I need to ask you something....

When Gary walked into the room Debra put down her book at looked up at him. "Have you ever torn someone's clothes off of them?"

"What?" Gary was used to the randomness of Debra's musings but at times she still surprised him with the things she would say. This was one of those times.

"Well obviously before we were together. You have never ripped my clothes off so I was wondering if you had ever done it to someone else. It happens a lot in books. The couple is so enthusiastic they tear each other's clothes off. I have never torn nor had my clothes torn so I was wondering if you had."

"No, I have never torn someone's clothes off of them. That would just be weird. I can't wait to have sex with you so I am going to ruin what you are wearing. Doesn't that seem like a mixed message?"

"Hmm....maybe. But what if that is a level of passion that you are missing? What if you meet someone some day and think, I just want to rip their clothes off! What happens then?"

"I think I can safely say that I will never face that dilemma."

"How can you be so sure? I mean, it happens all the time! It seems as though there is a thriving group of clothes rippers all around us and somehow we just missed out on that piece."

"Did you want me to rip your clothes off?"

"Well, no, not now. Now I would know that you were doing it because you thought I was expecting it, not because you were just so ummm...enthusiastic you couldn't help it."

"Are you saying you are unsure as to my level of enthusiasm? I am pretty sure that you should be able to tell.  I mean, I might not be porn star enthusiastic, but you can't really miss it if you are looking directly at me."

Debra tossed a throw pillow at Gary.  "That's not what I am talking about! You know I am very happy with your ummm...level of enthusiasm...I was just wondering if somehow we had missed something in the passion department. And then was wondering if maybe it was just me. Maybe I am the only non-clothes ripper."

"Post it on Facebook as your status.  See what people respond."

"Seriously? You want me to post...I was wondering have you ever ripped off someone's clothes or had your clothes ripped off in a moment of unbridled passion? Don't you think that would be weird?"

"Weirder than this?"

"You are married to me, you have to put up with my weirdness. I am pretty sure it was in our vows."

"Yep, you are right, love cherish and put up with weirdness. It was right there."

"So it's a no for both of us. No clothes ripping even in our young and impetuous days. Maybe I will post it. It just seems like it wouldn't be in so many books if it didn't happen at least once in awhile. Maybe it's just a first time thing. And somehow we missed it our first time."

"Do you remember our first time?"

"Yes, of course."

"Do you think you missed something? Because I am pretty sure we didn't miss anything. It led to our second time after all."

"Well yes, but...."

"You were wearing that blue silk dress. It was so blue it was almost black but in the light you could see the blue. And it made your eyes look like the sky. We had been dating for three months. My friends couldn't believe we weren't already sleeping together but I already knew that I was going to marry you and I didn't want to do anything to spook you and make you leave. I wanted everything to go perfectly. To keep you safe and happy and secure and if that meant waiting three months to have sex, we would wait.

But we both seemed to know that that night was the night. You were in that dress and you had those shoes.  Do you remember those shoes? I had never thought I was a shoe guy before that but you wore those black shiny shoes...."

"They were patent leather pumps...."

"Yeah, those, and they made your legs look about two miles long. When we went back to your place and I got to unzip that dress and take you out of it...no way would I rip it. It was like unwrapping a gift on Christmas morning. Easing the zipper down your back exposing inch after inch of your pale white skin...Why would I rush that? I had waited three months for that. And then when you stepped out of the dress, still wearing your heels and your lace... And do you know what you did next?"

Debra smiled because she did know what she did next. She had hung up the dress in her closest. She had bought that dress that week just for that night. She had spent almost a week's salary on it. It was beautiful and fit her well and she knew that her date with Gary on Saturday would be important so she wanted to look perfect. But the idea of leaving that dress, that expensive dress, balled up on the floor? She couldn't do it so she had hung it up before they went any further.

"You turned to the closet and got out the fanciest hanger I have ever seen, it was padded and had a bow on it, the hanger was better dressed than some people I know, anyway, you got out this special hanger and you put your dress on it and hung it up. It was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. No, seriously, don't laugh, it was. You were in that black lace thing with those shiny shoes on, you turned your back to me to hang up the dress. And all I could do was just stare at you. I had waited three months of dating plus the year of being friends to see this. All of you. And it was worth the wait, believe me. Rip your clothes off? I am lucky I could make my legs work to walk back over to you. I am lucky my heart didn't explode out of my chest it was beating so fast. Debra, you are not a rip out of your clothes type of woman. You are an explore every inch of you slowly and deliberately before doing it all over again type of woman."

At that point Debra put her book on the couch and stood up. She held her hand out to Gary and said, "Let's you and me go upstairs and slowly and deliberately remove each other's clothes. It might not sell books, but you've sold me."

Hang ups...

Emerson had been working nonstop since he got the call last night. So many things had needed done in a very short amount of time. People he had to visit with. Documents that needed disposed of. And an entire house that needed to be relocated from the studs of the walls in. What a surprise that one will be for the bank when they foreclose. Opening the door to find they only have a shell of a house left. But that wasn't his responsibility. He had called in all of his crews for his part. He had taken care of what needed taken care of. That was his job. And he was the best at it.

Emerson had been the man to take care of everything for as long as he could remember. It had started out small. When he was in school he was the one who knew where the answer key for the big test was and how to get to it. He was the one who was never surprised by a pop quiz. There were no surprises in Emerson's world. Ever. He made sure of that. When he was in his 20's he became "that guy". You know the one. When you needed something done a friend would say, "Oh I've gotta guy." He was that guy. He knew everyone and everything. There was no problem he couldn't fix. No situation he couldn't get you out of.

Talent like that eventually catches the eye of people who need guys like that in their world. And Emerson became "that guy" to some very powerful people. He learned quickly that his particular talent and skill set could command a lot of money on the open market. He also learned that the people he was working for didn't like sharing talent so he could command even more money by keeping a closed market. But even though he had more money than he would ever need he still continued to work.

He liked the challenge. The puzzles that needed fixed. The pieces that other people didn't seem to see that needed moved to make sure everything ran the way they needed to. And that's how Emerson saw the world. A giant puzzle filled with pieces. Everything and everyone was just a piece to the puzzle. Something that needed dealt with to make sure the puzzle was always solved. Which wasn't easy. Imagine doing a 1000 piece jig saw puzzle in the middle of a tornado and you would get an idea of some of the challenges Emerson faced on a daily basis.

People didn't like to do as they were told. He discovered this very early in his life. He had a younger sister and realized quickly that telling her what she could and could not do rarely if ever worked, but getting her to do what he wanted by making her think it was all her idea always did. It was a good lesson for him and one he learned well. He was a master at getting people to do what they needed to do when they needed to do and be happy about it as well.

The only person it hadn't worked on was his wife. She seemed to figure out pretty early on in their marriage that he was guiding her decisions even when he was doing his best to make it seem as though they were all hers. She seemed to love to do things just to mess up his order. To make him sit back on his heels and have to start over again. And he thought that was probably why he loved her. She always surprised him. When the cancer took her away he looked at it as her one last "can't figure this one out can you?" poke at him, at his need to control the world and all the moving parts.

When she died he stopped working for awhile. His world had stopped making sense and he felt like there was no point to what he did. If he couldn't control the cancer that took his wife what was the point in anything else he did? He even went on a spiritual retreat to try and stop the buzzing in his head. When he met with the shaman he was expecting to see an old fraud who had figured out how to fleece the masses out of their money. Instead he met the real deal. The old man looked at him and nodded. "I see you."  I see you? What was that supposed to mean? I see you. Emerson had puzzled over that for hours. Finally he went to the old man and asked what he meant by that. And the old man told him again, "I see you."  Emerson said, "I get it, you see me. But what do you see?"  And the old man said, "Everything. Just as you do. We see everything." and then in a less mystical tone the old man said, "Now stop feeling sorry for yourself, take the lesson in humility the universe has just delivered and get back to work."

And that's just what Emerson did. He got back to work. With his wife gone and his focus renewed he found that he was busier than ever. So many things needed put back to right. He had only been gone for a few months but in just that time there were things that had started to slip. People making decisions based on their own petty selfish needs instead of what was best for the group. He commanded even more money and received more power and took care of more and more of everything.

And when he got the call last night from his boss that they knew everything he knew what needed done. He moved the people that needed moved. Shredded the documents that needed shredded. Met with the most likely weak links in their chain and had some deep discussions with them. Some of those ended well, some of those did not, but by the time he was through talking everyone was on the same page again. There would be a few months of down profits while the system settled back out, but all in all it was a good day's work. Things would run well again. The only piece that bothered him was that he had not seen this coming. There hadn't been any inkling of a leak in their organization. Of a pending betrayal. He didn't know who had called his boss with the tip off or why. Those pieces he would explore later. After he got some sleep. And he would find the answer. Things had been set right but they should have never gone off course in the first place and this bothered Emerson. And Emerson did not like to be bothered.

