Yahoo! News reports that Mary Landrieu (D-LA): "won $100 million in the legislation to help her state pay the costs of health care for the poor" in exchange for her vote in favor of the Senate health care debate. I would love to see a record of how many phone calls, emails, and personal visits to her office she received in opposition to this bill. Did she represent her constituents? That is all I would like to know. If so, then not only will they have the "free" healthcare they are looking for, they will get "free" healthcare to cover the gaps in the federal program, or, at least, "free" healthcare until the federal system takes effect five years from now. In that case, the next time she is up for re-election, everyone will know what she did for her district. It's a fine line between selling out and taking care of the people that elected her. And only her office knows where that line is drawn. While the rest of the nation is at 35% approval for this bill, it is possible that her constituents down in LA think this is a wonderful plan. Then she represented her peeps well and won them more money. It could be a win-win situation for them.
Maybe twice in the last few years I have watched a cable TV show entitled "Dr. 90210" that follows Dr Robert Rey in his Beverly Hills plastics practice. Until last night, I had not watched this show since Neil was working nights back in his fourth year of residency. I vaguely remembered that the guy was Brazilian and that his wife was clueless. Every time she had appeared on camera, the wife was complaining about her husband and his work hours. It can go without saying why this stuck with me.
Along the lines of Dr Rey's wife's attitude, nobody that I interact with on a regular basis can top the demands of Neil's job and, consequently, the demands placed upon me. While being told how much easier my husband's schedule is, or even, recently, how much easier a deployment is, irks me to no end, I attempt to muster some empathy. I try to remind myself that Christ would want me to forget about myself and concentrate on this person's struggles and needs. Something else that keeps me from engaging in one-upmanship is the recognition that, as hard as Neil's schedule might be for me, I have an easier time in life than 95% of the rest of the women in this world. In comparison to the myriad ways in which women are oppressed, whether through poverty, abuse, sexism, etc, what right do I have to complain? As a rule, I avoid this kind of competition for sympathy or recognition. It's not because I'm too good for it; rather, I recognize that if someone is trying that hard to convince me, they are trying to convince themselves. Or else they need the validation. But not this lady-she just had no idea what her life could be like. I would be surprised to find out that she married Dr Rey anytime before his fellowship at Harvard. There is no way she put him through medical school.
Last night I couldn't fall asleep, and the show happened to be on. In this episode, the wife's parents decide to move to a neighboring city in California. In a bizarre plot twist, Dr Rey doesn't get along well with his mother-in-law. Yet, his wife needs her parents nearby to help watch the kids every once in a while since she doesn't have a nanny and he continues to work long hours. (The Rey's have two children, maybe Zach and Audrey's ages.) I get that, but, to be honest, I can't figure out why the guy doesn't get her a nanny. Not only is he a partner in a lucrative plastics practice, he has a line of shapewear, he worked as a speech writer for a previous Surgeon General, he acts as a medical consultant for tv/film, and appears as a guest commentator for award shows. A nanny is not going to break the bank around his house.
Speaking of houses, his wife goes to look for a house for her parents to move into. The real estate agent shows her a "cute" house that's probably 4000 square feet. Mrs Rey was not excited about this house, so the real estate agent reveals her true intent with her client: First the agent brings up the local elementary schools, how great they are, then, how nice it would be to live so close to her parents, and wouldn't she like to look for a home for herself, as well. The dollar signs in that agent's eyes couldn't be more obvious. The vindictive part of me hopes that people saw this real estate agent on tv and won't trust her anymore.
They take Mrs Rey to this palace with a master closet as big as my current kitchen and breakfast area combined, maybe bigger. The wife is all, "This is the right place for my family." Next thing we know, the real estate agent calls her and wants an offer on the place the next day. Unfortunately, Mrs Rey hasn't mentioned the house to her husband. As soon as he walks in the door from work, she says that they're moving, it may be farther from his office, but she needs to be closer to her parents because of his schedule and that she wants to rescue more animals.
What? Where did that come from? The camera pans to a dog behind a baby gate outside of the kitchen.
His hard work leaves her no time for herself--again, what? the rational behind this is coming, wait for it--so she has decided he does not deserve a say in where they live...did she already say it's all because he works so much?
While that's not the actual transcription of her side of the argument, it's fairly close. And it fairly closely resembles the maturity of a five year old.
The new house will be 10,000 square feet (she's also lying-the real estate agent told her 11K), that it's only 9 Million Dollars, and she knows he can afford that. Apparently, their current 9ooo square foot house, with two pools, on half an acre with a grove of trees and fruit trees is not enough. Oh, have I mentioned that they live outside of Beverly Hills? Can you imagine how much the land under one of those pools would cost, let alone that entire package? I really couldn't watch anymore.
If you've ever complained to me about your husband's schedule, or life in general, please know that I really don't look at everyone as critically as I do this nutjob lady, or her real estate agent. I understand better than the average bear the difficulties of a busy husband, and so people vent to me all the time--I don't mind, really I don't. It's only complete strangers that have no sense of perspective, or reality, as the case might be, that raise my blood pressure.
That, and the politician that makes a deal with the proverbial devil. Or maybe it's the people who acts as agents for the proverbial devil. (And I don't mean the real estate agent.) I'm just saying.
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