I never thought it would be true.  I mean, I didn’t grow up rich or with a great many amenities that justify this.  I lived my first seven years in a trailer park, for crying out loud.  But it struck me this morning when someone mentioned that a co-worker got a degree from a for-profit university and I cringed–I’m a total snob.

Snob Extraordinaire, The Queen.

Yes, education is a good thing to be a bit snobby about.  Not a ton.  Let’s be honest, I didn’t go to Harvard myself.  But I went to reputable schools with decent programs and accolades.  I got that traditional college experience and that non-traditional experience.  The Mister went to a for profit school and I often (probably to the point of exhaustion for him) tease him about it.  He’ll quite rightly remind me that despite his one degree to my three and my three traditional schools to his for-profit school, he’s making significantly more money than me.

Touché.

But this isn’t the only snobby thing I have.  I refuse to camp.  I don’t really care for the outdoors in that way.  If the outdoors were a person, I’d appreciate it from afar in most instances. Maybe I’d have a drink with it now and again, but I’d never invite it over to meet my family.  I don’t really want it knowing where I live.  So when we go somewhere, camping is always out of the question.  But so are really low rent motels.  I’ve stayed in some real shitholes in my day.  Some epic shitholes.  And at the age of 30, I just feel like unless I’m backpacking across Europe, I need some basic standards going for a hotel before I stay there.

This is as close as I want to get to the great outdoors.

When I buy bottled water for myself, I almost always require SmartWater or some equivalent brand.

I don’t really buy into Catholicism as a belief system anymore, but I refuse to try another church.  I don’t know if this is a snob thing or a traditions and rituals thing.

I haven’t had a non-smart phone in four years.  I had to use an old flip phone of The Mister’s awhile back and I nearly died a thousand deaths from not having access to the internet.

The only lip balm I will use is Nivea’s A Kiss of Smoothness.  And I will tell people who offer me something else how amazing this Nivea is and how wrong they are for not jumping on this bandwagon.

I’m totally against homeschooling except in very limited circumstances and even then the person doing the schooling should be required to have at least a bachelor’s degree and undergo constant education themselves.

I pretty much need air conditioning 24/7 in the summer.  (Part of this is allergy-related…but let’s be honest: not all of it is.)

When I see people make ridiculous grammar mistakes on Facebook I feel the overwhelming need to correct them–especially if I went to school with them and know full well what kind of education they have had.

I wince a bit when people admit to adopting a weird reading craze.  This is why it was so pride-swallowing for me to finally read (and enjoy) Harry Potter.  I’m a bit of a Hipster Cat when it comes to reading material.

I can't stand books where the movie poster is the cover. CANNOT STAND.

There is so much more.  But I don’t know where it all comes from.  Maybe it comes from some of the things I lacked as a youth.  Maybe I’m trying to make up for lost time with the right products and education and ALL the air conditioning.  I’m not sure.  What I do know, though, is that even though this presents problems at times (try getting a bottle of SmartWater on a campus bought and sold by PepsiCo) it also allows my mind to work on creative solutions for them (did you know that the store up on the corner carries SmartWater?).

I may never be without my snobby ways.  I may look down on someone who drinks Aquafina (sorry Mr. RMB, but you know Aquafina is the worst).  I may roll my eyes at the thought of staying at a Motel 6 (sorry The Mister, but you knew what you were getting into).  I may not ever be able to fathom living without cable or air conditioning or a flat screen TV (sorry bank account, you should be used to it by now).  But at least I can admit to it and work around it.

In the end, maybe it’s good that I don’t settle.  Even if these are small things, you have to start standing your ground at some point or you’ll end up on the edge of a cliff waiting to be pushed off into the unknown abyss of off-brand lip balms and unairconditioned motels.

And that, my friends, is a fate worse than death.

What things bring out your inner snob?

• Sorry for the sporadic posting around here last week.  Not only was it crazy because of the embryo transfer, but I also was blessed with a urinary tract infection due to the transfer.  It was a great 2-for-1 deal, and you know how I am about good deals!  Seriously though…hurt like a mother f*cker.  It’s better now, though.  Thank the baby lord jeebus.

• We had a big weekend at Stiggy’s Dogs at the Dog Bowl in Frankenmuth, Michigan.  It’s a festival all about dogs–there’s agility and disc dogs and rock and roll dogs Brooklyn the Dog proved to be such a well behaved dog. Not that I ever thought she wasn’t, but there were some really poorly behaved dogs there…and she was a champ.

