Women love shoes. That’s a gender stereotype I’m in no position to argue with. Granted, I only own 6 pairs, and they came from Overstock and Zappos not Madison Avenue, but I lust after them in every store I browse. When I was a college sophomore, I got my first male compliment (unrelated to my bust size) from the boyfriend of one of my dorm neighbors. I can still remember it word for word. “Wow,” he said. “You have great legs. Mind if I just sit here and watch you walk?” And I still remember the shoes; 4 inch heeled taupe pumps with a sexy little ankle strap and rhinestones on the clasp. That was 25 years ago. A women doesn’t forget things like that.

Shoes are good for the soul (no pun intended). Even when I’m feeling fat, I can always find shoes in my size that look great. Over the years I’ve worked out a compromise with my body. Most of the time go barefoot or wear sneakers, but when I dress up, it’s always heels, the higher the better.

That said, I’m shocked by a recent trend. As if it’s not enough for us to worry about the aging appearance of our faces, stomachs and genitals, we now have the option of having cosmetic surgery on our feet so they’ll fit our shoes, rather than buying shoes that fit our feet.

From the Spokeman-Review:

“About 90 percent of my patients are women between the ages of 25 and 65 with foot pain from heels,” says Joseph N. Daniel, an orthopedic surgeon at Albert Einstein Medical Center in Philadelphia. Most of them wear shoes at least a size too small and so pointy that toes jam and blister and bunion.

[snip]

“About three years ago, maybe 20 women called me for cosmetic surgery for their feet, and now I get about 150 calls a year,” says Daniel. “There’s just a greater awareness of their bodies and people are striving to achieve perfection from head to toe.”

In some cases, women are actually having their toes, particularly the second toe, shortened so as to enhance their “toe cleavage.”

Sean Ravaei, a Philadelphia podiatrist who performs cosmetic foot surgeries, said he’s received 20 calls from high schoolers, just wanting to have perfect feet for the prom.

“They want toe-lengthening, toe-shortening, they want their foot wider or narrower – you’d be surprised at what people ask,” he said.

Maybe we haven’t come so far from ancient China and foot-binding afterall.

Before I moved to Spokane 21 years ago, I went to the library and did a search in the old bound volumes of the Guide to Periodical Literature. I found only two topics listed, both of which were written up in Time Magazine: Kevin Coe, the South Hill serial rapist whose mother tried to have the prosecutor killed during his trial and the eruption of Mount St. Helens. Were someone to google the city now, they’d find a third topic–Spokane Mayor Jim West.

Since he was outed by the Spokesman-Review, Mayor West has been playing Hide and Seek with the local press, as well with as groups urging him to resign over allegations of abuse of office and pedophilia. Yet somehow he found the time to take his case national with an appearance on the Today Show this morning.

West had this say, quoted in the Spokesman Review:

“My mail and e-mail have been running two-to-one in favor of me not resigning,” he said. “You shouldn’t be run out for just simple allegations.”

“I think I can survive this,” he said. “We’ve made some great progress in Spokane and we’ve got a lot more to do.”

He presented himself as beleagued conservative under siege by false allegations, claiming his anti-gay legislative record was not his own personal views but those of his conservative district, with himself as the passive conduit.

“I was not a leader of the charge,” he said. “The majority of people in my district, that’s the way they feel.”

West made a distinction between his personal and political life, saying that it’s possible for someone who lives an “alternative lifestyle” to be a conservative.

“I’m not a closet liberal trying to be conservative,” he said. “Can a gay or bisexual person be conservative? Can a black person be conservative? Can a Hispanic person be conservative? I think they can.”

Whoa. Silly me, I thought the charges under investigation had to do with his offering government interships to 18-year-old boys to entice them into sexual relationships, not the color of his skin. As for the truly ugly charges–child molestation in the 70s–it would be stretching that analogy to the breaking point to call him a “minority.”

And his statement about an “alternative lifestyle?” Poor guy. It must have taken herculean effort for him to overcome that definition and cosponsor a bill which would have barred gays and lesbians from working in schools and daycare centers and required sexual orientation background checks on all employees.

This comes on the heels of an interview he granted to Time Magazine for the 23 May 2005 issue. If I were a suspicious person, I’d wonder if he is positioning himself for a national political run under the supposed Republican “Big Tent.” I can see it now; local mayor persecuted for his sexual orientation becomes icon for minority Republicans everywhere.

Bright and early tomorrow morning I’m off to McMinnville, OR for Julia’s college graduation. I’m so proud of her; she’s grown into a thoughtful, intelligent, sensitive, beautiful, loving young woman, everything I ever hoped she’d be and more.

When I was the age she is now, she was laying swaddled in my arms, my first miracle. But the years somehow disappeared and she’s all grown up now. In August, she’ll be packing up for Tucson, AZ and the masters/PhD program at the University of Arizona. She’s taken charge of her own destiny and plotted her own course, and even though it’s taking her far away from me, she’ll always be my baby.

I love you, Julie.

Most of you know that I’m a hopeless Seattle Mariners’ fan, so it should be no surprise that I have a dog named after one.

When I found my Edgar in a cage at the Spokane Humane Society, I wasn’t looking for a puppy. Thor had been dead just 3 weeks and I was missing him terribly–I still do–so I drove up to spend some time talking to the older homeless dogs with the possibility in mind of taking one home for his final years. There were so many Shepherd mixes, so many wise sad eyes … it was overwhelming. I wanted to adopt them all.

