Good for you, Chelsea

Cead Mile Failte

Happy St. Patrick's Day, Readers.

It's time to break out the green beer, the Kiss Me I'm Irish buttons, and, if you live in Indianapolis, go look at the neon green canal. Oh, and of course, the pinching of people that didn't wear green.

For myself, I'm spending St. Patty's Day remembering a trip to Ireland a few years ago. And wishing I was there again.

In other news, Hillary and Obama have been planning and making stops in Indiana, proving once again that yes, we matter too. Turns out a long primary season means we get to take part in the excitement. And Clinton's stop and tour of Terre Haute with golden child Senator Bayh has many a speculator speculating another veep from Indiana.

For those counting, only 3 days until spring. And 5 until I can drink caffeine guilt-free again!

Good Night, Moon

I'm in our nation's capitol today, readers. While I do love DC and can dork out on politics and history with the best of them, all I want to do is cuddle up in my bed.

That would be because I was awake at 3:30 this morning.

My flight left in the pre-dawn hours and its one hour length did not allow me the 5 hours I needed to catch up on the previous nights sleep. Add to my sleep deprivation a conference filled with acronyms and minutia and you've got me right now: a cranky beast who is ignoring things involving data collection and sitting in the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton typing on her blog. This, of course, is to avoid stabbing my own eyes out with a straw while I sit listening to federal drones drone on.

I'm pretty sure with very little effort I could fall asleep sitting up as I type this. Maybe I could hide under the break table and take a nap.

Well Isn't That Special

Today is a special election in Indiana's 7th Congressional District. Due to the passing of the colorful Julia Carson, we are having an election to fill her seat. This is interesting for several reasons:

• This is the first of three elections we will be holding for the 7th district in the next 8 months. In May, we'll be holding a primary (to elect someone to run---who may or may not be the current Congressman at that time). Then, in November, we'll elect a Congressman--who may or may not be the incumbent, or even someone who was in the first of the three elections. Confusing? Heck, yeah. I need a flowchart.
  
• The DNC has been throwing GOBS of money towards D candidate and heir apparent Andre Carson (Julia's grandson). I've been seeing ads during all sorts of different time spots and have received no less than four mailings (Note: this is 100% more than I've seen or received from presidential primary candidates).
• In comparison, I've seen nothing from R John Elrod. Rumor on the politico blogs is that they had a spot ready to go...and funding, but had to yank it at the last second due to inaccuracies. Haven't heard or seen anything in the meantime, so I'm guessing he's pretty much screwed on that. I haven't seen any mailings, either, although I've heard that they are out there (and pretty in pink, at that).

If votes follow the money and ads, then Andre is a shoe-in. If voters continue to express their malcontent over property taxes and Iraq by voting against anything that seems "government," then Elrod may squeak out a V. I'm hopeful that Andre wins with a record voter turnout for a special election. With an engaged electorate due to the presidential primaries, we may just actually have a Congressman elected by the many rather than the few.

And this concludes today's lesson on Indiana politics...snark.

Please Hold for....My Soapbox

Frazzled

I've been running around like the proverbial chicken this weekend and it looks to continue well into the week. There are errands to be run, prep for a work visit to Washington, DC this week, my brother's birthday (Happy 16th, Jay!), cleaning, chair shopping, dinner with friends, a special election to vote in, and maybe, just maybe, a chance to enjoy the promised 50 degree weather.

All in all, though, everything seems okay because I didn't have to wear snow boots or mittens this morning. It seems positively balmy out at a high of 43 degrees. Enough to make me dream about swimming last night, apparently.

This weekend was not all work, though, as my brother Jack spent the night with me on Friday night and introduced me to the world of Tiger Woods PGA Golf on XBOX. Readers, I may be turning into a gamer.

And here's the thing: I don't even play golf in real life. But it is AMAZING on the game. I spent no less than 3 hours of my life this weekend playing. For the first time in my life, I know what a Birdie is...or a Bogey. And, you can customize your little golf person to somewhat look like you--only wearing fancy fashionable golf attire.

It has inspired me to call up Friend Jeanne and ask for golf lessons when the weather is warm enough. I have a feeling, though, I'll be a tad disappointed when I can get Par like I can on the video game.

I wonder if I'll have to buy knickers to wear on the golf course?

Betting on the wrong horse.

Attention everyone.

We are about to have a blizzard. We are going to have at least 74 feet of snow. You can try to go to the grocery to get milk and bread--but they'll probably be out. It's very likely that you will be trapped in your house, the electricity will go out and you'll be forced to eat your pet to survive.

Or, it's possible that it will go right by us.

This has pretty much been the theme of this winter's weather forecasts. I don't know about other states, but our weathermen have led us to believe that the snow apocalypse is upon us every other day for the last few months. They then spend the alternate days recounting and recanting the reasons why their forecast was wrong.

I'm no weatherman and don't really understand the jet stream, but I could tell you what's going to happen tomorrow--it's going to be cold. It's winter, folks. It will be cold. Beyond that, it's a crap shoot.

I would like a job where I can be overpaid to be wrong 95% of the time.

GOTV, Jack.

Who's Ear?

This morning I heard a radio spot asking all "Indianians" to call their senator and ask him to vote for or against something. Frankly, the message was lost on me as I got stuck on Indianians.

We're Hoosiers. NOT Indianians.

Come on, that even looks ridiculous. Like the word is repeating itself.

I was so incensed over this waste of money and horrible ad firm work that I wrote the group a letter. After hitting send, I realized that this may be a touch over the top and a little bit too much HOOSIER pride.

All that, and no one really even knows what a Hoosier is anyway. All we've got to go one are some folksy tales about missing ears or people entering the room. And let's not forget the fact that in other parts of the country, a Hoosier is something bad.

But whatever. This is Indiana. We're Hoosiers and proud of it.