I can't manage anything other than sputtering at HP's latest digital camera feature. Fortunately, Twisty has more on the subject.

The NYTimes editorial page continues to grow some balls. (go read the whole thing)

Republican strategists think they can win this fall, not by passing a good law but by forcing Democrats to vote against a bad one so they could be made to look soft on terrorism.

-snip-

We don’t blame the Democrats for being frightened. The Republicans have made it clear that they’ll use any opportunity to brand anyone who votes against this bill as a terrorist enabler. But Americans of the future won’t remember the pragmatic arguments for caving in to the administration.

They’ll know that in 2006, Congress passed a tyrannical law that will be ranked with the low points in American democracy, our generation’s version of the Alien and Sedition Acts.

Body Image Confession Time

I'm honestly not sure what made me think of this tonight, but in the shower I had a flashback to a conversation. I'm 13 or 14 years old and at yet another of those team sleepovers. Two of my teammates are twittering, because they know some story or rumor and it involves me and (gasp!) the new, hot, older guy at our gym. I'm trying to play it off, act all cool, like I don't really care what they think of me. Finally they're out with it - this guy said he thought I had the hottest body on the team, but my face wasn't much to look at. I can hear how mean and terrible it is now, and I can recognize what the other girls were doing in the telling of it. In the moment I just worked really hard to pretend that the whole thing was ridiculous and hysterically funny, because really, who would think or say such a thing? But in my head I was already assessing - eyes, pretty good. nose, too big. mouth, a disaster (I had a mouth full of braces and still had one or two oral surgeries in my future). Well, yes, I thought. That makes sense. Gymnastics had turned my flat little pre-pubescent body into solid muscle and minimal fat, so ok, that's what I had going for me. I guess I had better hang on to this body since I'm not pretty enough to pull off anything short of physical perfection from the neck down.

Most days I do ok. The good thing about being an athlete, as I've said a million times before, is that it allows you to focus on all the cool things your body can do and takes away from thinking of your body as just an aesthetically pleasing work of art. And yes, I see how grotesque and screwed up the above story is. Honestly (thankfully) I didn't freak out when puberty gave me boobs and hips and an ass and curves. But in those inevitable moments of critique in front of the mirror, when I just can't resist regretting the size of some part of my body...if I'm being really honest...it's not about that part of my body. It's about worrying that my face isn't pretty enough.

My but we get screwed up early, don't we?