The mother of whom I wrote a few weeks ago passed away last Thursday, of complications from breast cancer. I have not seen her son, my friend, yet, though I am hoping to meet up with him tomorrow. He's set a date for a memorial service, with a reception to follow, and then a walk around a reservoir on a nature preserve in her honor.
The woman in charge of organizing the reception sent out a mass email asking if anyone might be willing to contribute snacks. I offered to bring a batch of cookies. Probably the meringues. Someone else offered to bring an 'elaborate trail mix,' for the walk, I suppose.
I saw, on this mass email list, my ex-boyfriend. And his not-so-new girlfriend. And my gut reaction was to feel pissed off. Annoyed. Angry. Maybe even a little bit jealous (He was my friend first! You never even met his mother!) and more than a little bit insecure (The not-so-new girlfriend is really nice! And really smart! And really pretty! Way nicer and smarter and prettier than the likes of me!).
Ever since the August wedding at which I had to make nice with them, there's been a huge sense of relief: for the first time in forever, he has not been much of a presence. There were no upcoming social events at which we would both be in attendance. No weddings, no birthdays, no funerals. And it was so very good.
Now here he is, lurking yet again on the horizon.
And of course the guilt kicked in immediately, along with the knowledge that I was being more petty and more selfish than even I could possibly imagine. A dear friend's mother is dead and I was upset about having to see an ex-boyfriend and my replacement at her memorial service.
I want to be a better woman, a better friend, even a better ex-girlfriend, than this.
Unrelated, mostly, but I thought I would mention here, given the lump post in September, that also last Thursday I finally made my way to my doctor's office and was given a clean bill of health.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Thursday, October 09, 2008
what i want for christmas
What I want for Christmas (other than, you know, world peace, Obama in the White House, and a winning lottery ticket) is this new ebelskiver pan.
My family has been making ebelskivers since time immemorial, traditionally for birthday or company breakfasts. Quite a few years ago I gave Nate an ebelskiver pan of his very own for Christmas and he began carrying on the family tradition in fantastic fashion, even upping the ante by adding blackberries or bits of banana to the ebelskivers (unheard of in my parents' purist ebelskiver interpretation, involving nothing more than simple 'skivers, powdered sugar, and preferably Mom's home-made raspberry jam).
But now, what with Nate far away on the West Coast, I'm thinking perhaps it's about time I indulge in purchasing one for my own kitchen. I'm not quite sold, though, on this Williams-Sonoma version. The one I bought for Nate was, I think, solid cast-iron and heavy enough to brain a moose with. This one looks a little lightweight, bantam-esque even.
On the other hand, it only costs half the price of that cast-iron monster, so maybe it's worth a go.
My family has been making ebelskivers since time immemorial, traditionally for birthday or company breakfasts. Quite a few years ago I gave Nate an ebelskiver pan of his very own for Christmas and he began carrying on the family tradition in fantastic fashion, even upping the ante by adding blackberries or bits of banana to the ebelskivers (unheard of in my parents' purist ebelskiver interpretation, involving nothing more than simple 'skivers, powdered sugar, and preferably Mom's home-made raspberry jam).
But now, what with Nate far away on the West Coast, I'm thinking perhaps it's about time I indulge in purchasing one for my own kitchen. I'm not quite sold, though, on this Williams-Sonoma version. The one I bought for Nate was, I think, solid cast-iron and heavy enough to brain a moose with. This one looks a little lightweight, bantam-esque even.
On the other hand, it only costs half the price of that cast-iron monster, so maybe it's worth a go.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
ken blackwell & voter fraud
Kenneth Blackwell, a former secretary of state of Ohio, had a little rant this week about the horrors of ACORN and the looming possibility of voter fraud. Now, it is true that ACORN has had its run-ins with, you know, maybe falsifying a voter registration form now and again. And it stands to reason that with increased numbers of people registering to vote (though who in America would, at least publicly, say this is a bad thing?) come increased chances of voter fraud.
But what the Ken Blackwells of the world refuse to cop to is the fact that voter fraud often comes in the form of Republicans trying to suppress the vote. Maybe he doesn't remember his own role in attempted voter suppression in the form of the 2004 Paper Stock Standoff of Ohio. And maybe he's forgotten the story about the fairly standard practice of purging voter rolls and how horribly wrong it went in Florida in 2000. Or the story of Republican congressional candidate Tan Nguyen and the infamous letter. And I can't help wondering what Jesus would think about the notion of using people's housing misfortunes to prevent them from voting, as is apparently being attempted by the Republican party in several states.
So yeah, voter fraud might be a problem. But it seems to be a problem of denying people their right to vote rather than, as Blackwell would have us believe, a problem of "extremist" groups like ACORN pushing people to vote. (Oddly enough, Blackwell doesn't provide any examples of individual voter fraud. He simply seems to think that increasing the number of voters is itself somehow indicative of fraud. And he uses Florida as an example, but individual voter fraud was not the issue in that election. Quite the contrary, the problems there predominantly concerned eligible voters not having their votes counted, whether due to hanging chads, the butterfly ballot, or the purging of eligible voters from the voter rolls. Correct me if I'm missing something here.)
Blackwell himself writes, "Voter fraud is a crime against democracy itself, because voting is the only means by which the people choose those who govern them - and hold them accountable."
In this, he is absolutely correct. So we should all take advantage of our right to vote, and fight anyone who tries to take that right away from people.
And as an aside, Ohio? Way to go in showing this blowhard the door in his race for governor in 2006. And I mean that seriously.
But what the Ken Blackwells of the world refuse to cop to is the fact that voter fraud often comes in the form of Republicans trying to suppress the vote. Maybe he doesn't remember his own role in attempted voter suppression in the form of the 2004 Paper Stock Standoff of Ohio. And maybe he's forgotten the story about the fairly standard practice of purging voter rolls and how horribly wrong it went in Florida in 2000. Or the story of Republican congressional candidate Tan Nguyen and the infamous letter. And I can't help wondering what Jesus would think about the notion of using people's housing misfortunes to prevent them from voting, as is apparently being attempted by the Republican party in several states.
So yeah, voter fraud might be a problem. But it seems to be a problem of denying people their right to vote rather than, as Blackwell would have us believe, a problem of "extremist" groups like ACORN pushing people to vote. (Oddly enough, Blackwell doesn't provide any examples of individual voter fraud. He simply seems to think that increasing the number of voters is itself somehow indicative of fraud. And he uses Florida as an example, but individual voter fraud was not the issue in that election. Quite the contrary, the problems there predominantly concerned eligible voters not having their votes counted, whether due to hanging chads, the butterfly ballot, or the purging of eligible voters from the voter rolls. Correct me if I'm missing something here.)
Blackwell himself writes, "Voter fraud is a crime against democracy itself, because voting is the only means by which the people choose those who govern them - and hold them accountable."
In this, he is absolutely correct. So we should all take advantage of our right to vote, and fight anyone who tries to take that right away from people.
And as an aside, Ohio? Way to go in showing this blowhard the door in his race for governor in 2006. And I mean that seriously.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
quote of the day
"Biden knows that he has to avoid being arrogant about his hard-won knowledge of world affairs without reducing everything about foreign policy to the level of 'Dr. Seuss Does Geopolitics.'"
-Walter Shapiro, The Big Veep Showdown
-Walter Shapiro, The Big Veep Showdown
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
'sweat is my sanity' and other bon mots from palin
She's a feminist (:20) because she believes in equal rights (except when it comes to equal pay for equal work, at least if she agrees with her running mate) and because she had the opportunity to fill her freezer with good wild Alaskan game to feed her family.
She mocks Joe Biden for being so damned old (2:27), being a mere six years younger than her running mate.
She reads all the news (3:00)! But can't name a single news source, and turns the question into an attack on Alaska when pushed on the matter.
She's willing to discuss her personal views on abortion (4:50) but somehow just can't seem to answer in the role of an elected official -- would she or would she not work to ban all abortions? It seems a simple question, and if she's as unapologetically pro-life as she claims, she should have no qualms about answering it. I mean, we don't care how she would "counsel" people, we want to know if she's gonna force women back to the coathangers (or knitting needles or broken soda bottles) of yore.
