Politics -- gag me with a spoon

I'm so sick of every person elected an office that I could scream. But I'm even more sick of all those blithering idiots out there who proclaim THEIR chosen candidate or party is right, yours is wrong and obviously destroying our country!
Guess what people: They ALL suck. Gone are the days of Washington, Jefferson, Franklin and Adams. There are no statesmen anymore, just used car salesmen with good speech writers. (Disclaimer: No offense to the good car salesmen of the world, I'm sure there are a few of you.)
No matter who you think is destroying this nation (Is it Obama and Pelosi? The Republican minority in Congress? Which side do you fall on?), the fault is entirely ours. We the People have allowed this union to become less perfect, not more. We allow politicians to sway us with beautiful oratory or a twangy southern drawl. We spout taglines like "Yes, we can" and "Change you can believe in" rather than becoming informed. Informed doesn't mean watching Fox News or CNN. Informed means not only knowing what's on a candidates platform but also taking the time to find out what he's done to support what those stances (How did this person vote on XX bill? Was he/she consistent or did they later cave to special interest group power or make a deal to get big bucks for come cockamamie project in their state in exchange for a vote on a bill they said previously they would never, ever vote for?)
Most important, however, is NEVER BUY INTO THE HYPE! For crying out loud, stop being so damn gullible. I hate to get all X-Files on everyone, but TRUST NO ONE (in politics). This goes for every side.
And please, stop listening to talk show hosts. Rush Limbaugh and everyone like him, on the conservative and liberal sides, are on the air solely to make money and entertain. Their jobs are NOT to inform the public. Why? Because that's not good television (or radio, whichever).
Ok, that's the end of my rant. Peace out.

Baby, I'm back

OK folks, let's try this again. Life is a little crazy, but I occasionally still have some thoughts I'd like to put down in writing, if only (as usual) for my own amusement. I know I've been away for a while, but I was busy making a family, damnit! Surely that's a decent enough excuse. (Don't worry, Dad, I can hear your response already -- "No it isn't, and don't call me Shirly!")
Now, now, now. Where to start? So many things to discuss, and so little time before I get too far into the sacramental wine.
I guess at least a brief update is a good place. On October 10, I got hitched. I walked down the aisle in all my 9-months-pregnant glory and married the first boy I ever kissed. My dogger, Mollie, was our ring bearer. My husband, brother and nephew wore kilts, like real men should. We had chicken fried steak, cause hey, didn't I mention I was 9 months pregnant? My dad, looking all handsome-fied in his suit, walked me down the aisle. And then we partied it up good, all in my backyard, which my amazing friends and family scrubbed down earlier that morning after days and days of rain had left it a muddy mess. My mother, crazy woman that she is, nearly killed herself turning the yard into a Fall Wonderland. It was the best wedding I've ever had the pleasure of attending, with a very close second best being my brother's wedding in October the year before. We Denby kids sure like that month, apparently. I attribute this to years of brainwashing from mom. (I kid, I kid....except not really, she loves all things fall.)
Seventeen days after the Big Day came the Even Bigger Day. On October 27, the most beautiful baby girl ever made got served her eviction notice (aka I was induced). Abigail Ruth was born at 7:14 p.m., weighing in at 7 pounds, 11 ounces and measuring 18.5 inches long -- and sporting a full head of dark hair and the cutest damn dimples ever put on a face. I'm not biased people, I'm stating facts. Trust me, I've done the research (and by research, I mean I said to my mom, "Doesn't she have the cutest damn dimples?" To which mom replied, "Of course!").
Not to get too mushy, but she's the absolute light of my life. Our little monkey girl (her nickname, "the monkey" is derived from the fact that she has monkey toes -- they're nearly as long as her fingers, I swear), is at the moment I write this chilling with Nana and Poppa for the night, hence why I'm distracting myself with bloggifying (and wine).
So where is this all going? It's going to bed...cause I'm exhausted! Tomorrow, I'm going to attempt to put together some even more coherent ramblings. Over and out.