So to distract myself, I went to the puppy room. Cowering in the back of the cage behind 7 brothers and sisters was the most worried face I’d ever seen. Instantly I thought of Edgar Martinez, the Mariners’ designated hitter. While the rest vied for my attention, this one little guy kept getting shoved aside until he landed butt first in the water dish. But he picked himself up and shook his butt, then dove right back into the pack, trying to get to the front, never giving up, just like THE Edgar. I got him out to hold him, and he promptly peed on me, but I was hooked. I took him home anyway, and named him Edgar, after that stalwart ballplayer who worries about all his teammates, and never gives up.

Olympia was beautiful. I’d forgotten how much greener it is on the other side of the Cascades, with 12 foot tall rhododendrons, wild flowers blooming everywhere and not a Ponderosa Pine in sight. Since the legislature was not in session and the state supreme court was on the road, traffic was minimal on the capitol campus making it lovely to walk around.

Security was practically invisible; guards were outnumbered by pages acting as tour guides and the metal detectors were gone, removal finished on Monday, I was told. The only nod to heightened terrorism awareness I saw was the area by the front doors of the legislature, once a drivers’ pull-through, was cordoned off by cement flower planters.

The day opened with a formal meeting on the floor of the House, where a group of speakers read proclamations praising the kids which had been passed earlier in the month, before the end of the session. Then the large group split up into 5 special interest sessions on various aspects of state government–we attended the one on the state supreme court, held in the Temple of Justice across the street. I wish there’d been a program like this when I was in high school; I may have ended up going to law school.

Lunch was a fancy affair at the Red Lion Hotel ballroom and Gov. Christine Gregoire gave the keynote address. Overall I was quite impressed with her; she was sincere, low key and quite well-spoken. I’d give her a 85 on the personality scale, with a 0 slime-factor, putting her close to my political hero the late Harold Hughes, Democratic senator from Iowa in my youth. I’ve been a Gregoire supporter since she first ran for Attorney General in 1992, so it was nice to have my initial impressions reinforced. Our 4th District representative didn’t attend, though most of the west side reps. did.

It was definitely worth the trip over. All the staff and officials went out of their way to make the kids feel valued and appreciated, and it went a long ways toward making them feel invested in the government process. The $3 million price tag on the program is well spent, I believe; it guarantees the top 147 students stay in-state for college, no small achievement in Washington. Sadly, though, the program fell victim to budget cutbacks in the just concluded session so that next year only 98 students will be funded.

I think Meredith will remember this day for a long time.

In a couple of hours I’m off to Olympia for Meredith’s Washington Scholar banquet at the capitol. Be back on Thursday!

Superior Court Judge Brian Gain ruled this week that Judith Mawson, ex-wife of convicted Green River Killer Gary Ridgeway, is free to write and sell the story of her life with the notorious murder because the state’s “Son of Sam” law does not prohibit family members from profiting from by the crimes. Family members, said Gain, “shouldn’t suffer because of the actions of the individual.” Even when those actions give them 15 minutes of fame they can turn into cash.

Kathy Mills, the mother of one of Gary Ridgway’s victims, Opal Mills, had filed suit seeking to force any proceeds from any such a contract to benefit the sort of defenseless young women Ridgway preyed upon.

This should give us all pause. In the coming years, I believe there will be no shortage of books and movies about Ridgeway and someone will be making a hefty load of money from them. The public has a morbid fascination with evil which feeds a multi-million dollar True Crime industry; witness the upcoming Amber Frey movie which will play Wed. May 25 on CBS. I think it’s no coincidence that CBS is running it during high viewership “season conclusion” week when it can charge high advertising rates.

Intellectually, we all seek an answer to the genesis of evil in such creatures as serial killers. Perhaps if we understand it will let us conquer our fear of random violence which can snatch away those we love without warning. But there are no answers to be found in these books and movies, only endless regurgitation of the victims’ families’ pain. At some point we have to just say no.

I won’t be buying Ms. Mawson’s book, when/if it comes out. Neither will I watch any of the movies or read any of the magazines which promote the True Crime genre. I won’t allow myself to be a party to those profiting by others’ pain. I hope you’ll do the same.

In her post yesterday, Tish asked whether I had yet decided what to do about splitting up my journaling. That would be an easier question to answer if her own honesty hadn’t made me think so deeply about my motives. Tish has a gift for doing that.

First a little history. When I started my first web journal way back in 1998, it was strictly about writing. One of the benefits of an Sff.net membership was webspace. Sff was a small, tightly knit community of science fiction writers; we hung out in chat together, submitted to the same publications and generally knew each other in real life. A handful of us started online journals to track our submissions, and to encourage each other in our work. The word Blog hadn’t been coined yet, and web-rings were just beginning to become popular, hence our name, Not-A-Web-Ring. As the group evolved, our pages functioned more like a bulletin board than today’s blogs, with running discussions between the pages on various aspects of writing. The work was what we had in common. I don’t think any of us thought very much about anyone outside the group reading it — it was very much a closed circle with a shared reality. After awhile we branched out into chatty stuff about our daily lives, but writing was still the core, and the things I posted came from that perspective.

We all grew and changed and evolved, and eventually I started writing in this format without thinking very much about what I wanted to accomplish by it. I had a vague notion of a soapbox where I could Do Good Deeds by pointing out social issues and causes I wanted other people to be concerned about. I was to be simply the messenger, not the message. Very altruistic and noble, huh. Later, as I started writing other things, I felt I needed to justify taking up people’s time to read what little I had to say, if only to myself. If not always educational, I should at least be entertaining. If I entertain you, maybe you’ll like me.

Menopause and mental illness aren’t very entertaining.

Yet they’re a big part of my life whether I like it or not, and just maybe it’s educational. Self-revelation is tough for me, but maybe some good can come from integrating those challenges into my public self, though the protection of anonymity is tempting. So for now everything will stay here, though I’ll try to keep the whining to a minimum.

This is the must-watch video of the month: Bush vs. Jesus, the campaign commercial. A sample: