Thank You, Sarah

Dear Sarah,

Please excuse this letter's informal opening, but I feel as if I know you so well, first names are only appropriate. Referring to you as Mrs. Palin would be overly stiff and just wrong, somehow.

So, Sarah, I'm writing today to say how much I've enjoyed your media blitz and to share with you, on this Thanksgiving holiday, some of the many things for which I am grateful.

The recent 24/7 news cycle has been broadcasting non-stop interviews with you of late, which makes me very, very thankful for the First Amendment. Seeing you on TV, or reading about you in the paper, reminds me that, in America, anyone can bask in uncensored media attention, no matter how inane their message is. Because of the First Amendment, Americans have just as much right to listen to vapid speech as they do to profanity, or to sound reason, or to eloquence. Thank you for reminding me of this.

You've also made me thankful for the many women who trail blazed ahead of you and me, winning for future generations of females the right to vote and the opportunity to run for elected office. I'm reminded of the suffragettes and of those first women who secured seats in Congress: Margaret Chase Smith and Shirley Chisholm come to mind. Now a woman with your qualifications, Sarah, can be tapped for the vice presidency, which tells me that our gender no longer needs to be substantially more qualified than their male counterparts in order to be taken seriously. Our foremothers deserve a nod of gratitude on this Thanksgiving day for all of their pioneering efforts.

Finally, I have to hand it to the editor or marketing person who came up with the title for your memoir, "Going Rogue." Until the book's release, I had never thought of you as rogue, given that the dictionary defines such a person as a "villain, trickster, swindler, cheat." But maybe you're hiding some ill deeds that the National Enquirer will soon reveal. While that would be fun, I doubt that you have many more skeletons in your closet. More likely, the book title was just a cynical attempt to position you as an iconoclast of the right, a strategy that may well work. But if true roguishness was your goal, you might consult with your own rogue from Wasilla, Levi Johnston, for some tips. Or better yet, Martha Stewart might give you some pointers. Martha has actual prison time on her rogue resume. Just a thought.

Seriously, Sarah, the rogue thing is at odds with your Alaska-beauty-queen- embracing-home-and-hearth image, which worked so well for you and reminded all of us of the importance of family, especially at Thanksgiving. So in honor of the family values that you previously espoused, I'd like to propose an idea: Rather than spending $25 on your book, people could donate that amount to a local charity that helps needy families. Just to show that I'm fully committed to this idea, I pledge to send $25 to my local chapter of Habitat for Humanity in lieu of owning my own copy of "Going Rogue."

What do you think? If you tell your friends and I tell mine, and they tell all of their friends, we could do some serious fundraising. True, your publisher, Harper Collins, might be a tad annoyed at the idea, but they're a big company and they'll get over it. After all, my idea is for the greater good. Let me know if you're in. Happy Thanksgiving.

With warm regards from Glendale,
Cathleen

GERMINATION!!!

A couple of weeks ago, Dennis finally ripped out most of the summer's tomato plants. A few aging vines that had been tucked into a corner of the yard still remain, but, for the most part, this year's tomato extravaganza can only be relived by pulling a container of puree from the freezer and defrosting.

As you surmised, I was more than ready for those tired, whithered plants to go. But not without a fond farewell. Many of this year's tomato plants showed great aptitude and surpassed all of our expectations. But of late, they were saggy and parched. California summers are brutal, and those plants were weathered, long past their prime.

With the tomato obsession in abeyance, we could focus on a new season. Dennis stirred up the loamy contents of his compost bin and refreshed our raised beds with some dense brown earth material. Meanwhile, I grabbed the graph paper, sketched in our existing planting space, consulted the back of the seed packs, and formed a plan. Then, I carefully tucked seeds just under the dirt's surface -- two types of lettuces, kale, sugar snap peas, carrots, and an Argentinian green called achicoria from a seed envelope that a friend had shared with me.

I carefully studied how much sun each crop demanded and placed the seeds in what I hoped was the best possible neighborhood for each type of plant. Location, location, location -- never truer words than when endeavoring to grow something. I know this from my many past failures, including several of my kids' science fair projects, which went awry because none of us could germinate a simple bean.

Maybe the conditions in our yard are just better now -- more conducive to success -- with the raised beds and the compost and all, because I'm here to report that 20 days after burying tiny seeds, we have germination! Itty bitty little lettuce leaves, minuscule tips of kale, tiny pea shoots, and carrot tops are all breaking through. I'm stupidly proud.

Tomorrow's plan is to thin the young crops, a random and capricious exercise that calls for a devil-may-care approach and great trust that the plants left behind will live long and prosper.

But I'm game for the task. If any seedling gives me the slightest scowl, he's history.

P.S. If you're wondering what's happening with the South Laguna Community Garden (the subject of the previous post), an invitation has been extended to Michelle Obama in the hopes that she'll make a very special appearance at the garden's opening cermonies. No harm in dreaming big.