Chelleology

I don’t normally get caught up in missing child’s cases.  I guess it’s because most of the time they end up dead and it’s almost always a relative.  It’s like a bad re-run over and over.  You know how it turns out but you take note of their features so you can ID them if ever presented the chance.
But one missing child story caught my attention.  A huge part of it was how beautiful I thought the mother (Casey Anthony) was and how that missing girl looked so much like me when I was that age.  Then I was shocked and disturbed at how that mother could so calmly go about her life and not report her child missing until five weeks later.  She didn’t even report her missing.  The grandmother did.
Here are the things that make me think that she did something to harm little Caylee Anothy:
1.  The child was missing for five weeks before Casey told her mother Caylee was missing.  It was the mother who actually reported it to police.
2.  She lied to police telling them that she was dropped off at the nanny’s apartment.  When police got to the apartment, they discovered the apartment had been vacant for over five months.  She named the nanny.  They traced down a woman by that name but that woman did not recognize the photo of Casey or Caylee.  When Casey was confronted with a photo of the woman, she had no idea who it was.
3.  She told policy she worked at Universial Studios.  They drove her to the amusement park only to find out that she was fired in 2006.
4.  Her friends have described her a having a deceptive personality.  She’s stolen money from friends and even lied.
5.  A car that she drives that is registered in her parent’’s name was found abandoned with a foul stench coming from it.  A body was not found inside, though.
6.  She borrowed a shovel from her neighbor around the time that Caylee went missing.  However, the child was not found burried in the yard.
7.  Her parents say that they searched their daughter’s journal for clues and stated that there was a certain amount of jealousy held against her daughter.
With all the lies that she has told investigators, I had to chuckle when her lawyer stated to the press that Casey has been cooperating with policy.  I don’t know what it’s like in Florida, but lying to police is not co-operating!  She says she didn’t go to the police when Caylee first went missing because she was afraid that her daughter would get hurt like she had seen in the movies.  Huh?  How crazy is that?  She tried to do her own investigation by going to the bars that her ‘nanny’ frequented.  That makes me think she’s living in some imaginary world.
Her mother isn’t helping much either.  Can you say co-dependant?  The woman’s psycho-babble about  her daughter telling her story in code when police are looking for a cut and dry explanation.  What????  The mother becomes overly melodramatic when questioned about her daughter’s actions.  The woman knows that her daughter is not in the best light right now and yet she continues to make excuses for her daughter.  She isn’t helping find the girl by making these excuses.  Most people are going assume the daughter killed the little girl and simply not look for her.  
While my hopes are wanning on this, I still pray that they find this little girl alive and I hope that this young mother gets the help that she so urgently needs.  The grandmother, well, I hope that she soon realizes that she helps her daughter get the help that she needs and stops enabling her daughter.    

Doctors have repeatedly told me that I need to pace myself and not to over do it.  “Rest when you need to Chelle”, my doctor advised, “Rely on others to get things done or you’ll make yourself sicker”.  Being the go-getter that I am, I have a hard time believing that someone could get things done the same way I would get them done.  So, I don’t ask for any help and I certainly don’t always let on when I’m not feeling 100%. 
That brings me to how I ended up in bed!  For the past three or four weeks, I’ve had something to do just about every minute that I was not at work or getting the meager 6-7 hours of sleep a night.  This past Wednesday, I had a meeting with the Executive Committee of the Black Hawk County Republicans when I began feeling a tickle in the back of my throat.  That is usually my first indication that a case of bronchitis was upon me but I thought nothing of it.  In my mind, I could not possibly be getting sick.  My doctor prescribed two types of antibiotics to slow down the growth and irritation of my crohn’s disease. 
On Thursday, I felt an incredable thirst that I’ve never felt before.  I could not drink enough fluids and I began to feel a rumble in my chest.  Again, I ignored it and attended the monthly Central Committee meeting.  I never let illnesses slow me down when it comes to taking care of business.  I can’t rely on anyone else to get it done.  By Friday, it was a full on cough.  At lunch, I made the trip down to the cafeteria only to lose my appetite on the way there.  I suddenly could not eat and began to get light headed.  I finally agreed to go home around 2:30 and I napped until 6:30 when Scott and I ventured out to dinner and Barnes and Noble.
On Saturday, I did the ultimate stupid thing.  I continued on with planned events knowing I should have been in bed.  I got very little sleep Friday night due to a combination of taking a long nap in the afternoon and my constant coughing.  Still, I attended the Hudson Parade with the Walt campaign feeling faint and sweaty the whole time.  Then what do we do?  I tell Scott I want to go to the Arts Festival!  I huffed and puffed the whole time and after about an hour, Scott bought me a new bracelet and then insisted we go home and get me into bed.
Later, I had my massage at Elements which actually kind of eased the coughing for a couple hours but it started right back up around dinner.  I started shoveling Mucinex down my throat at this point and decided that I must finally rest if I’m ever going to kick this bronchitis. 
So, here I am in bed, thinking of all the things I need and want to do but can’t because I’m stuck in this bed.  I hate it because you are more likely to think about your aches and pains laying in bed than just getting out of bed, getting stuff done and ignoring your pains.  I’m aiming to get better by tomorrow morning so I can go to work.  There’s nothing worse than burning your time off on a illness than on an actual vacation.

