The best thing about painting is that while doing a mindlessly repetitive activity you get to listen to great music.  Yesterday I heard "Pearl" by Janis Joplin, Dylan's "Blood on the Tracks," "Please Please Me" by the Beatles, "Raising Sand" by Allison Kraus and Robert Plant and CD's by Radiohead, the Strokes, and Steve Earl.  I was a Radiohead virgin...it was my first time listening to them..."OK Computer" was bleak but awfully good.

Yesterday we prepped and painted trim.  Today we roll.  Or that's the plan.  My back, legs, butt, arms, and even my hands are tired from yesterday's workout.  I swear even my boobs are tired from painting.  And I'm still feeling twombly from my many drinks around the fire pit while we celebrated turning off the lights.  Mike is still asleep; he was doing the real work with both the painting and drinking.  I don't think he'll be rolling until mid-afternoon.

What I enjoyed most about yesterday was that my husband and I worked together.  Usually we work in separate parts of the house.  When we have tried to do a major project, like painting a room, it ends in disaster.   He takes something I say as criticism and gets defensive,  I feel like I can't work at my own pace, and we both bristle when one asks the other to do something.  Something was different yesterday.  For once we were singing off the same page and between my alto and his lovely tenor we made some great music.

Happy Friday Everyone!  We're going to the symphony tonight, my favorite black dress is back from the cleaners and I'm wearing it, and today is a short day at work.  It doesn't get better than that.

Call me simple.  A little sunshine plus my favorite outfit equals one happy Carol.  Yesterday I wore an older suit which I'm starting to not like much and I grumped through the whole day.  I don't know how many times I was accused of PMSing.   I was, and I still am, but that's besides the point.  A nicer outfit makes me feel better whether I'm having my period or not, whether I have a cold or not, or whether or not I'm mad at the world.

If only I could make my husband understand just how important the right clothes are.  After 20 years of marriage he still looks over my shoulder at every clothing purchase.  I've even take to doing that cliche wife thing of just buying the shoes or the dress or whatever and hiding it.  (Who doesn't?) "Oh that old thing?" is coming out of my mouth more and more.

Men are from Mars when it comes to clothes.  They don't understand just how perfect is the perfect bag.  They don't understand just how necessary those new shoes are because they have an open toe and chunky heel.  I'm tired of pointy toed shows.  I love the comfort and the look of curved toes.   And just try to explain to them why you need three swimsuits--impossible.

So right now I'm dressed and ready for dinner and a concert.  I got at least three compliments on my outfit, one even from one of the (male) attorneys.  I live for those compliments.   Work is breezing by today.  Maybe it's the sunshine, maybe it's my outfit, maybe it's that my Motrin finally kicked in.  Whatever it is, I'm feeling fine.

Is Barak all hat and no cattle?  Is Hillary desperate, will she weep?  Will Bill stay on his leash?  Tune in for the next installment of the soap opera that is the Democratic race for the Nomination.

I haven't been a Hillary supporter, and I was greatly offended by her "3am phone call" spot.  Are the people of United States sleeping children who are to be watched over by Mother Hillary?  Obama says that by pulling together we can change this cynical culture.  Clinton tells us that she will watch over us and keep us safe.  Playing on fears and infantilizing the populace may be a way to win an election, but it is a terrible way to govern.  That's exactly the formula that resulted in the invasion and continued occupation of Iraq.

I'll be watching tonight.  In fact, I'll be glued to the tube--I can't wait to see what happens.   And tomorrow I'll read the Times and the Tribune and the Washington Post and the blogs to get the spin on why it happened.  There's something disquieting about my zeal to know.  Something distasteful.  I feel like I'm watching E! or reading People or the National Enquirer, not following a pivotal National Election.  I'm so caught up in the personalities of Hillary, Barak, and Bill that I refer to them by first name.  Even the candidates are doing it:  Hillary campaigns as "Hillary" because she figures campaigning as "Clinton" would be a sure loser.

I so want it all to change.  I want people to trust their government again.  I want big business to forced to be responsible--the marketplace and profit motive just encourages malfesance.  I want people to take responsibility to pay their own way and to realize that taxes are the price we pay for good schools and roads and parks.  I want cities and states to not have to lease their airports and roads to private companies for quick cash and I want to see an end to gambling as a revenue quick fix. 

Some people criticize liberals for even wanting Utopia.  They say the dream itself is dangerous as it invites limits on our "freedom."  If my freedom is to drive to a nearby casino where I can lose money to pay for the roads I drove over--I don't want it.  Nor do I want to be free from the tyranny of pubic schools or zoning laws or EPA Regulations or the myriad social protections the conservatives want to do away with.

Yes I want change.  And the biggest change I desire is for the restoration of a noble and uplifting word and idea--"liberal."