Ex-Fresno State coach wins multi-million $$ lawsuit against the school!

I hate to say it, but Fresno State has a history of robbing the poor (women's sports programs) to feed the rich (men's football and basketball).  Volleyball coach Lindy Vivas was fired for standing up to them, so she took them to court.

And won.  $5.85 MILLION.  And guess what?  She's not the only one.  There are two more lawsuits pending, including one from the former women's basketball coach that ought to blow the doors off the good ol' boys club that is the FSU athletic office.

A jury on Monday awarded a former Fresno State volleyball coach $5.85 million in damages, ruling that the school discriminated against her for speaking up on behalf of female athletes.

Lindy Vivas, 50, was fired in 2004, two years after coaching her team to its best season in history. University officials said Vivas was let go because she did not meet performance goals and ran a program that often played in empty arenas.

Vivas sued in civil court, saying her contract was not renewed because she raised her voice to advocate for equal treatment of women athletes and access to facilities at Fresno State, a Division I school with a sprawling central California campus.

The jury award, which took into account Vivas' back wages, future lost pay and emotional distress, is likely the largest ever granted to a coach suing for retaliation under Title IX, a landmark federal law requiring gender equity in scholastic athletics, said the coach's lawyer, Dan Siegel.

"Fresno State wants to be a big-time athletic power, but it has to start acting like one. That means treating men and women the same," Siegel said. "This is a complete vindication of her and who Lindy is as a person, as a coach, and what she had to live with as a result of their actions."

Read the whole thing here, or the local article here.

Among the drunks....

I'm guessing this ranking has everything to do with a certain blogger moving to Fresno......

The list below ranks the cities from most dangerously drunk to least dangerously drunk.

Most Dangerously Drunk

100. Denver, CO F

99. Anchorage, AK F

98. Colorado Springs, CO F

97. Omaha, NE F

96. Fargo, ND F

95. San Antonio, TX F

94. Austin, TX F

93. Fresno, CA F

92. Lubbock, TX F

91. Milwaukee, WI F

90. El Paso, TX F

In other highlights, Washington DC comes in at 88, Los Angeles at 65, Las Vegas surprisingly near the middle at 47, and the LEAST dangerously drunk cities are (below the jump!)

Busy like the bee

Quick update:

Mom is doing great! Really great! The therapist was really impressed with her today!

Mom came home Sunday afternoon, and ever since it's been a whirlwind of therapy, continuous passive motion machine, walker exercises, and puppies.

I did manage to pay my bills and get all of the Christmas cards done.  If I have your address, you should be getting one....

On tap for this afternoon, Round 2 of puppy booster shots at the Vet and sorting all the Christmas presents that need to be wrapped. And then maybe some Christmas decorating, I hope.

In other news, it's pouring like the proverbial SOB here in Fresburg, which I love, especially at the holidays.  There should be a TON of snow in the mountains.  YAY!

Emerging from Black Friday

So Black Friday has come and gone, and I am nearly done with the Holiday shoppage once again.  Other than stocking stuffers and a possible gift or two for the parents or the Hub, the only people I have left to shop for are my 9 year old nephew and my 6 year old niece.  Both of whom are super bright and super picky. Any ideas?

I did extremely well, shopping-wise, saving more than I have spent so far by wisely shopping particular sales and comparing the ads on Thursday evening, post-turkey.

By 9 am we had been to 7 stores and it was time to call it a day.  Not bad for a morning's work.

Of course, some of the shopping was done earlier, courtesy of Amazon, Woot, and Etsy.

I can wholeheartedly recommend Etsy.  Handcrafted, unique, everything you can imagine, and I've had nothing but good experiences with all of the sellers I've dealt with.  Many of your favorite bloggers also sell their crafty output at Etsy.  Look them up!

What were you up to post-Turkey day?

I'm not sick but I'm not well...

This was his theme song.

I tried so hard, but you wouldn't listen, you wouldn't reason, you wouldn't leave your dark place. You chose to make ME leave instead. You pushed us all out and built wall upon wall.

And the irony of it is, you took the pussy's way out, not the warrior's death you once envisioned for yourself.

I hope you've finally found some peace. I doubt it, but I hope so. I miss you. We all miss you.

On surfacing

I'm starting to come out of my funk.  I'm sleeping again, and food almost tastes good.

I have learned a bunch of things this week. That I'm really good at fooling myself. How you change forever when someone dies. That there's a reason grief is called pain. That violent, unexpected death leaves more questions than it answers. That I am not who I thought I was, in some sense.

At first I was conflicted.  I felt like my grief was counterfeit.  Why should I be so upset?  He wasn't MY friend. 

Well, scratch that, yes he was. 