.....

"You're next."

"Come on, it's stupid, I don't want to."

"Chicken? Come on...it's funny. Sometimes people will start to tell you all of their secrets. It's like a soap opera on the phone!"

"Fine...."

*click* "Yes?"

"They know everything. What are you going to do about it?"

"Understood. It will be taken care of."

*click*

"Well?  What did they say?"

"That they would take care of it and then they hung up. See? It's boring! Let's do something else."

This house is clean....

Rebecca walked through the house with a sponge in her hand just to make sure she had gotten every last bit of dirt. She had scrubbed every surface, swept, mopped, dusted, vacuumed and shampooed the carpets. The house was the cleanest she had ever seen it. But still she wanted to make sure it was spotless. So one last walk through with the sponge in hand wiping at phantom dust spots here and there.

After she was satisfied that no speck of dirt had escaped her watchful eye she peeled off the Playtex gloves (she actually had gone through three pairs, she had cleaned so much she wore out the other two) and tossed them and the sponge into the trash bag she had sitting on the porch. There was nothing left in the house that could be considered dirty at all. The house was spotless. It almost seemed a shame to go back inside. To touch anything. To start the cycle over again. The accumulation of dirt and grime that would build up so gradually that she wouldn't even notice at first. Like the smear of grease from the peanut butter sandwich her last roommate left in his room. Even though she had said specifically on the lease agreement that there would be no food in the bedrooms.

Once you started bringing food into rooms other than the kitchen it was too easy to leave behind crumbs. And crumbs would attract bugs. Or worse, mice. And then you had not only the mess from the food but the mess from the animals. Rebecca realized she was clenching her jaw and starting to get tense just thinking about the mess her former roommate had left in her house. She took a deep breath and let it out. No sense getting upset now. The house was clean. She had set traps and cleaned out the bugs and the vermin. She had scrubbed every inch of every surface of the house and now it was clean. A quick trip to the dump to get rid of the trash bags and she would be able to sleep in her spotless house tonight.

If only she didn't have to get another roommate. If only she could afford to live on her own she could keep the place just as clean as she liked. It never failed. Every ad she placed to find a new roommate she specifically wrote that she was very particular about her house and wanted only someone who was also tidy to move in. When she would do the interviews with the potential roommates she would stress how important it was to her to keep the house clean. No food outside of the kitchen. No water spots on the glass shower walls. She would show them how to clean up the messes they left. She would tell them over and over how important it was to her to keep the house clean. And they would always ALWAYS end up making a mess. So she would have to clean up her own mess and their's as well. Maybe this next time would be the charm. Maybe she could find someone who respected her things, who understood her rules. Who realized that a messy house was the sign of a messy mind.

Rebecca threw the bag into the trunk of the car with the rest of the trash and started the drive out to the dump. She drove cautiously just as she did everything else. She was a careful woman. An organized woman. And above all a clean woman. Her mother had taught her that cleanliness was next to godliness. And that it was important to remember that there was a place for everything and everything should be in its place. When she was a child she had resented her mother making her stay in and clean her room when her friends were out playing but she grew to understand how important it was to keep everything just so. Just perfect.

Her friends at work would tease her by moving things on her desk. Not a lot. Small things like moving the stapler to the left side of her computer instead of the right. Adjusting her chair so she sat just a few inches too high, or too low. Lowering the blinds on the window near her desk so they bunched on the bottom of the window sill instead of hanging with a quarter inch of clearance like they should. Changing the rolls of toilet paper in the lady's room so the rolled under instead of over. They would giggle as she had to adjust and fix all of the little things before she could sit down to work. She knew they were teasing her and they considered this to be fun and good natured ribbing so she just smiled along with them while she put everything back the way it needed to be so she could work. But they also respected the job she could do. No one was more accurate with their numbers than she was. No one turned in work with fewer errors. No one kept them on deadline and on task like she did. Their department was the most rewarded and commended in the whole company and they all understood that it was Rebecca that made that happen. So though they teased her here and there they also made sure that it was never too much. Never more than she could fix in the first few minutes of her day. And never ever ever anything that would leave a permanent mark.