Brooklyn at the Dog Bowl modeling our new dog bandanas.

• I need a haircut so badly it’s not even funny. My hair is growing into this weird mullet shape.  Of course, time is tight this week and next.  Why is hair such a challenge?  Why haven’t we conquered this thing yet?

At least if my hair were curly I could rock this A.C. Slater classic.

• It is ridiculously hot and humid out.  I always wonder how wild animals deal with this weather.  Do you think the birds want to just call it quits?

• Speaking of birds, I got a bird feeder a couple of weeks ago and it is now the new hangout for birds in the neighborhood–so much so that I’m hereby dubbing it The Peach Pit.  The other day, I was sitting outside watching the birds.  There are always a ton of tiny birds up there, but then a cardinal couple came and the male cardinal was being protective of the seeds.  It was all this drama.  I wonder if that cardinal couple are the bird version of Brenda and Dylan. I hope another female cardinal doesn’t come and ruin it when the other female cardinal spends a few weeks in Paris with Dean Cain over the summer.

The best couple ever.

• In an attempt to know more about the birds that visit the Pit (yes, I just shortened it), I bought this bird book from the Audobon Society.  I’m going to learn about some birds, y’all.  I guess it’s true what they say….BIRD IS THE WORD.

The Peach Pit from my patio.

What’s on your mind today? Who had a glorious long weekend?

Fact: I am HORRIBLE at relaxing when I don’t feel like it.  I get ants in my pants from the jump and can’t seem to sit still.  I tried to remember if I have always been this way, but I got bored thinking about it and started doing something else. End fact.

I had my big transfer day yesterday.  Two awesome grade-A embryos (sounds like I’m talking about eggs, doesn’t it?) were placed in my uterus.  Everything went smoothly and I was promptly escorted back home by The Mister.  I was instructed to engage in bed rest.  For those who haven’t been on bed rest before, it’s not as fun as it sounds.  A normal, healthy person gets bored laying in bed.  Even one of my all time favorite lazy movies (Napoleon Dynamite) wasn’t helping.  Eventually, around 8 pm, I got up and sat in the chair in the living room (feet up, no worries).

I’ve never been good at sitting still when told to do so.  Yes, there are days when I’m totally lazy…but that’s on my own accord.  Laying around (and literally laying) when it’s not my decision is a huge pain in the ass.

:”lkj.,kjl

^Brooklyn just typed that by putting her head on my keyboard.  Even she’s sick of me sitting around.  Join the club, dog.

Brooklyn was so bored and lazy the other day she rested her head on the ottoman while begging for food.

I get to move around more this afternoon.  A couple trips to the store.  Ms. MEPS and her son Mr. X are coming over for dinner.  Until then I’m sitting around on the computer, watching music videos on VH1. (I know, i was just as shocked that they play these, but apparently the morning is no time for Cage Fighting Wives or whatever they have going on now on this channel.)

Here’s what I’ve learned:

1.  Colbie Callait is as boring as I thought she was.

2.  ”Call Me Maybe” by Carly Rae Jepsen is still as addictive as it ever was.

3.  Someone still knows where to find the VH1 copy of Sheryl Crow’s “All I Wanna Do” and made me think it was 1994 again for a minute.

One of my all time favorite albums.

In closing, I have to say that I’m not cut out for this.  For chrissake, I just used the phrase “in closing” which I can’t stand. If I ever have to go back on bed rest I’ll need one of those Craftmatic adjustable beds, a ceiling TV and a mini fridge in the bedroom.

So I’ll raise a glass (of boring water) to all of the people who abhor being told to sit still…to all of those movers and shakers (on their own accord)…to all of those who hate laying around inside on a beautiful day outside…may we never be placed in situations that require our full committent to being calm and still.

And if we are, I pray for medical sedation for all of us.

• For the past week my right wrist has been killing me.  At first, I thought it was the onset of carpal tunnel in full force.  But as I described it to various people who know about carpal tunnel, they said it didn’t sound like it.  So I did some online research and found that it could be this thing called DeQuervain’s Tendinitis…it feels and acts just like how they describe it and it has been known to be exacerbated by hormones.  Hmmm…anyone around these parts been on hormones lately? I should probably go to the doctor, but I think one more doctor at this point might be the death of me.  Plus, the traditional management is NSAID pain relievers….which I cannot take right now.  I do have a prescription for wrist braces that should still be good.  Maybe I’ll try that out for awhile.  All I know is that I can’t lose the functionality of my right hand…I am a righty for a reason.  My left hand is fairly useless in everything except typing on a keyboard.

This is one store I'd have no reason to visit. (Unless it was to buy a gift for The Mister or Mr. RMB...lefties both.)

• Part of the reason I don’t want to go to the doctor is that every time I go see him, he makes me schedule a physical.  I am never assertive enough to tell him no and so I schedule it and end up missing it and getting a nasty letter.  I don’t need a f*cking physical.  I have my health monitored more than most 90 year old women, let alone 30 year old women.  I’m not against doctors in general or physicals in principle, I just know that if something were to be going on, someone would have caught it by now.

I'll get a physical if Zoidberg can do it. Just for entertainment purposes, though.

• The Mister got a tribble yesterday and has been bugging me with it for about 12 hours now.  Maybe a bit more.  A tribble is this mix between a Furby and a kitten that was used in a Star Trek episode back in the day (and again in a Star Trek: Deep Space Nine episode later when they traveled back in time).  God help me for knowing that information.  Anyhow, the damn thing purrs and squeaks and it won’t shut the f*ck up.  And it looks like it needs a good hot oil treatment.  I ended up chucking it across the house when it wouldn’t shut up while I was watching Game of Thrones.  Do not mess with my shows, damn you.

This is about the same look Brooklyn the Dog gave that thing when it started squeaking all over the place.

• Yesterday’s “Hot Slut of the Day” on Dlisted was Disco the Parakeet.  This video made me want a parakeet.  We had a blue parakeet that my mom got on a whim when I was a kid named Feathers. (The creativity in that name is overwhelming, I know.)  The damn thing turned vicious after she held it ever so tightly one day while my dad cleaned the cage.  When it’d get out, my brother and I would hide from it.  That thing would peck your eyes out without a second thought.  Trust me.

• After President Obama’s bold, much needed and important statement on gay marriage recently, all kinds of celebrities and leaders in the black community have come out to support gay marriage.  Even the NAACP has come out in favor of it.  (And they say his words don’t mean a thing…please.)  The worst voice of “support” though came from over-with rapper 50 Cent.  He thinks that in addition to gay marriage, we need support groups for straight men “in the case you’ve been on the elevator and somebody decides they want to grab your little buns.”  You know, because homosexual men are just out in force playing a massive game of grab ass and he’s their next victim.  I think he has himself confused with all women and homosexual men confused with straight men.

You know when this was cool? 2003. When's the last time you had a hit single, 50? No one cares about you enough to grab your ass. Get over yourself.

What’s on your mind today?

It’s a Monday…more than that it’s a Monday where I’m bloated and crampy and my f*cking wrist is killing me.  So although I’d love to write something really creative here, I’m just going to give a boring ol’ status update.

Calm down, Stewie. Hold in your excitement.

The egg retrieval went well on Friday.  It wasn’t until 11:30, so I had plenty of time to work up one hell of an appetite.  When I was done, I was STARVING.  I kept asking for some crackers and finally they gave me some if I promised to eat them slowly.  I really wanted to take them and eat them like Cookie Monster, but I digress.

An accurate depiction of how I wanted to eat the graham crackers they brought me.

I was feeling pretty good after the retrieval.  I even felt good enough to go get some IHOP before we went home.  I thought I was pretty bad ass.

I did not know it at the time, but it was all because the anesthesia was still working.  Later in the evening I started getting all crampy and bloated again.  They gave me some Tylenol 3 so I kept taking that, but I also kept getting headaches, which I first attributed to the anasthesia.  It soon became clear though (at 3:30 AM, no less) that it was this dreaded Tylenol 3 that was doing it.  Although I wasn’t supposed to take anything other than tylenol, I hit my pain threshold (and, believe me, it takes a lot of pain to get me there)and took two advil and an aleve and eventually went back to bed.

Perhaps I needed some Nuprin. Little. Yellow. Different.

The rest of the weekend was uneventful. They retrieved 15 eggs, 11 of which were mature.  (Apparently the other 4 were like that bad wheel of cheese in the Cheez-It commercials.)  Seven of the 11 mature eggs fertilized.  And as of yesterday, all seven were still kicking it in petri dishes at the clinic.  It looks like the transfer will be done Wednesday.  Unfortunately, for some reason that I’m not quite sure about (I think I heard something about the position of my uterus) they need to do the transfer with me under anasthesia.  So that’ll be another morning of starvation.  They really shouldn’t starve me…you wouldn’t like me when I’m starving.

Kim smash!

I tried to do a couple of loads  of laundry yesterday, but ended up over-exerting myself and paid for it at night.  But I’m at work today, even if I do feel like a 92 year old woman when I stand up from a seated position.

All in all, though, it went fairly well.  Now I just have to keep sending happy and loving vibes to those embryos at the clinic.  Think they’ll put the phone receiver up to the petri dishes so I can talk to them?  Give them a little pep talk?

Wednesday is your Independence Day! (Into my uterus...)

Hopefully they’ll be ready to move on into the cozy digs I’m preparing for them and sit tight for nine months.

They can just shimmy and shake on into my uterus.

Open Letters Friday is a segment here at PCL for your reading and writing enjoyment. I’ll share with you some of my open letters for the week and you’ll get the opportunity in comments to share yours. Now, tell me, who do you need to write to this week?

——————–

Dearest Ovaries of Mine:

Thank you for cooperating and producing so many viable follicles for this round of IVF. I was a bit worried there for a minute, but you came through with flying colors.  We need to make this round work and you stepped up to the plate.  Thank you for that.

I know that you haven’t always been right on time with anything.  Hell, neither have I.  But today we’re going to go against the grain a little bit and be just perfect at just the right time.  I’m confident we can do it.  You’ll give up a ton of little tiny eggs and I’ll reward you with a few days of rest (and hopefully 9 months of rest to follow).

We have a date at 11:30, my dears…a date with destiny that’s two plus years in the making.  Let’s make this one count.

See you on the flip side.

Yours truly,

Someone Whose Ovaries Usually Don’t Cooperate

—————-

Now it’s your turn!  Get things off your chest. And you can check out other Open Letters Fridays here.

And if you are interested in having your Open Letter featured on the next Open Letters Friday here at PCL, e-mail me atkim@perfectlycursedlife.com.

During IVF this time around, I’ve been listening to a guided meditation and relaxation program called Circle + Bloom.  The company makes several different programs like it for people trying to conceive or undergoing fertility treatments.   I hope it ultimately makes a difference, but it’s something I’ll never be able to truly measure.  What I can measure, though, is my relaxation and enjoyment of the sessions…and that has been much higher this time around.

The sessions last between 15 and 20 minutes.  I listen to them before I go to bed.  On the nights when I listen to them, I feel more relaxed and whole. (If that makes any sense…)  Sometimes I get distracted and the session isn’t quite as useful.  Other times I feel like I’ve just had a great spa treatment.

One of the common themes I have noticed in these sessions is the focus on forgiving your body.  It seemed rather silly at first.  ”Hello, body…I forgive you.”  In one of the more recent sessions, I was instructed to basically hug it out with my body.  I did it, feeling somewhat foolish, but somewhat comforted.  Until then I had no idea how much resentment I was harboring against this vessel that carries my mind.

Resentment for not being able to get pregnant the old fashioned way.

Resentment for not being able to sustain a pregnancy.

Resentment for having to run to the bathroom too often.

Resentment for chronic illnesses that give me aches, pains and worse.

Chronic Illness Cat speaks the truth.

Resentment for perpetually having the wrong levels of brain chemicals that causes my depression and anxiety.

Resentment for being clumsy as hell and having feet and knees that are constantly getting injured.

Resentment for not being able to easily have blood drawn without being poked in several different places. (Except for the Red Cross nurses….they are master’s of this domain.)

My hand yesterday...one of three places I was punctured to draw blood.

Soon it became very clear:  I’ve been harboring a lot of fucking resentment.  I can’t blame myself.  My body does often feel like it marches to the beat of a different drummer…on a different planet…in a different solar system…in another galaxy that is far, far away.

This did make me realize, though, how much resentment I’ve been holding against my body for making these past two years so difficult when trying to get and stay pregnant.  Part of it is due to the fact that I have little control over much of what it does and I have even less knowledge of why I miscarried the twins.  This resentment mixed with regret and an unwilling ignorance of the truth really has taken a toll on my mind and, likely, my body itself.

I am bad at forgiving certain things.  I know this about myself.  But the one thing I didn’t realize is how much resentment I was harboring for my own body and how much forgiveness would help me move forward.  Yes, it’s silly to give yourself a hug, but dammit it’s also silly to spend two years getting progressively more pissed at a body that is doing its best.  It would be just as futile to get pissed at the wind or the rain, except then the focus of my anger would be less damaged than it is now.

So I hugged it out and I continue to do so.  I’ve still been poked and prodded more in the past week than I can ever recall because my ovaries like to hide and my veins move once I’m poked with the needle.  I haven’t completely found forgiveness, but at least I recognize how ridiculous my resentment truly is…and how damaging it is to my entire being.

Forgiveness is hard.  Self forgiveness is harder.  But moving past resentment and being happy for those amazing traits I do carry with me?  That will likely take the rest of my life to accomplish.

But I’ll keep trying until I get there.

• Britney Spears and Demi Lovato have signed on to be judges on the U.S. version of The X-Factor.  Don’t get me wrong, I like both of them, but I don’t think it’s a good fit.  It’s nothing that’s going to get me to watch the show (it’s too much of a time commitment) and I don’t think it will help Britney’s career any.  It might help Demi’s, though.  So I guess good on her.

• I had a vet appointment with the cats yesterday afternoon.  Spencer, who is usually a great escape artist, was pretty easy to trap and contain.  Lucy, on the other hand, decided to make it her mission to not be found.  And she succeeded.  I ended up leaving her at home and being 15 minutes late to the appointment with only Spencer in tow.  She’ll have to go another time.  Spencer was really the one that I had concerns about anyhow (losing weight, seems to have arthritis or something preventing him from doing things physically).  He had some blood drawn that’ll be back today.  So we’ll see.

Not Lucy....Lucy was much more difficult to find. Like impossible.

• Oddly, Lucy avoided me at all costs last night while Spencer was all in my grill.  You’d think he’d be pissed at me, but he was all in need of attention.

Spencer after getting some attention, still staying in my line of sight.

• IVF is in full swing.  It’s down to the wire, so I’m getting blood draws and ultrasounds every morning now.  This morning it took three tries to find my veins.  Usually it doesn’t bother me too much (other than the waiting), but two of the spots they tried actually hurt pretty bad today.  I guess all of the bruises accumulating on my blood draw sites are finally starting to kick in.

An out-of-focus picture of my war bandages.

• Brooklyn the Dog had a big weekend/beginning of the week.  First, The Beast next door decided to be her friend now, so she’s even more in love than before.  Her BFF Amy the Dog (my parents’ dog) came over on Sunday (and tried to steal her man, but Brooklyn wasn’t having any of that).  And then last night she got to go meet Max, one of the dogs that I helped rehome after Ms. MM’s mother died in 2010.  Max and Brooklyn have the perfect temperaments to be together–a little bit of play every once in awhile mixed in with a lot of bone chewing and relaxing.  I hope she’s not expecting too much out of today, because she’s going to be sorely disappointed.

If you look closely, you'll see a black dog waiting for her crush to appear on the other side of the fence. (Note: She never laid here before in her life.)

• It turns out that Orlando, Florida–home of Disney World–is the city with the most porn sales and rentals of all major cities.  It’s not surprising.  After all of that ewwy gewy kids crap for days on end, some people just need to kick back and watch a threeway to balance out the sugary-sweet level of their psyche.

It's not gay if it's a three way. (Yes, it kind of is, but who the hell cares?)

What’s on your mind today?

It’s a Monday, my ovaries are the size of baseballs and my allergies are out of control.  Let’s take it easy this morning and listen to some tunes.

This song is so stupid.  That’s probably why I love it.  I can listen to it over and over on repeat, and I’m sure you know it by now, but I feel the need to include it since it’s pretty much always in my head.  I’d be lying if I didn’t list it here.  It’s “Call Me Maybe” by Carly Rae Jepsen.  I’d like to get the business card that Mr. RMB shared with me the other day that uses lyrics from this song.

I hate to say it, but I’m also obsessed with the new(ish) John Mayer song.  As much as I want to hate him for all the idiotic things he’s said, I end up liking his music every single time.   The video is kind of boring, but whatever.  It’s a good song.  Just minimize the screen and hit play.  I think this is the first time I haven’t been that attracted to him.  That long Johnny Depp hair doesn’t work for him.  (I think I’d totally still do him, though…racist penis and all.)

I haven’t been a huge country music fan for a long time, but every once in awhile a really good song hits me and I can’t help but love it.  Jason Aldean’s “Fly Over States” is one of those songs.  I’m not a big Aldean fan, save his song with Kelly Clarkson, but this song has that certain twinge to it that makes it extra beautiful to me…that twist of escapism and country stability that drives my inner cowgirl wild.  It probably has a lot to do with the steel guitar.

