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Admittedly, I need to have something to keep me amused at all times. It sort of explains why I have about 12 billion hobbies -- the cooking, knitting, bookbinding, etc. For about an hour today I just played with all the digital photos I've taken recently. Since I'm planning on having some sort of official mix CD of go fishgiveaway sooner or later anyway , I decided to make my own album cover...you know, because I'm just that cheesy.

What do you think, am I the best rock star ever?

It needs something -- perhaps some spinach in my teeth, or a booger. Definitely a better album title...as is, it's my Ed Grimley/Peter Frampton tribute.

Do you, you feel like I do?

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My half sister graduated from high school this afternoon [that's me at my high school graduation, not her]. There's a party for her tomorrow. An invitation to the party arrived in my mail a few days ago, and I emailed a response, declining the invitation. As much as I would like to see Crystal, I have no desire to be in the same room with her mother or my father. It's a recipe for disaster and being uncomfortable. I'm sure if Crystal could escape the torturous situation she would.

I had every intention of attending the party when I first received the invitation. I wasn't exactly excited by the idea, but I felt somehow guilty every time I thought about not attending. Crystal's graduation party should be about her, not the drama that her parents bring to the table.

And then I thought back to my own high school graduation.

My graduating class was small, about 120 people. It was indoors because it was raining, and I only had a limited amount of tickets. I had five. I gave two to my mother, one to my boyfriend, and two to my father. I was happy to be graduating because graduating meant I could get the hell out of my hometown and out of my house. I was excited about it.

The night of my graduation my father showed up to the ceremony wearing a pair of ripped, dirty jeans, a holey tshirt, and a leather biker vest. Oh, and he smelled. I don't think he had taken a shower in a week. Everyone else's parents were dressed up and looked nice. My dad looked like an escapted convict, which [knowing his track record] would not have surprised me in the least to hear he was on the run for the law [again].

It was embarrassing, and it totally ruined my night. I really just wanted to skip the ceremony, go home, and hide under my bed. I was so nervous that my dad would do something further to humiliate me [like rushing the stage or farting loudly during the commencement speech] that I almost fell down the stairs after accepting my diploma.

Luckily he didn't bother to attend my graduation party. That made me feel better. I remember that all I wanted to do was huddle around my friends at the party. I suspect Crystal will do the same at hers. Granted, in comparison to the rest of her family that will be present I seem like the fucking Queen, but still -- she's going to want to spend time with her friends.

And so I decided not to go. Part of it is selfish [I don't want to see my father] and part of it is reality [she's going to say hello to me and then go hang with her friends]. So I sent a check, and I emailed her.

She'll visit toward the end of the summer and we'll have our own party. Without my father.

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Hunting and gun ownership are two very big things in the town where I grew up. I think that's true in any small town -- there's nothing very interesting to do, so you pick up the hobby of your dad: hunting. I've never been even the slightest bit interested in hunting, but I have taken a hunter's saftey course. There was nothing else to do.

I have some cousins who are 14 years old who are very into guns and hunting. They can't drive yet, but it's perfectly legal for them to handle loaded weapons. Yes, yes, I know -- guns don't kill people, people kill people. True as that might be, when a 14 year old kid kills himself after a plot to shoot up the school fails, you can argue who or what is at fault all you like. The simple fact of the matter is that the kid's father owns a small arsenal of weapons and wasn't careful enough to make sure the kid didn't have access.

Is it fair to punish the father when he's already lost his son due to his own negligence? I don't know. It's a sad situation. But the fact that the kid was allowed to handle weapons at all troubles me -- seven years ago the kid was under psychiatric care for "psychotic and uncontrollable" behavior. Kids who have psychiatric problems with rage should never be allowed to have access to weaponry. That just seems like common sense.

Making it illegal to handle or own guns until you're a certain age won't make a huge difference. It'll only make them more attractive to kids, and most of the time the kids are using their parents' firearms anyway. But there is something that can be done that the government is resisting because the gun manufactureres who give the government huge campaign contributions don't want it to happen: mandatory safety locks.

There's this argument that if someone breaks into your house, you need to have immediate access to your weapon. Having to unlock a safety lock and then load your weapon takes too much time. By the time everything is ready to go, it'll be too late. Quite honestly, I'd like to the see the statistics about break ins where the owner has a gun and uses it. I would guesstimate that it's a very small percentage.

If safety locks will keep kids from being able to use firearms, then I am all for it.

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It looks like the weather finally broke, and we've been getting a bit more sun than we've gotten used to. All I've been asking for is a little bit of sun for my poor, beleaguered, water-logged garden.

Good things happen when I get both rain and sun:

And tomorrow I think we might go to the beach for the day. As much sunscreen as I slather on, with me having practically see-through skin I'm sure to be a big red crispy critter tomorrow night. The poor people on the beach will be blinded by all my uber stark white reflective skin!

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Coincidentally enough, yesterday I was blathering on about how most politicians are wealthy and can't relate to the poor or even your typical American. Today CNN reports that 4 out of 10 Senators are millionaires.

That leaves 6 out of 10, and that's not bad, right? Well, if only. The financial records Senators are required to submit are not accurate or complete.

And the statements also do not include the value of federal salaries, pensions or primary residences, meaning the financial picture is incomplete. Bank accounts worth less than $5,000 are also excluded.

I'm thinking the number is a bit higher than 4 out of 10, if you include all that other stuff.

What I find particularly hysterical about the article is this line: "Not all senators are millionaires. At least 10 senators reported net worths of less than $100,000." Less than $100K! Well, better call the poorhouse!

But the conclusion is something we already know:

"It shows that people of means are the ones who often jump into politics and are often the ones successful at it," Weiss said. He said that's because it also takes considerable funds to launch a Senate bid, and many candidates have to give up their jobs to run an aggressive campaign. People who come from wealthy backgrounds can afford to do so, he said.

Senators and House members are paid an annual salary of $154,700. Members of the House and Senate leadership are paid $171,900 annually.

Well, duh. That's why you have politicians in office who say they stand for the working American but wouldn't know what that means if I handed them my paycheck. Between your opponent digging into your past to come up with every even remotely underhanded thing you ever did and the obscene amount of money it takes to run a campaign and win, no wonder Senators, etc. don't represent you or me.