At a Kimpasse

I think I'm taking the prefix "-im" + "K" thing a little too far, but just indulge me here because I am on a tirade: Husband has suggested that I limit trips to Target (and Walgreens and the DSW Shoe Warehouse -- why do they add the "shoe warehouse" on the end ... isn't that what the "SW" stands for? That's like saying the SAT test. Ugh!) on account of the price of gas. What did you say? No, no, no, of course I don't have to actually do what he says. But he's right, because I HAVE NO MONEY (i.e., I'm "Kimpecunious") to pay for gas (or eye makeup or bondini or Absorbine, Jr.). But my lack of funding and the price of gas or my striped hair or any of my other nonsense is definitely not what I'm on a tirade about.

I'm on a tirade because I'm at a Kimpasse: WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS COUNTRY? We ignore the poor until we are forced by nature to deal with their plight, and then we gasp and gasp and oh what misfortune! how horrible! what will they do?

Disasters are happening all over the world all the time but if it happens in the U.S. then God bless America, let's hang out our flag. Hello? Did y'all hear about the famine in Niger last month? Or the stampede in Iraq that killed a thousand people and wasn't even directly related to all the bombs that we've been dropping there? Or that little epidemic they've got going on in Africa ... what's the acronym? DISA? SIDA? ASID? Oh yeah, AIDS.

I have been hearing about the poverty in New Orleans for several years now, ever since I became friends with people who teach there through the Teach for America program. As you may or may not know, I was a corps member in the Mississippi Delta for two years and never missed a day of marvelling at the fact that I grew up in that same state, but in a very different kind of place. The poverty there and in New Orleans has always been unbelievably stupendous. And guess what! Believe it or not, it's horrible even when we don't hear about it because of a hurricane. The "poor victims," of Hurricane Katrina (the ones who couldn't evacuate) were "poor" WAY before and will likely be poor WAY after this is all said and done. The fact that it took a monstrous act of nature to bring this to our attention is (now sing this to the tune of that song, "D-I-V-O-R-C-E" by Tammy Wynette) T-Y-P-I-C-A-L.

The only glimmer of hope I have been able to find in this whole situation is from the fact that these people are being taken away to other places. Maybe it's naive of me to think that they will be shipped off to somewhere better (hell, Texas is already saying NO MORE REFUGEES). But isn't it possible that getting out could be a really good thing for them? Isn't it possible that wherever these people end up, it could look something like this: the kids could be placed in good school districts, the adults could be enrolled in job training programs, and the elderly/disabled could be taken care of through well-run state programs? Or is that just wishful thinking? I hope not.

Enough.

ION ...

I broke my right pinky toe trying to jump over the Goose and his "cart" (see below):

OK. So maybe it was just my toenail, but it seems like a major injury and has prevented lots of things today (mainly cleaning up, but other things too like exercising, cooking, etc.). Why do little concentrated things like that hurt so much worse than say, LABOR? Four weeks after The Goose was born (sans epidural, sans demerol, au naturale in other words -- not that I'm bragging or anything ... I had a really short labor and a fantastic coach (Husband) who kept saying tremendously encouraging things like, "Kim, your red toenails are being touted as the best on the L/D wing!), I had to be hospitalized for mastitis and while I was there they discovered that I was also low on potassium. I had to have an IV potassium drip and Jesus H. Christ on a popsicle stick! I was skuh-reaming and writhing around and Husband was yelling for the nurses and finally one came in and turned off the drip. This is the same nurse who, prior to hanging the potassium bag, said, "It may sting a little." Just a titch. A teensy little sting.

I remember saying, "Isn't potassium what Dr. Kervorkian used to kill those people?"

She said, "I'm not sure" and left. When she returned, I was not in good shape. She kept saying, "Hon, I cain't suck it back up outta there, you're just goin' to have to wait 'til it runs through a little." When it finally stopped, I asked if there was any other way I could supplement my potassium stores (a crate of bananas?) and she left to go ask the doctor. A few minutes later she came back in with some orange liquid for me to drink. Oh, OK. Next time can I have the option of DEATH by POTASSIUM IV or kool-aid? Thanks.

My toe doesn't hurt quite as bad as the potassium drip or the baby delivery thingy, but it's getting close. Especially when I wear high heels like I did last night when we went OUT ON THE TOWN!!! Can you say Babysitter?!?!?!?!!? Can you say TO GODIVA FOR chocolate martinis? I CAN!!!

p.s. Am I starting to look (and/or sound) like Maureen Dowd?