It’s been a whirlwind of activity for me since last Thursday as I continue to volunteer on the Walt Rogers campaign, fulfill my delegate duties at the State Convention, attend executive committee meetings for the County Central Committee, and still work a full time job.  So, this is just a really wordy way of making excuses for why the next few days will be laiden with the back log of news going on in my life.

The State Convention was what I expected in some aspects and not what I expected in others.  I knew that even though Ron Paul had finally formally pulled out of the race, there would be some supporters that still would not give up the ghost.  So, I came armed with my list of Ron Paul supporters that I put together through spying on various websites.  This came in handy when it came to voting for delegates to the National Convention.  My friends and I found the list very helpful and we managed to keep all but one of them off the list.  Unfortunately, one eeked their way into the alternate list.  There was one non-Paul delegate there that I voted for as an alternate only to wish I hadn’t the next day.  I’ll get to that later.

Understand that my reasoning for keeping Ron Paul supporters off the delegate list was not an attempt to be mean spirited.  My reasons are two-fold.  First, most of the RP supporters had vowed publicly that they would ram as many delegates through the nominating process to get to National only to sit out the vote against McCain.  They stated that they would pretty much lie and/or omit that they were RP supporters and would support McCain.  Then do a complete 180 in September just to throw off the process.  Do a search under Ron Paul meet up groups and you will find the intricate details there.  Secondly, where do you imagine these RP supporters will be in October?  Sure, they’re out touting their Republican beliefs now, but come October, they will have abandoned us.  We have names for those people!  They’re RINOS!

There was one particular RINO there on Friday night that if I could have beaten him with a stick and gotten away with it, I would have.  It was obvious the guy (who ironically was on my list, hmmm) was trying to find a back door way to getting onto the delegate list.  He didn’t make it but he pissed me off because he was just trying to drag out the whole process by screaming “Point of Order” every five minutes.  Get a clue guy… your whiney little ass ain’t goin’!

Proud of what I accomplished and basking in all the praise I got from my nearest and dearest friends, we went out for alcohol.  It was a bad idea because I only got 5 hours of sleep for what was to be a long day of political games.

The next morning started with, not so surprisingly an uproar over rule 26 which pretty much states there shall be no nominations from the floor for delegates at large.  I knew when I was on the rules committee that it would be a problem.  Don’t get me wrong.  I agree with the rule.  I mean, we elect three delegates and three alternates from our own district and then we nominate a Nominating Committee to elect the at large delegates.  If you don’t think these people will pick the right delegates vote for someone else.  Otherwise, we’ll spend half the day listing to nominating speeches, candidates speeches and voting for all 80 + spots.  After debate and voting, rule 26 stayed and there was no suspension of the rules.

Then, they unveiled what would be the 22 at large delegates and the 22 alternates.  This is where that alternate from my district came in.  She made a huge stink about a guy who was listed as an at large delegate.  I was told just this evening that she and this particular person have ‘history’.  To make a very long story short, she aired their dirty laundry to over two thousand delegates and demanded that he be removed from the list and to substitute someone else.  She claimed corruption and lack of leadership against this person who I believe is a fair and intelligent person.  But she felt the need to get up and air their dirty laundry, with tears for good measure, and managed to get this guy thrown out and another got on.  Granted, I do value the person who was made the substitition but I feel that we have these nominating processes for a reason and I believe in the process.  You can’t just suddenly not like the process because you didn’t like the outcome.  This is the lady that I voted in as an alternate delegate and I suddenly wished I hadn’t.

