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I have long considered myself a conservative, and more recently I have considered myself a Libertarian to boot. Libertarians believe in a dramatic reduction of government involvement and a dramatic increase in personal freedom. I never believed in welfare, and I've always been opposed to socialized medicine. Until I had a baby. You see, I had never been in the hospital before, never had surgery, and never had a huge pile of unintelligible medical bills sitting on my kitchen table. I had always enjoyed good health, and I suppose caused me to be unsympathetic.

Oh, the bills. What were these bills for? Beats me. Some are for mysterious lab tests, cultures, and other mad scientist-sounding procedures. Some are for services that the insurance company had paid for...and then taken back their payment. But mostly, we had no idea what the charges were for. For a while, we were receiving bills or statements every other day. Even now, seven months after Alice's birth, we are still trying to settle our account with Alice's pediatrician and my obstetrician, to say nothing of the fees for my post-baby abdominal surgery. We pay more than $400 a month for medical insurance for our family, and we are still paying hand over fist for medical expenses. Clay transferred our mutual fund account to a Health Savings Account so we could pay for all of this nonsense. The bills roll in, and I sadly watch my long-saved money being yanked out from under me. And we are the lucky ones.

Thank God that we are mostly healthy and can pay our bills...so far. According to Divided We Fail, every year 1.85 million Americans go bankrupt due to medical bills. I believe it! My medical procedures are insignificant compared to someone dealing with cancer, heart disease, diabetes or any chronic illness. How can someone who has thought ahead and invested in insurance be thrown out into the street because they can't pay their medical bills? The system is broken. It has to be fixed. My sweet husband is an idealist. He thinks that if the government gave us all back the money that they are wasting, we could all pay for our health care needs, our children's education, and even throw in some cash to support the arts. Clay is an idealist. I am not. I am a realist. How am I going to pay for my next child's prenatal care and delivery? I'm probably going to have to have another C-section...what if I have another reaction to the stitches and have to have another abdominal surgery? What if one of us gets really sick? What are we going to do? Let's face it: The government is not going to up and give us our money. The government is not going to become less involved in our lives. Is socialism is inevitable?

"Robyn, are you becoming a Democrat?" you may ask. In this two-party nation, this one-or-the-other state, most Americans have the mindset that you are either a Democrat or a Republican. But in reality, people are more complex than that. Can you be a Democrat and be pro-life? Most would say, "no." If you are socially liberal but fiscally conservative, does that make you a Republican or what? Who can say? We have to get past this all-or-nothing system. And I think we can. Most of the people my age and younger are developing their own political identities. Wouldn't it be great if we could vote on all issues individually? You could vote against abortion, for state health care, against the government stalking you, and for legalized marijuana. You could say yes to state-funded art museums, roads, and parks, but no to war, corporate pay-offs and gilded toilet seats at the White House. Sure, it would take up all your time, but maybe then we wouldn't be at the mercy of these power-hungry, good-for-nothing politicians. I hope that everyone will vote their hearts in this election and not settle for the lesser of the two evils.

I have often toyed with the idea of abandoning society altogether to become a recluse. Unfortunately, I’ve never found it practical. In order to become a true recluse, you need to first inherit a vast and semi-haunted mansion from a tragically deceased relative. The more gruesome your relative’s demise, the more easily you can establish your legacy. Your mansion needs to be equipped with plenty of secret passages and a private chapel (complete with a faithful, old priest who can administer communion and hear your daily confession.) Once you’re set up in your new home, simply hire a deaf-mute errand boy and you’re set for a lifetime of solitude.

While I’m patiently waiting for that piece of masonry to brain my Uncle Robillard Devereau, I’ll have to content myself with mere eccentricity.

Dress the part. The motto of the eccentric is "If you are going to go, go all out." You don’t have to totally re-format your wardrobe at once. In fact, eccentricity is often known to emerge in the form of accessories, such as excessively large gemstone pendants or the frequent use of colorful scarves. Don’t forget to experiment with make-up. If you walk into church with stunning WWII-era red lipstick or cleverly-applied Egyptian eye make-up, folks are bound to notice. If you are a man, you can start by wearing dapper hats, then woolen argyle sweaters, and finally bowties.

Occasionally allude to a colorful family history. Wild claims of ancestry create instant eccentricity. But proceed with caution. If tell folks you’re the alien love child of JFK and Elvis Presley, prepare to have to back up your claim with plenty of documentation and convincing photographs. Subtlety is the main ingredient of true eccentricity. For instance, the next time someone badmouths Judas Iscariot, Marie Antoinette, John Wilkes Booth or Lizzie Borden, etc. you can pipe up with, "You know, history has really gone out of its way to give Al Capone a bad name. In reality, he was great family man. Whenever he returned from a business trip, he never failed to give each of the kids a toy, an orange, and a bag of penny candy."

Adopt an exotic pet. You don’t have to share your bed with a pygmy lion/tiger hybrid, but it doesn’t hurt. Large and menacing birds are good choices, of course. Even a three-legged cat will do in a pinch. But the best pet for an eccentric person is some sort of reptile. Cayman, iguana, snake or turtle…you can’t lose.

Develop a nervous tick. This one is a suggestion from my dear husband. He thinks it would be fun to use your tick when around your newest acquaintances. Then if you ever come up in conversation in the break room, they can say, "Oh, yeah! Clay McKinney…he’s the one with the weird tick!" and everyone will think that they are crazy, because they’ve never seen your tick before.

Scars, tattoos and other identifying markers. If you have a birthmark that looks like the silhouette of Edgar Allan Poe, consider yourself quite lucky. For the rest of us, we will have to rely on impressive scars. For those of you who aren’t scar-prone, find some liquid latex and fashion yourself a prosthetic scar. Perhaps all the way around your neck, implying that you have undergone some sort of dramatic, Frankenstein-style surgery. If you’re not willing to invest the sort of time required to make your own scar every morning, consider a cryptic tattoo on a sometimes-visible part of your body. Anything goes: random Latin phrases, your numerology report, or a picture of Lady Liberty cuddling a newborn chimpanzee.

Gradually adopt an accent. This will greatly help you develop your own personal story of eccentricity. What sort of eccentric are you? A ruined Bayou Belle? A vengeful Native American? A secret Canadian spy? The possibilities are endless! Be sure to throw in the occasional foreign phrase to further befuddle your acquaintances.

Esoteric=Eccentric. Perhaps until now, your interests have included normal activities, such as golfing, swimming, cooking, etc. If this is the case, it may be time to embellish your Facebook profile. Under "favorite books and movies," toss in some ancient tomes and some creepy silent films that no one has ever heard of. Under "interests and activities," discuss your throwing star collection and insinuate that you are a mason.

Invest in an unusual collection. One of my best buddies has a skull and skeleton collection. This makes him an automatic eccentric. (well, that and his vast and eclectic artistic tastes.) If you’re not into skulls, try something artsy and global, like "Masks from Around the World" or "Dolls from Every Nation."

Invent weird rituals. Do you sprinkle holy water across your doorstep while dancing a crazy jig and singing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" backwards? Congratulations, you are an eccentric. Do you do all that just to keep your neighbors from asking you to support the local high school football team? Well, you’re not an eccentric yet, but you’ve proven that you’re willing to give it a shot.

Become nocturnal. Nothing weirds people out more than someone weeding their garden in the middle of the night. Being nocturnal is so handy…you don’t have to talk to as many old high school friends when you go to the Wal-Mart. You don’t have to wait in line to pump your gas. And when you go to the ATM , you can "pull a Batman" on the creeps trying to rob the bank.

You get the idea. Remember, eccentricity is individual. Come up with your own special flavor, and you are sure to succeed!

I understand that the vampire craze has swept the nation once again, this time targeting young girls. The "Twilight" series by Stephanie Meyer is evidently the next big thing. I have not read the series for many reasons, not the least of which is the fact that I'm no longer 15. And now that I've done a bit of research on the series, I don't plan to. Why? 1) The author doesn't appear to be all that bright. She confessed in an interview that she "never got around" to reading "Dracula," for the love of Pete! Nor has she seen any vampire movies, save a few Bela Lugosi clips! She's never even seen "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"! Which causes me to holler out loud, "What do you even know about vampires, woman?" She goes on to say that she's afraid to read vampire books because she's worried they will be too similar or different from her own vampire universe. Another frightening fact: the book that most inspires her is the Book of Mormon! 2) The series appears to romanticize vampires. If Meyer had ever read Dracula or seen "Nosferatu" (or "Interview with the Vampire" or even "Bram Stoker's Dracula") she would know that vampires are pretty dang ugly, and the prospect of being bitten by one isn't something to be turned on by.

I'm no vampire expert, but come on! Let's not be ridiculous. To display the proper way to interact with a vampire (should you ever come across one) I decided it would be fun to re-write "Twilight" into a much briefer account.  Here goes:

Bella was hard at work in her parent's yard struggling with a dead bush that was reluctant to be uprooted from its home. She was only 17, but she already had an interest in horticulture, and she was offended by dead plants marring the face of the lawn. She turned around to select another tool from her shiny collection of lawn care paraphernalia when she was startled by a strange boy smiling grimly at her. He looked as though he had spent his life in a cellar and had been fed nothing but arsenic for a very long time. The poor boy needed a sandwich in the worst possible way.

"Hello Bella," the boy said in a husky voice that she assumed was feigned for the purpose of seeming mysterious. "May I introduce myself? My name is Edward." His alabaster skin sparkled. "What the heck? Body glitter?" Bella wondered, repulsed. She hadn't worn body glitter since she was Glinda the Good Witch in her 3rd grade production of The Wizard of Oz. Her gaydar detected a tad of the effeminate in her new companion.

"Hi, there, Eddie!" Bella said in a bright, friendly tone. "New to the area?"

"Why, yes. I recently shifted my lair, er, base of operations, er, I mean residence. I live in the castle, er, manor, er, estate down the road."

"How nice," she went on, wondering if her voice was loud and chipper enough to alert her mom. "We'll have to make you a pie!"

"Alas, I do not partake of such confections." he replied sadly.

"Oh, of course. You must be diabetic." she nodded sympathetically. It explained the horrible pallor.

"Nay, forsooth! I am a lonely vampire." he confessed.

"A vampire?" she replied. She sized him up critically. The smile faded from her lips. Her grip tightened on her branch trimmer. "You mean to say that you are a condemned, undead being who stalks the earth with an unbridled bloodlust?"

"Tut, tut, my sweet." he whispered, attempting without success to stroke her hair. "I have vowed to live only upon wildlife and never human blood. Although your scent is driving me out of my senses." he added. Unnecessarily, she thought.

"Wildlife, eh? What sort of wildlife?" she asked, wondering uncomfortably how much longer this conversation was going to last.

"Oh, this and that. Whatever a poor young man can scare up," he grinned devilishly. "Newts, frogs, turtles." (here she grimaced) "And an occasional spotted owl."

"Spotted owls are endangered, you know," Bella replied hotly.

"Do you know who is endangered? Me! Poor, poor, pitiful me! No one understands me! No one loves me!" he gripped her arms. Well, "grip" may be too strong a word. He gave them a squeeze, at any rate.

"Doesn't my cool, marble touch make you mad with desire?" he asked, his unnaturally red lips drawing close to her ear. His hands were cold and clammy. He was beginning to remind her of her Grandma Betty. Except that her Grandma Betty never wore black eyeliner. She was beginning to wonder how much time this guy spent in the Wal-Mart make-up aisle. She laughed nervously and pretended to inspect a neat row of rose bushes, thus detaching herself from his grasp. He sensed her hesitation, but he hadn't yet deduced that she found him plain repugnant.

"Tell me all about yourself!" he went on, mentally scanning his repertoire for lines. "What are your wildest dreams, your deepest desires?"

"Horticulture" she replied stiffly.

"Oh, Bella! Let me hold you in my arms until you slumber like a wee babe! I think you'll find that I'm remarkably sensitive, and yet I'll never pressure you to go too far. This sexual tension between us is so romantic. I'm sure you'll soon be ready to surrender your eternal soul to be with me." Edward was getting desperate.

"My soul!? The one I promised to Jesus when I was baptized in my best friend's pool at my 11th birthday party?!?" she exclaimed.

"I've been watching you sleep. Doesn't that thrill you to your fingertips?" he asked incredulously. This was not going well. He'd seen trembling and fear before, but he'd never faced this kind of blatant distaste before in all his 642 years. Edward, had he still been human, would have been quite flushed.

"A vampire, eh? So...is it true what they say about you guys?" Bella asked, casually raking the ground with her foot.

Finally, he was getting somewhere. "That you can become my bride for all eternity if you feast upon my blood?" he asked hopefully.

"No...I mean the bit about how to kill you." she said, picking up a fallen branch from her pile of lawn debris.

"Oh," Edward replied, disappointed. "Yes, I suppose so." he said, growing impatient.

"So, if I was to take this makeshift stake and drive it through your heart, your physical body would disintegrate and your soul would go straight to Hell where it belongs?"

"Yes, I believe that is the case." Eddie replied, discreetly peeking at a copy of the high school annual for a more likely candidate.

"Hmm" she replied. It was so easy. The poor, ghastly wretch looked as weak as a newborn kitten, although not remotely as lovable. Bella was always looking for new, inventive ways to display good citizenship. Ridding the world of a pansy bloodsucker seemed like a good day's work to her. Bella deliberated, but not for long.

"Bella, dear." her mother called as she came out of the house. "Who were you talking to?"

"Oh, just a fellow passing through." Bella replied as she raked a fresh pile of ashes into her compost pile.