Is this really what women voters want?

In a NY Times op-ed, Melinda Henneberger, author of “If They Only Listened to Us: What Women Voters Want Politicians to Hear," argues that the Democrat party needs to move away from a pro-choice position in order to even have a chance at the White House in the next election.

"Over 18 months, I traveled to 20 states listening to women of all ages, races, tax brackets and points of view speak at length on the issues they care about heading into ’08. They convinced me that the conventional wisdom was wrong about the last presidential contest, that Democrats did not lose support among women because “security moms” saw President Bush as the better protector against terrorism. What first-time defectors mentioned most often was abortion."

This is so hard for me to wrap my head around. I realize I'm a total wackjob, but for me, it's the complete opposite. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm probably more Republican than anything else (sssh, don't tell anyone!). But I cannot in good conscience vote for a candidate who would try to make abortion illegal. Especially when that person would most likely also back legislation for abstinence-only sex education, restricted access to birth control, tougher adoption laws, and diminished welfare and social programs. I've simply never understood a dogma that only respects the right to life until the baby is outside of the mother.

Plus, I do believe that abortion can be a moral choice. I think that it is immoral to bring a child into the world if you cannot do your utmost to provide a safe, loving environment in which to raise it.

Is this really what women voters want? A Democratic candidate who is for social programs but will overturn Roe vs. Wade? What do you think?

Stop trying to ruin it for the rest of us!

There's really no need for this kind of nonsense, Gabriel.

And please, please let it not be true! Like I didn't cry enough with the loss of Dumbledore. I really don't think I could handle the others.

Feeling resentful.

As I type this, my son is laying prostrate on the floor, kicking his little legs and screaming for his father.

Now lest you think I'm a completely uncaring mother, I've already tried plying him with hugs, kisses, the new Little Einsteins DVD, juice, a baseball that talks, going outside to ride his tricycle, his Star Wars Galactic Heroes action figures, Matchbox cars, SesameStreet.com and porn.

(I'm just kidding about the porn. But honestly, after a good 45 minutes of this, I'd consider offering it if I thought it would actually do any good).

But all the little guy wants is his Daddy. And nothing I do, NOTHING is going to change that right now.

CPT Dick is actually home this weekend to visit. But he's off today at a football game, a last hurrah with some of the other commanders before they all take off for parts unknown. And I wouldn't mind so much if we didn't go as a couple to that last hurrah party last night and spend God knows how many evenings with last hurrah dinners and drinks and BBQs and formal events before CPT Dick took off for his new post.

For all intents and purposes, we should have been hurrahed out about 2 months ago.

My son is feeling his father's absence acutely. He freaked when we left him with the babysitter last night. And when CPT Dick left earlier today, Munchkin stood at the door, wailing, "Daddy! No bye! Daddy, no bye!" And being fairly wasted after a week of doing inventories, CPT Dick hasn't exactly been 100% with the boy when he isn't out and about. He's exhausted and is expecting a two-year-old to understand that and give him a little space. Good luck with that, honey.

I mentioned earlier that the game was a bad idea but my husband thinks I'm exaggerating the issue because I didn't want him to go. And he's partly right.

One of the problems of being a good military spouse, of being able to juggle 10 balls while people throw fire darts at you to catch in your teeth, is that your spouse can sometimes forget that you are only doing all that stuff because you have to. Not necessarily because you want to. I'm happy to pick up the slack where I can. But it seriously chaps my ass when he takes it for granted.

Sure, I can play Mommy and Daddy all week long while CPT Dick gets acclimated in his new role. But it irks me to no end that I have to do it this weekend when, with all that it in front of us, my husband chose to go to tailgate and basically pretend that he's still in college, instead of staying home and spending some quality time with the Munchkin.

It seems the more often he deploys and things don't fall apart, the less he thinks he has to do. He knows one way or another, I'll get it done.

And sometimes, I can't figure out if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

Jeans for the large post-baby ass.

So I'm not really a fashionista. And the day I started working from home pretty much cinched the idea that you'll find me in (a) my Cookie Monster sweatpants or (b) some comfy jeans on any given day. I'm just generally kind of low key and appreciate the Old Navy/Gap kind of stuff. I like to find a shirt that fits well and then buy it in three colors. What can I say? I'm a simple (lazy) girl.

But I do like reading about fashion. And though most of that involves reading blogs and pop culture sites that make fun of what celebrities are wearing, I also like to see the reviews of clothing lines. Especially in the NY Times. They like to get all poetical on feathers and sequins. It tickles me.

So this week, I was reading a Q&A with Sarah Jessica Parker about her new line, Bitten. I had to read it, because, you know, I wanted to see if the designers had incorporated those ugly fabric flowers that SJP's character on Sex and the City always seemed to have tacked on to her dresses. This is critical information.