Finally came the platform.  It was not as long and drawn out as I feared it would be thanks to the Platform Committee chairman who managed to get the delegation to vote to only go over the 13 amendments recommended by the committed instead of the 61 that were submitted.  Little did we know that 38 of the 61 were by one person.  Don’t think I didn’t note that for when I’m on the rules committee again.  I hereby pledge that at the next convetion there will be a new rule that no delegate shall sponsor more than three amendments to the platform.  Of those 13 we went over, 11 were from this Rutherford guy… surprise surprise, a Ron Paul supporter.  These were silly amendments that were so broad that if you looked at the platform closely, you would see they were already on there.  Some where just insane.  For example, the amendment stated we should be able to carry firearms onto National Parks.  Umm… would the White House not be a National Park?  So you’re saying I should be able to carry at the White House.  I wonder how our President would feel about that.  I am an NRA member and a huge supporter of the right to bear arms but even those rights have some small boundry.  My debate coach once told me “Your rights end where mine begin”.  I believe in our rights but our rights still have limits.

All in all, I feel like I learned a lot at the convention… one of those is to watch my back for the likes of people who might think I’m too conservative or up someone elses ass.  They might stab you in the back.  The bickering did not turn me off in the least and I’m even more energized to get me through the National Convention (as a volunteer) and on through the election.  

Final thought… people like to say there’s a lot of in-fighting within our party but let me say this… we are family.  As with any family, there is fighting and its up to us to decide Are we going to get a divorce or are we going to unite and fight the enemy?  This in-fighting does not exist just within the Republican Party but with any political party as we battle over what we think is best for our own party.

Blood tests and labs are just a way of life for me.  The thought of a needle in my arm or a flexible tube up my ass doesn’t scare me in the least.  I know for the remainder of my life I will poked at least 20 times a year.  Most days I feel pretty good.  Fatigue and stomach pains are normal for me but on days where the pain isn’t as strong and the fatigue isn’t as bad - that’s a good day. 
Last Monday, I went in for my blood work.  I suspected that it would indicate something was wrong because I had been more tired than usual.  I hoped that the labs would be normal and that my exhaustion was just from working overtime and doing political work.  I was not so lucky.  The doctor called today.  Everything was down, especially my hemoglobin.  The nurse asked if I had any rectal bleeding.  I laughed.  If I had rectal bleeding, believe me I would have gone to the ER.  The first time I passed blood, I almost waited too lates - almost passing out in the ER.  I’ve learned my lesson.  You see blood in the toilet, you go straight to the ER.
While they were concerned enough to call, they weren’t concerned enough to see me right away.  Instead they suggested I come in next week.  So, my appointment is for Tuesday afternoon. 
I’m not so much concerned about what’s wrong.  Actually, I’m relieved because then we know we need to do to make me feel better.  The only thing that worries me is what they are going to want to do.  Best case scenario would be that they take me off the B12 nasal spray and put me on the B12 shot.  Then do more blood work in a month.  Worst case would be that they want to peek inside my stomach to make sure my ulcer is not bleeding (which often seems to be the case when I have low hemoglobin).  Now, I’ll admit the drugs are good when they do the endoscopy and taking the day off work to sleep the entire day is good.  However, I’m not looking forward to the bill.  I’m still paying for my last trip to the ER and ICU.  I’m almost on top of it and planned on finally paying it off by January.  An endoscopy would surely add at least another 3 or 4 months.
Oh well, I guess along with the pokes and losing my dignity, I have to get used to high hospital bills.  As Scott often reminds me, there are far worse diseases to suffer from than Crohn’s disease.  I guess he’s right but it doesn’t mean I have to like being sick.

I’m certainly feeling the symptoms.  Every year about this time I get nostalgic for Wilmington.  I begin watching my Dawson’s Creek DVDs and One Tree Hill.  I flip through old photos taken on our multiple trips there.  I’m distracted at work by the photo of the Wilmington bridge that sits on my desk.  There are times where my eyes wander over to that photo and I just stare at it.
I never cared much for North Carolina.  My list of reasons are not many but the few I have are very strong.  But Wilmington stole my heart the first time I set foot in the town.  The beauty, the history, the mystery and the movies/shows that are there make it my #1 favorite place in the country and quite possibly the world.  This place has it all.  Beautiful beaches, incredible nightlife and a rich history!  You can spend the day at the beach and when the sun sets, you can go downtown and catch one of the Haunted Walks or Haunted Pub Crawls and spend hours at the bars.  The Dock Street Oyster Bar is something Scott and I talk about all the time.  The crab melt is the best I’ve had in my entire life!
But this year, our trip to Wilmington has fallen by the wayside like many things this year.  Unlike this year’s Waterstock Festival, which was canceled due to funding, we chose not to go to go this year due to our political schedule.  It’s an election year and we agree that politics is more important than feeling the sand in my toes.  Money plays a part in all this too.  Thanks to the recent decline in the airline industry and the price of car rentals and gas, a $4,000 trip has turned into a $6,000 trip.  We have chosen to save that money for our trip to St. Paul in September to volunteer at the National Convention.  I guess it’s an even exchange for being a part of history.  
I know we need to get out and see more of the world.  We’ve been talking about Ireland for some time but between saving money for that and Greg and Jolene not wanting to go until 2011, it’s going to be a few summers before we get to see another country.  We’ve talked about D.C. and Austin, TX.  I’ve tried avoiding the Austin, TX deal only because it’s the one place I intended to spend my life.  Visiting there would only be rubbing my face in the fact that I never accomplished that dream.  Maybe next summer, we can make up for time and go down to Wilmington for a few days to get my fix and then see D.C.   

Manhattan is a social hub of nightlife and excitement.  It’s full of crazy liberals though.  But it’s a place I’ve always wanted to live.  Don’t get me wrong.  Austin, Texas is where I’d like to live for the rest of my life if given the opportunity but Manhattan was a place where I would like to live for one year.  Perhaps I’d learn a little about myself and how to live in the big bad city.  Perhaps I’d leave shaking my head and thinking about what a bunch of immoral nuts Manhattan people are.
I contribute this desire to the small part of my personality where I’m a social being.  Some of it showed in college as I tried out the college party scene but I grew increadibly bored with carrying on pointless conversations about hair and makeup with girls and dealing with drunk boys hanging on me.  I quickly discovered that my scene was more one on one with a bottle of wine or cup of coffee.  I almost always prefer to stay home on a Friday night or even spend it at Barnes and Noble with a good book.  But in New York, I could see myself going to the classiest bars and talking to some classy people.  In my ideal world, I would be one of those classy people who knew just how to order a martini and how to work the room. 
However, often times, what we desire is not always what we get.  Years ago, I was a freshman at what was a small university at the time.  It was so small that there were no nearby bars, off campus we had only two places to eat within walking distance and Piggy Wiggly was the nearest grocery store (about a mile away).  The school comprised of just over 3,000 students and less than half lived on campus.  By the start of my sophomore year I was well known on campus.  I was a peer leader, worked on the newspaper and hung out with the music fraternity.  But it wasn’t enough.  I wanted more and my father was pushing me to aspire to be more. 
Things changed when I got accepted to a bigger school.  I was no longer a big fish in a small pond.  I was not even a blip on the radar amoung 18,000 students at my new university.  That was the first time I realized the world was huge and I was just a small fragment of it.  I became recluse - isolated from everyone.  I spent most of my waking time thinking about and wondering what my old friends were doing at my old school.  It didn’t take long before I realized I was easily forgotten as people moved on.  Somehow I couldn’t.  I was diagnosed with depression and after getting medicated, I began to claw my way out of my academic slump and prevented myself from flunking out.  Never a quitter, I pressed on.  I desired the bigger school but I realized that once I got it, I really wasn’t meant to be a part of it.
So, when I dream about a life in Manhattan where I stir with the socialites and work in big fancy buildings, I have to remind myself that I would likely end up feeling small, alone and sobbing on the subway.  To this day, I don’t regret going to a bigger school.  I did meet some great people along the way once I was feeling better.  It made me a stronger person and I feel that I’m more apt to adjust to my surroundings.  But still, there’s that small social butterfly within me that aches to be in Manhattan.