Jason Mraz is one of those artists that puts out a song every few years that hits me right in the heart.  His new song, “I Won’t Give Up,” is his 2012 attempt at stopping me dead in my tracks.  And so far, it has worked.  It’s a beautiful song and especially poignant for those of us who have been with someone for a long time, through a lot of ups and downs and who keep putting in the work despite the easy way being a viable option.   I’ve used the lyric video here as I find the lyrics to be the best part of this song.

 

 What songs are in your head lately?

Open Letters Friday is a segment here at PCL for your reading and writing enjoyment. I’ll share with you some of my open letters for the week and you’ll get the opportunity in comments to share yours. Now, tell me, who do you need to write to this week?

———

Dear President Obama:

When you first appeared on the national scene at the Democratic National Convention in 2004, I couldn’t stop telling people that you’d be president one day.  I wasn’t thinking that day would occur so soon, but I’m glad it did.  I supported you the whole way.  Hell, I even went to your innauguration and stood in the freezing cold to be part of the history you were making.  It wasn’t just that you were the first Black president, it’s that you were the first president in a long time that made people have hope.  In times like these, that’s a big deal.

Mr. CVD and I, half frozen, on January 20, 2009.

But politics got you down like it usually does.  Governing is much different than running a country.  I found myself getting upset with your capitualtion on various items.  I think health care reform should have gone farther.  (If they’re going to label it as socialism, at least it should look like socialism.)  I think the banks should have been punished more than they were for their part in the Great Recession and that banking monopolies should have been broken up.  I thought you should have put an end to the Bush Era tax cuts, not barter with them for unemployment.

Alas, you can’t always get what you want.

And then this week, perhaps, we got some of what we need.  In an interview with ABC News, you finally came out in favor of gay marriage.  You said your daughters changed your mind.  You said your stance on the issue has evolved.  You said that you finally see it as an equal rights issue.  And in that moment, and all of the moments that have followed, your words have inspired the hope of a generation again.

Now, I know it’s an election year.  And I know you should have come out on this issue a long time ago.  But you’re a politician–and those shoes don’t change direction easily.  Some are labeling this a campaign stunt.  Some are saying it’s meaningless.  Some are saying you’re declaring war on marriage.  Some are saying that so much more is needed.

I say it’s a step in the right direction–a step that I’m damn proud you took.

Yes, it is too little to truly change the lives of Americans, but at the same time it has sparked a fire of conversation and I’m finding out that more than enough people in my life are fine with gay marriage.  Sure, there’s still people against it (like the lovely state of North Carolina–at least the uneducated parts), but this is the first time a sitting president has come out in favor of LGBT rights.  You put your money where your mouth is with Don’t Ask Don’t Tell.  That was something you could do with your presidential power.  Unfortunately marriage equality isn’t one of those things.  That’s what makes your words simultaneously convenient and powerful beyond measure.

People can think what they want.  They can rejoice.  They can hate you.  They can take your words with a grain of political salt.  I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I’ll be proud of my vote for you and my confidence in your ability to change the conversation of a nation.

Oh, Fox News, always making life more interesting.

Politics is a nutty job.  That’s why I study it instead of participate in it.  There’s too much hedging your bet…too much compromise.  But to me, the brilliance of your words this week is the irreverance they had for the political norm.  Yes, it’s convenient because it plays to your base, but it’s also extremely risky because it will drive bigots to the polls to vote against you come November.  So, to me, it speaks volumes that you’d come out so clearly in favor of a civil right that some don’t see as a right at all.

We have so many other things to do, President Obama.  The War Against Women rages on.  There are thousands of veterans returning home that will need more than a parade and a thank you card.  There are millions of students that are unable to pay for college.  But this week, even if just for a moment, you stepped out for a group that has been trampled on for eons in a move that could cost you more than you’d think.

And that, my friend, is what I call chutzpah.  I’m glad to see you haven’t lost it.

Let's get keep this train rolling down the tracks of good decisions.

With much admiration,

A Proud Obama Supporter

——————-

Now it’s your turn!  Get things off your chest. And you can check out other Open Letters Fridays here.

And if you are interested in having your Open Letter featured on the next Open Letters Friday here at PCL, e-mail me atkim@perfectlycursedlife.com.