But in the Q&A, SJP touches on the fact that she's getting some criticism for deciding to provide clothes from sizes 0-22. You know, for repping a line that actually makes clothes for women who don't have an eating disorder or scary genetic advantage. Like the majority of women in America. Who, funnily enough, do wear clothes.

"What can people say to me—“how dare you want to make clothes for women who are size 16?” There’s no argument. Either you like it or you don’t."

What a frighteningly risky business plan! Inexpensive clothes for people of all shapes and sizes? Who does this woman think she is, putting a celebrity name to jeans, hoodies and tees that will not only fit my large post-baby ass but my budget? The nerve of some people!

It's funny, I get all indignant when I see the photos from the runway shows and wonder how some of these super-skinny women can even walk without their bones crumbling to dust. And I die a little bit inside when I read about some supermodel and realize that she's nearly a foot taller than me and yet somehow 30 lbs. lighter. So I have to say, kudos to you, SJP. I don't know where I can find a Steve and Barry's store (I keep thinking of it as Ben & Jerry's in my head) but if and when I do, I'm going to buy a couple of items.

I've got your back, girl. Until I find a shirt with one of those fugly flowers, that is. Because we bigger girls got enough going on without having to justify one of those crazy, flappy accessories.

Need some motivation?

Create your own motivational poster. It's fun!

Of course, the poster shown is one of the classics from Despair.com.

I remember that when I first came upon the Despair site, many moons ago, I wished I could make my own poster -- I had so many good ideas (though none I could imagine fit my life as well as the Meetings one). But now that I have a generator, I'm coming up with nothing. Total blank.

Maybe you'll have more luck with it. Because everyone needs a little (de) motivation now and then.

Take that, younger siblings!

Sure, you may have gotten more of Mom's love being the baby and all but I got 3 more IQ points.

(And, yes, somehow even in my 30's, I still view quite a bit of my relationship with my sister as a competition. I know -- sad, sad, sad).

Reading past the headline.

A recent AP interview with John Travolta garnered the following headline: John Travolta says no to psychiatric medication.

And while I find this stance completely and utterly mindboggling, I read on. And bless my e-meter, but wouldn't you know that ol' Johnny T. and I agree on something?

"I have never been compelled to share with you my bathroom habits or share with you my bedroom habits," says the married father of two. "Everyone has a right to privacy, so I have never felt -- even though I am famous -- that I had to share that with anybody."

Do the rumors bother him? Does he think they've affected his career?

"No and no," he says. "What affects your career is the quality of the product. I don't think anyone can hurt me."

Quality of the product. Hear that, people? Not who he's sleeping with. Not what he thinks of psychotropic medication or Tom Cruise calling someone glib. Not even showing his nipples or manly garden on the red carpet. The quality of his work.

And just in case you weren't paying attention, that work is acting. Not doctoring. Not scientific research. Not even public spokesperson for weird religion. Acting. And as such, we shouldn't be looking for him (or Tom Cruise) to tell us what is okay in realms other than those. And when they decide to say something about those other realms (or, thanks to Tom Cruise's public comments are goaded into doing so by the press), we should just nod our heads and roll on through. Not worth getting into a tizzy over.

Thank you, John, for the reminder.

A case of the blahs.

I'm exactly where I should be. I hurried up and finished all of my work for the month so that I could have time to run around and accomplish all of the pain-in-the-arse move stuff that my husband should do but will actually fall on me and my trusty power of attorney.

But without orders, there ain't much of that to do. I'm in waiting mode.

So instead I have a rainy day, a cranky boy and a whole lot of Sesame Street in my future. It's a tad depressing. I mean, it ain't like having to tussle with Army civilian workers is necessarily fun but it is always entertaining.

A true tale of American entrepreneurship.

Want to know where should you stash pot in your car? How to avoid getting raided? Ex-Cop Barry Cooper has the DVD for you.

This would be funny, you know, if it weren't so damned sad.

This is just plain wrong.

Where exactly is the Simpsons' hometown of Springfield?

With the release of the big Simpsons' Movie, Springfields across the country are vying for the honor of being the Springfield and hosting a big-screen premiere of the film.

Don't get me wrong. It's brilliant marketing (and I think it's hilarious that Teddy Kennedy agreed to be in the Massachusetts entry).

But I like to think of I always thought the point was that it could be anywhere. That there was a Springfield in practically every state. And that worked so well, because if there is a little Simpson in all of us (and mine is the drool and unconscious mmm-ing when faced with donuts), then the Simpsons should live in every town.

You can tell I've thought way too much about this.