He was my oldest friend.  He was closer to me than anyone for the 2 years he lived with us.  I was closer to him.  Yes, I kicked him out of my life, but that was for his own good as well as mine.  But did I ever think of that?  Did I ever think of him as my friend.  Not really.  Not ever.  Until yesterday.  But I suppose I should have.

And I realize that I haven't healed from that last night when it all went to hell between us.  I thought I had moved on, that I could accept his apology someday and love him still from afar and wish nothing but good for him.  Yes, absolutely I could, and did, and still do.  But the wound was still raw, and now it's ripped open.

I have been hiding things in my mind.  Intentionally forgetting. Me.  Brain girl.  For the last 6 days there's always another memory welling up, a thought, a song, a movie quote.  Every day things have old associations that they haven't in years and it's all fresh again, how much it hurts.

I had forgotten how much of my life has him in it.

But I am dealing with it.  I'm scared to go to the service.  To see his family.  To hear again their words from that week.  The accusations and hurt.  I don't want to cause them any more hurt by reminding them of what he did to me.  I don't want to feel like I'm not wanted.

But I need to see his face.  To touch his hand and give him my last gift.  No one is going to stop that, though I'm scared to do that, too. 

He's the only person I know of who managed to blow his brains out in such a way that they can have an open casket.

Bastard.  He's still fucking with us.  He wins again. But then again, when didn't he get one over on us if he wanted to badly enough?

The story is all over the papers in the small town where it happened.  There's even pictures.  Not of him, just the place. The obituary was in yesterday's paper.  The autopsy is done, the service is planned.  They flew him home the last time.

It's ending.  I wish it wouldn't.  I don't want the story to end here.

Caught up but still catching up

Life is strange. They tell you this and you nod your head. Yes, oh yes. And then one day it happens, and the world falls into place, except the geometry is twisted.

I know that some of the people in my "RL" read this. I want you to understand this is not about you. This is not angry or complaining or confused. If you know about this you're most likely NOT one of the people I'm talking about, and I'd appreciate it if the rest of them didn't find out about this space.

So for the rest of you, a little story. There was once this girl, about 13. Smart, vivacious, outspoken. Sometimes arrogant. But not pretty. Not like the other kids, and very self conscious. Some people preyed on this. A lot of people. Including a girl I'll call K. K and her friends liked to make fun of this girl and her friends. for a number of reasons. Some of which were deserved. The girl also had a friend we'll call M. M and several other people and the girl were very close until one day the friends decided they didn't want to be friends with her either.

To this day, I don't know why. I guess I wasn't cool enough.

Anyway, the girl landed on her feet and found a new group of friends. Friends she still loves to this day (Hi Ben!) and one of whom she married.

Which brings me to the point of the story. Fast Forward 10 years. Turns out K is my husband's sister. Forward ten more years, M is now my husband's brother's new wife, and Saturday I was standing around talking to people who haven't deigned to speak to me in 15 years or more, and from whom I parted on less than amicable terms in some cases. Including my new Sister In Law.

Ain't that the shit? I haven't seen some of these people in two lifetimes, practically, and I'll see them again next week at another wedding. And I'm even FB friends with some of them all of a sudden. Which is ok. I'd rather know what they're up to than not. I mean, I never really stopped caring about them as people.

And I realize that I've spent the best part of the last decade hiding out. Pushing that part of my life away. Some of the reasons I had were good. Some were selfish. Some of them no longer exist. Some of them are gone forever.

I also realized that I feel like a stranger in what used to be my life. It's not like riding a bicycle. I'm just not that person anymore. My world is a different place, both spiritually and physically from what it was when I was that girl. Yes, everyone changes in 20 years, but not everyone needs a shoehorn to put on old shoes. As I stood there chatting about who does what and people's careers and kids and friends, I could feel the old patterns coming back. The old jokes, the snappy answers, the interaction was still the same, just less comfortable. As if trying on old clothes to check the fit. And I wanted to fit in, in spite of myself.

It's funny the hand life deals. I love my husband. But you can keep his family most days. They probably feel the same about me, and yet we are part of the same family. I love him and he loves them, so what choice do I have but to pitch in and be a sister to two people I would otherwise as soon have forgotten? The funniest thing is that my husband and his brother really haven't gotten along in years. For many good reasons. But they have grown closer over the last few months, due in large part to my new SIL and our own attempt at reconciling our problems.

So maybe this is a good thing, then, and my selfish anger and internal sense of righteous justice that burned its way out over the last year was just a waste of time, and the real answer is live and let live and love your family whether you chose them or got stuck with them.

A Blast from the Past

Found this on the old computer tonight, and I'm posting this for Ben.