathed by the experience.

6th) Thank you, Daylight Savings Time. Really grateful for that extra hour this morning.

Whew, caught up!

— wm

“It’s no use arguing with somebody like me.” — Calvin Trillin

We caught writer Calvin Trillin on the Daily Show last week. Man, is he funny. Go buy a copy of his new book, and buy some of his other books, too, while you’re at it.

Lynda Barry, how I love thee. Let me count the ways:

1) In the beginning, there was Poodle with a Mohawk. (“He knew what people thought of his kind: ‘High Strung. ‘Spoiled Rotten.’ ‘French.'”)

2) Then there were Marlys and Maybonne, who always managed to comfort me as they comforted themselves.

3) There was the time I caught a special about Lynda Barry on cable TV. She was introducing an audience to some of her big paintings, and she was amazing, the way she talked about her art. “See? In this one, she’s saying, ‘Perdon?'” She was cracking herself up and I thought, You can be an artist and really have some fun with it. And if people don’t like your stuff, or say it doesn’t count, well, screw ’em. (Honestly, I was already getting that reaction from a lot of people about my writing. Too domestic, too much cussing, and then there was my complete and total refusal to re-write The Rime of the Ancient Mariner and claim it as my own. I do love Coleridge, Wordsworth and Donne, but my style is… my own style.)

4) I just really liked the way she put art + words together, and I loved how gritty her work was.

5) Lynda Barry is the best combination of fearless + goofy.

6) Her essay, “The Sanctuary of School,” is one of the finest essays I have ever read.

7) Just fyi: She went to the Evergreen State College. Their mascot is the geoduck. (Pronounced “gooey-duck,” for those of you not from these parts.)

8) She is friends with cartoonist Matt Groening.

9) My old friend Nina and I used to clip Lynda Barry’s cartoons out of the papers and mail them to each other, from the west coast to the east coast and vice-a versa-a.

10) You can pre-order her book, “Blabber Blabber Blabber.”

11) “Well, you little bad asses. How about that?” — Lynda Barry

Wacky Mommy, out.

Civil rights hero. Rest in peace, brother. And thank you for your hard work.