If only she could find a roommate that would do the same. It was always the same story with them. There was the young executive who thought the house was just darling and loved the back yard. It was perfect for laying out and tanning. She never ate anything so the food wasn't the issue, but she would track her suntan oil through the house. Touching things with her greasy fingers. Leaving an oily film in the shower. On her bathroom counter. The last straw had been when she decided to try a self tanner in the middle of the winter and left an orange stain on the washcloth. When Rebecca confronted her with the stained cloth she just said to throw it away. It wasn't that big of a deal. But it was a big deal! It was just an outward sign of the lack of respect she had for Rebecca's things. So she had to go.

It was always that way. Small things at first. Toothpaste left in the sink instead of rinsed down. Water spots not sprayed and wiped with the squeegee that hung in the shower RIGHT THERE so you could use it as soon as your shower was over. Laundry left in the dryer instead of folded and put away. Dishes in the sink. Food in the living room. The list could go on and on. She would remind them, leaving notes, talking to them when she found a mess and they would always smile and apologize or at least they would at first. Eventually they would decide that it was Rebecca who had a problem, not them. That they were normal and she was some sort of neat freak. And then they would start making messes just to antagonize her. A magazine left on the couch here, a bag of trash not tied with a double knot there. And then they would have to go and she would have to deep clean the house again and start looking for a new roommate.

When Rebecca made it to the dump she took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders. No need to be tense. Her house was clean. Once she got rid of this trash she could go home and sleep in her perfect house. As she drove past her mother's old house and the old barn she realized that if she sold all of this land she could afford to live on her own. But if she did that then she would lose access to her dump as well and Rebecca liked knowing she had a place to bring her trash that she could keep just the way she liked. No mounds of stinking garbage here. Just nice and neatly buried piles. Even trash should be treated neatly and disposed of properly. She went to the old barn and got out a shovel and grabbed a bag of lye from the stack. As she dug the hole to put her old roommate in she thought...a place for everything and everything in its place.

Well aren't you smart?

I can read a book in a day. Easily. A really great weekend for me is one where I just sit and read and finish off two or three. But those are books. I just finished a book that took me three weeks to read and it was only 180 pages or so long. But it was a Book not a book. And I have to admit that most of what I read washed right over me in a "well that's interesting" sort of haze, but that's okay. The book was The Grand Design by Stephen Hawking and Leonard Mlodinow and I am more than comfortable not being as smart as they are.

The first thing that usually happens when you tell someone that you aren't smart, or that you don't understand something is that they try to buck you up by telling you just how smart you are. Or that you do get it and you just aren't giving yourself credit. And I totally understand this urge. That desire to make someone feel better about themselves. But honestly, if I tell you that I don't get something or I am not smart enough to understand a concept, I'm okay with that, I'm not looking for a compliment. It doesn't mean that I think I am dumb. I know that I am pretty intelligent. But I also know that if you consistently find that you are the smartest person in the room you need to find a better room.

Challenging yourself and what you think and why you think what you think is important. And expanding the base of what you know about is as well. If you only stay in the circle of information you know without adding to and growing that circle it's going to get pretty stale. Like a pond with no fresh water supply. But that also means being okay with the times that you hear about something that interests you and you look in to it further and find that it's really sort of beyond your grasp. You have options at that point, you can build your base knowledge and come back to it later, you can walk away from it completely thinking it's just not for you, or you can take what you do understand out of it and go on from there. The last is what I usually do with Hawking's stuff. When I hear him lecture or read his books or his articles I know full well that most of it is going to be above my head. But there is always something in there for me to grasp on to and puzzle about. Something that is going to make me think harder than I have been. Something interesting! And that's good enough for me.

I am very comfortable admitting when I don't know something. I'm comfortable saying that I don't have all the answers. I'm an agnostic who is registered "unaffiliated" after all. But I will keep looking and learning and finding things that are interesting and for me that is enough. A friend of mine uses the expression, "you don't know what you don't know" and I like it a lot.

He uses in decision making, that basically you do the best you can with what you have, but "you don't know what you don't know" so you can't make decisions based on what you don't know and even later when you do know it, you can't go back and change what decision you made in the past before you knew what you now know. (Did you follow that at all?) Anyway... I like it for me and my life.

I don't know what I don't know but I do know that I can know more, you know?

Scientific theories, good news and bad news and being a good neighbor....

So yesterday I had a working theory all day that since the Fourth of July fell on a Wednesday this year people wouldn't be up until midnight shooting off fireworks. It was pretty sound reasoning. In the years where the Fourth is on a Friday, Saturday or Sunday (Sunday meaning most end up taking Monday as the holiday) the celebrations tend to start early and last for a very long time so my reasoning was that unless you took a vacation day for today you were going to have to be back at work so you wouldn't be up as late.

The problem with scientific theories is that no matter how sound your reasoning appears you don't know your answer until you test it out. And when you test it out you find that you missed a crucial piece like...people like blowing shit up no matter what day of the week the holiday falls on.

The good news in this equation is that the economy seems to be picking up. Fireworks are expensive. Especially the big illegal ones. But that didn't seem to be any sort of hindrance to the neighborhood last night. The people that live to the west of us and the people that live to the south did their annual scofflaw  patriotic display and had enough to shoot them off not only at 10 but to do a second round at 11:30 just when everything was finally starting to quiet down and George had just stopped freaking out and I thought I might actually get to sleep.  Oh lucky me. More patriotism! And the even better news is all the houses in my neighborhood are still standing this morning. Another year, another year with no fires.

The bad news in all of this is of course the aforementioned cat freaking out. Anyone who has a pet (or child) that is freaked out on the Fourth knows what a special joy this is to deal with. Now George isn't as bad as some. We had a dog growing up that would pee every time she heard the boom so at least we just have crying George instead of peeing George. But it will take at least a day for him to settle back down. There has already been vomit comet action this morning, crying at doors to be let in, lap sitting, jumping at every little noise and movement,  hair licking, and on and on. When C and I leave for the gym I imagine he will freak out again. And when you add his neuroses to my lack of sleep it's going to be an awesome day.

The good neighbor part of the blog title? That's the part when I don't go stand in the middle of the street when the alarm goes off at 6 am and shout..."HAPPY FIFTH OF JULY!!!!  IT'S TIME TO GET UP AND GO TO WORK NOW!!!!!  YAY!! YAY!!! YAY!!!" and then go inside and get some pots and pans to bang on and repeat it all about 6 or 7 times.  Then do it all again at 7 and at 8. Because I'm a good neighbor. It's also the part where I don't call the cops on you. Brent and C both have told me I should. Because I can't stand it. This year has been a super wet year so the fire risk is pretty low, but growing up in a desert sitting and watching people shoot sparks over other people's houses makes me incredibly nervous. And as I mentioned, it's illegal.

But it's only illegal in Oregon, not Washington and for some reason that 15 minute drive over the border doesn't really deter people much. And as it's the only crime I can think of where you literally shoot off a flare to let the police know where you are while you are committing it and you still get away with it every year I am guessing it's not a high enough priority for the cops to do anything even if I did call. And honestly if the resources have to be split between illegal fireworks and idiots who have been drinking at their picnics all day now thinking they can drive home? Well...go for the drunk idiots and leave the firework idiots.

Now don't get me wrong, I love a good firework display. The one in New York is beautiful even on TV. Two years ago we went to Disney over the Fourth and that was spectacular. I've been to Sea World and seen theirs, awesome, Melaleuca put on one annually in Idaho Falls that was fantastic and the first one I ever went to where the music and the fireworks were coordinated (this was before C was born so over 20 years ago). But face facts, the ones that shoot up in the air that you can buy over in Washington aren't that pretty. They are kind of pathetic really.  Stick with your fountains and sparklers and leave the big in the air ones to the professionals.

And now if you'll excuse me I am off for more caffeine and another "don't go outside and wake your neighbors, that would be rude" pep talk.

Happy Fifth of July everyone!

And then there was this....

Last night I had a dream that Brent and I played on a professional co-ed basketball team and my nickname was Google Doodle because I am so little...

Happy 4th of July, everyone! I hope you have a great holiday!

The American Dream...

If you Google The American Dream is Dead you will get a whole list of articles to back up that claim. I know that because I was looking for an article I just read in Time a few weeks about about the death of the American Dream and when I went looking for it I didn't find the article in Time but a whole host of other articles. And I just spent a very depressing hour and a half reading them.

Seems like the American Dream is dead because we have gotten too liberal in our belief systems, we don't stress the importance of marriage and having a father in the house and it's dying because our schools are failing because we are spending too much money on wars and the conservatives want to send what funds we have left in to a voucher system so that the kids and money that could be used to improve our public school system will go towards private schools which will only widen the gap and keep more and more people from buying a house which they can't afford but got approved for anyway because there wasn't enough regulation in the banking industry which led to the collapse of Wall Street which can only recover if there is even less regulation I mean more regulation no wait, I mean less regulation and we allow or don't allow them to be too big to fail or not fail and if we could strengthen the unions or weaken them that would surely help and....

Are you sort of getting my point here? You can read any number of articles on why the American Dream is dying and they all point fingers to different issues. It's not our fault, it's theirs. It's not their fault it's them over there. And the more I read the more I started to wonder, what the hell is the American Dream anyway? I mean seriously. We've all heard it tossed around all of our lives, but what is it? Do we all have the same one? So I looked that up as well and this is what I found:

a·mer·i·can dream
noun  The traditional social ideals of the United States, such as equality, democracy, and material prosperity.

and this (from Wikipedia):

The American Dream is a national ethos of the United States; a set of ideals in which freedom includes the opportunity for prosperity and success, and an upward social mobility achieved through hard work. In the definition of the American Dream by James Truslow Adams in 1931, "life should be better and richer and fuller for everyone, with opportunity for each according to ability or achievement" regardless of social class or circumstances of birth.

The idea of the American Dream is rooted in the United States Declaration of Independence which proclaims that "all men are created equal" and that they are "endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable Rights" including "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

Okay, so now we know what it is. Sort of. And this is where it gets tricky right? This is where the basis for all of the other arguments come from. What is equality? What is the opportunity for prosperity and success and upward mobility? When does it become so difficult to escape your situation that the opportunity becomes an improbability? The regardless of social class or circumstances of birth part is especially hard. And then there are those that will point at the "hard work" portion and scream about people wanting everything just "given to them!"

Well to that I have to say that the funny thing is the jobs I have had in my life where I worked the hardest, I mean physically drained at the end of the day, sore feet, sore back, sore head were the ones where I got paid the least. So financial prosperity through hard work doesn't always happen. Yes, there are always people you can point to who came from poor backgrounds and worked themselves up the chain and are now business owners and quite successful, but let's be honest here, you can point at people who were born wealthy, had every opportunity and are now broke as well. So does that mean anything? To point to the outliers?

And what is better? My better could be your worse. We all know people who complain about being broke or how tight things are who drive nice cars, go on fabulous trips, are always going to see the latest band or try the newest restaurant and we think, "I'd like to be broke like you." And there are people who are quite content with what they have because it's "enough" but you might think that their "enough" just isn't.

Brent and I had this discussion a few months ago. I am really happy with where I am in life. I have a lovely house, a nice car that starts every time I need it to, money in my pocket, food in my belly and I don't sweat the bills or the bill collector showing up at my door. This is upward mobility for me. I'm doing much better than I ever dreamed I would. My reality growing up was working more than one job to barely make ends meet and many months they wouldn't. Driving a car that you had to start with a ritual and a few lighted candles and prayers. So my American Dream seems to be working out.

But what about my son's? What will his be like? He's two years into a four year degree, which is more than I have so he is better off there. But it's less than his dad's MBA so he is worse off there. We have no idea what the job market will be like when he graduates but are hopeful he will find a position in the field he loves. Will he make more than his dad and I did? Depends on what time you take the snapshot of what we made. At his age I was in college getting my accounting degree and his dad was in the Navy. When he graduates he will be the age we were when I was working as a full charge bookkeeper and his dad was still in the service. Will his job make him better off than we were or worse? And when do you start counting? Will he be able to own a house? Will he even want to? What about his kids?

And if we go back to the definition of the American Dream (which isn't it funny that the definition didn't come about until the 1930's was there no dream before that? Sort of blows the whole "founding father's wanted this!" argument out of the water doesn't it?) and it says, "better, richer and fuller" and why do we automatically assume that means money? Can't your life be better, richer and fuller without it? By doing things that make you happy? There's that pursuit of happiness angle as well. We have the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. There is nothing in there about the right to make more money than everyone else. Why do we always assume it's money that drives the dream? Are you really happiest when you are at the bank? For me I am happiest when I am at the beach. Or on the couch. Or eating a brownie. Or laughing at a funny movie. Or listening to my husband and son riff on the world to the point where I am giggling like a fiend. Or sitting at my computer rambling away in my blog while the birds are eating at their feeder outside my window and my cat is sleeping in my lap

So I don't have any answers for you but just questions. What is YOUR American Dream? Or your Scottish Dream? Or your Australian Dream? Or Canadian Dream? Or your (fill in your country here) Dream? And do you think it's dead? And if it is what can you do to revive it and would that then make them Zombie Dreams?

To my American friends I hope you enjoy your 4th of July celebrations tomorrow and I hope for just part of the day you are experiencing your right to pursue happiness. Actually, I hope all of my friends have that tomorrow. You just might not get the fireworks with it....