Tales from the Tracks

I’m sure it surprises exactly no one that I’m not too keen on the second Mrs. McCain. Aside from being a vapid home wrecker who looks far too much like a vampire for my personal comfort, Cindy McCain is a liar.

See, if your husband is running for President, we as the American people would like to hear you speak. Open your mouth from time to time, tell us you care about health care or poverty or orphans in Africa. It really doesn’t matter what the topic is - it just matters that you have something quasi-intelligent to say. And, oh yeah, it has to be the truth.

Cindy McCain has decided to open her pink lipsticked mouth, but unfortunately what she has to say is neither intelligent nor the truth. (Go figure.) In retelling stories of her childhood, Cindy McCain has said that she was an “only child.” Enter Kathleen Hensley Portalski, daughter to Jim Hensley, aka Cindy McCain’s father.

You see, Cindy (whose middle name, by the way, is Lou. Quite amusing that she shares her name with a main character in ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas’), when you share the same father with someone, that makes you siblings.

Jim Hensley was married to Mary Jeanne Hensley in 1943, the year their daughter Kathleen was born. However, when Jim was injured during WW II, he was sent to recuperate in West Virginia where he met another woman, Marguerite Smith. In 1945, he divorced Mary Jeanne to marry Marguerite, and nine years later, Cindy Lou (Hoo) was born. Does this story sound ironically familiar to anyone else? Talk about a Freudian analysis!

Cindy McCain knew her half-sister, Kathleen, with whom she reportedly spent some holidays growing up. Kathleen Hensley Portalski says she is upset and feels like “a non-person” by her sister’s continual assertion that she is an only child.

Kathleen has stated that she would like acknowledgement or an apology. When NPR asked the McCain campaign to respond or comment, no reply was received.

Idiots, idiots, idiots.

Now compare Cindy Lou (Hoo) McCain with Michelle Obama, who is bright, articulate and a graduate of Princeton University and Harvard Law School. (Also, Michelle is not a liar.) Do we really want to elect a leader who would choose debatably attractive, fib-telling arm candy as his life partner over someone who can challenge and expand his thinking? Really, America?

Okay, time for an embarrassing confession: I have had the same cheap wallet since I was in eighth grade. (I’m now in my mid-twenties, so hopefully that will give you a sense of how disgusting said wallet is.)

A few weeks ago, I finally decided that it was time to splurge on a new wallet. As impressive as I’m sure my clients find my financial responsibility, something about me pulling out a tattered, canvas wallet with dangling zipper enclosures during business lunches just doesn’t instill the confidence and professionalism they’re after.

Luckily, I found a shop in Seattle that makes handmade, custom wallets. The shop is called Laura Bee Designs and they take orders both in person and online. And they’re cheap, too! I ordered a full-size, custom wallet for $26. The quality is decent, not amazing, but the styles are really cute. They also make handbags, too - depending on how my wallet wears, I may be going back there a lot!

Most of Gavin’s personal qualities he thankfully got from my ex. He is soft spoken, laid-back, and very polite. Sure, there are undertones of mischief that he decidedly inherited from me, but fortunately, his father’s traits keep that in check. What I somehow failed to realize, though, was that my first-born son is actually a soft spoken, non-chalant alpha male.

Today, Gavin was having his usual Mommy-don’t-go meltdown as I tried to drop him off at daycare. Hiding behind my legs, trying to climb into my lap (while I was standing, no less), and explaining in every way his two-year old vocabulary would permit that he very much did not want to be there. Finally, I made a deal with him - I would walk him from the gym back to his classroom and he could hold my hand the entire way. This seemed to quell his apprehension sufficiently and the billowing sobs lessened into soft tears.

Just then, Gavin’s good friend, Jack, ran up. “Can I hold hands, too?” he asked, grabbing my other hand.

“Of course,” I started to say but was interrupted by Gavin wedging himself in between me and his companion, a ferocious look washing over his face. The tears stopped in their tracks and whimpering cries were replaced with clenched teeth.

Gavin ripped Jack’s hand out of mine and moved in close. “No,” he said very seriously. “It’s MY Mommy.”

Jack looked at me pitifully. “Can I hold hands?” he asked again.

With his message not sinking in, Gavin wasted no time. He used his entire body to block Jack from getting anywhere near me. “No, no! It’s MY Mommy! MY Mommy!” I had to pull Gavin away from Jack for fear he would knock the poor child over. Despite Gavin being younger, he is a good head taller.

Finally, Jack lost interest in holding my hand, and Gavin willing rejoined his class in line. “Bye, Mommy,” he said, waving me off with a knowing grin. “Have a good day!”