She has a lesbian friend! Whom she loves! Though she disagrees with the woman's life choices (8:00), and chose, herself, to be not gay!
Lastly (Palin-wise, at least), an interesting comparison between Palin and Biden answering similar questions on Supreme Court decisions with which they disagree.
And really lastly, McCain spent almost an hour with reporters from the Des Moines Register yesterday and got a little testy. Shockingly enough.
She mocks Joe Biden for being so damned old (2:27), being a mere six years younger than her running mate.
She reads all the news (3:00)! But can't name a single news source, and turns the question into an attack on Alaska when pushed on the matter.
She's willing to discuss her personal views on abortion (4:50) but somehow just can't seem to answer in the role of an elected official -- would she or would she not work to ban all abortions? It seems a simple question, and if she's as unapologetically pro-life as she claims, she should have no qualms about answering it. I mean, we don't care how she would "counsel" people, we want to know if she's gonna force women back to the coathangers (or knitting needles or broken soda bottles) of yore.
She has a lesbian friend! Whom she loves! Though she disagrees with the woman's life choices (8:00), and chose, herself, to be not gay!
Lastly (Palin-wise, at least), an interesting comparison between Palin and Biden answering similar questions on Supreme Court decisions with which they disagree.
And really lastly, McCain spent almost an hour with reporters from the Des Moines Register yesterday and got a little testy. Shockingly enough.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
'awakening mocha espresso,' or, why its best to avoid the drink & shop
I went to Duane Reade this evening with the intention of buying one of my typical utilitarian bottles of cheap shampoo. You know, something along the lines of Suave or Johnson's Baby Shampoo. With a 'do like mine, after all, there's really no need for the fancy stuff. In fact I not infrequently end up just using bar soap.
But what did I end up with tonight? Some ridiculous concoction called "Awakening Mocha Espresso Shampoo." And why, you might ask? Because it smelled good. This is what happens when you set me loose in a drug store after a margarita or two.
It was only when I got home and bothered to read the not-so-fine print on the back of this undersized (and overpriced) bottle that I fully realized perhaps this was not the way to go.
"Create rich sable tones with this exclusive blend of espresso bean extracts and cocoa bean oils for full-bodied, multi-dimensional color, along with sheer silk proteins to add a glowing luminescent shine."
But what did I end up with tonight? Some ridiculous concoction called "Awakening Mocha Espresso Shampoo." And why, you might ask? Because it smelled good. This is what happens when you set me loose in a drug store after a margarita or two.
It was only when I got home and bothered to read the not-so-fine print on the back of this undersized (and overpriced) bottle that I fully realized perhaps this was not the way to go.
"Create rich sable tones with this exclusive blend of espresso bean extracts and cocoa bean oils for full-bodied, multi-dimensional color, along with sheer silk proteins to add a glowing luminescent shine."
Monday, September 29, 2008
walls
My boss, a couple months ago, asked me somewhat randomly if I had ever read any Ursula K. LeGuin. Little did she know that Shevek was one of the greatest heroes I had as a teenager; that when Cindy and I made up (or started to make up) an entire language, I called myself Shevek-am, or Little Shevek; that I realized Dave and I would be lifelong friends the first night we met and somehow randomly bonded over The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas; that The Eye of the Heron made me cry; that Julie used to tease me about skimming through The Wind's Twelve Quarters at the drop of a hat; that Orsinian Tales has been on my favorite books list since the summer of '89 when I unearthed a worn-out, dogeared copy in the used bookstore in Pullman, WA; that I've been meaning to re-read The Farthest Shore (having read it at the tender age of 10) ever since first coming up against death, but have never quite gotten around to it.
Needless to say, while I acknowledged that indeed I have been known to read a bit of LeGuin, I thankfully managed to leave it at that.
There is a sign on 125th Street, just east of Amsterdam Avenue, that I walk by every so often on my way to the train. I smile every time I see this sign because it makes me think of The Dispossessed. I was walking along 125th Street with Nick not too long ago, after one of our weekly dinners, and I finally stopped and took a picture. And I laughed because of all the people I could be walking with, it was Nick, and he got it.
"There was a wall. It did not look important. It was built of uncut rocks roughly mortared. An adult could look right over it, and even a child could climb it. Where it crossed the roadway, instead of having a gate it degenerated into mere geometry, a line, an idea of a boundary. But the idea was real. It was important. For seven generations there had been nothing in the world more important than that wall.
Like all walls it was ambiguous, two-faced. What was inside it and what was outside it depended upon which side of it you were on.
Looked at from one side, the wall enclosed a barren sixty-acre field called the port of Anarres. On the field there were a couple large gantry cranes, a rocket pad, three warehouses, a truck garage, and a dormitory. The dormitory looked durable, grimy, and mournful; it had no gardens, no children; plainly nobody lived there or was even meant to stay there long. It was in fact a quarantine. The wall shut in not only the landing field but also the ships that came down out of space, and the men that came on the ships, and the worlds they came from, and the rest of the universe. It enclosed the universe, leaving Anarres outside, free.
Looked at from the other side, the wall enclosed Anarres: the whole planet was inside it, a great prison camp, cut off from other worlds and other men, in quarantine."
If a thing can be neither inside nor outside the wall, where can it be?
Needless to say, while I acknowledged that indeed I have been known to read a bit of LeGuin, I thankfully managed to leave it at that.
There is a sign on 125th Street, just east of Amsterdam Avenue, that I walk by every so often on my way to the train. I smile every time I see this sign because it makes me think of The Dispossessed. I was walking along 125th Street with Nick not too long ago, after one of our weekly dinners, and I finally stopped and took a picture. And I laughed because of all the people I could be walking with, it was Nick, and he got it.
"There was a wall. It did not look important. It was built of uncut rocks roughly mortared. An adult could look right over it, and even a child could climb it. Where it crossed the roadway, instead of having a gate it degenerated into mere geometry, a line, an idea of a boundary. But the idea was real. It was important. For seven generations there had been nothing in the world more important than that wall.
Like all walls it was ambiguous, two-faced. What was inside it and what was outside it depended upon which side of it you were on.
Looked at from one side, the wall enclosed a barren sixty-acre field called the port of Anarres. On the field there were a couple large gantry cranes, a rocket pad, three warehouses, a truck garage, and a dormitory. The dormitory looked durable, grimy, and mournful; it had no gardens, no children; plainly nobody lived there or was even meant to stay there long. It was in fact a quarantine. The wall shut in not only the landing field but also the ships that came down out of space, and the men that came on the ships, and the worlds they came from, and the rest of the universe. It enclosed the universe, leaving Anarres outside, free.
Looked at from the other side, the wall enclosed Anarres: the whole planet was inside it, a great prison camp, cut off from other worlds and other men, in quarantine."
If a thing can be neither inside nor outside the wall, where can it be?
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
for your saturday morning viewing (and reading) pleasure
Head of Skate
Gail Collins on McCain's debate performance: "After all that, when the wandering debater finally showed up Friday night, he just looked like a smallish, grayish, slightly grumpy guy with a grizzly obsession."
What's the deal with conservatives and bears, anyway? Here's McCain ranting about the measly little $3 million that Congress allocated to studying grizzly bear DNA, and then there was Justice Kennedy preoccupied with the welfare of Washington, DCers in the face of rampaging grizzlies back in March, as if this were a reason to overturn the ban on handguns.
Also, though I haven't really followed Chris Rock's career, I kind of love his take on this presidential election. Given the national economic situation, Rock explains, he'll "go with the guy with one house. The guy with one house is scared about losing his house."
Lastly, Paul Neuman passed away yesterday and the world lost one of the good ones.
And there you have it.
Gail Collins on McCain's debate performance: "After all that, when the wandering debater finally showed up Friday night, he just looked like a smallish, grayish, slightly grumpy guy with a grizzly obsession."
What's the deal with conservatives and bears, anyway? Here's McCain ranting about the measly little $3 million that Congress allocated to studying grizzly bear DNA, and then there was Justice Kennedy preoccupied with the welfare of Washington, DCers in the face of rampaging grizzlies back in March, as if this were a reason to overturn the ban on handguns.
Also, though I haven't really followed Chris Rock's career, I kind of love his take on this presidential election. Given the national economic situation, Rock explains, he'll "go with the guy with one house. The guy with one house is scared about losing his house."
Lastly, Paul Neuman passed away yesterday and the world lost one of the good ones.
And there you have it.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
quote of the day, or, rush & geography
"Do you know he has not one shred of African-American blood?... He's Arab. You know, he's from Africa. He's from Arab parts of Africa. He's not -- his father was -- he's not African-American. The last thing that he is is African-American."
(Rush Limbaugh, apoplectic about Obama's heritage)
If your mother is from Kansas and your father is from Kenya, you're Arab? I think maybe the drugs permanently addled poor Rush's noggin.
Also, John McCain can't partake in a 90-minute debate tomorrow night because he and Palin have to run back to the Washington to fix the economy? And instead wants the first presidential debate to replace entirely the vice presidential debate? Really?? Does anyone else find this... ridiculous? Not to mention frightening that Palin's own people don't want her debating Biden?
(Rush Limbaugh, apoplectic about Obama's heritage)
If your mother is from Kansas and your father is from Kenya, you're Arab? I think maybe the drugs permanently addled poor Rush's noggin.
Also, John McCain can't partake in a 90-minute debate tomorrow night because he and Palin have to run back to the Washington to fix the economy? And instead wants the first presidential debate to replace entirely the vice presidential debate? Really?? Does anyone else find this... ridiculous? Not to mention frightening that Palin's own people don't want her debating Biden?
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
feels like fall, or, mortality and living wills and decisions not yet made
It feels like fall today, appropriately enough: the air crisp, sun-kissed but cool, and sad in a way that is unique to the season.
I tend to get sick this time of year. Nothing serious, just a cold. A waking up one morning with a sore throat, a feverish ache around the eyes, soon followed with a cough, sniffles, sneezes. This lasts a couple days, no more, and then abrupt health again.
Towards the end of high school and throughout college, though, it was often much worse, exacerbated by lack of sleep (years of intermittent insomnia, combined with unforgivable paper-writing procrastination) and reckless living (lunch hours spent chain-smoking Marlboro 100s and mainlining coffee in the chill autumn air, shot after shot of tequila at 3 am). A week or weeks of bleary-eyed confusion, constant hacking, hoarse voice, and the smell, somehow, of wood smoke lingering in the back of my throat.
Now it is a mere nuisance, and also a sure sign that another summer is over, that winter is on its way.
The mother of one of my best friends is dying. He does not know exactly when or exactly how she will go, but it's coming. Today, next month, maybe not until after the winter has turned again to spring, but this too is on its way. They are not close, this friend of mine and his mother, and have a long and complicated history together, but still, the experience is real and present and horrible in ways I can only imagine.
My own mother called me last night to check in on this friend, to learn of any further developments. We talked for a long time, she and I -- about dinner plans, about weekend plans, about the apples on her apple trees and the apple sauce therefrom, about what we each would want in the face of incapacitation. (Two weeks, if there is even an outside chance at recovery, and then a letting go.)
I remember my father, just before his death, grabbing at the sleeve of one of the EMTs, demanding that they not cut him open, that they not go to extreme measures, and the EMT calmly replying that he would have to tell the doctors that himself.
He didn't have to in the end because there was no saving him, and there were no end-of-life decisions to be made. And for this, in a way, I am grateful.
Yesterday on the phone, this friend kept using a certain turn of phrase, a specific string of words, that I imagine he picked up from the doctors, and whose purpose clearly was to hold something at bay. He kept referring to the fact that it was not yet time, in the face of his mother not having a living will, for "moral and ethical decisions to be made."
Last night I asked my own mother to make all of this stuff official now so that some day, hopefully very, very far in the future, but whenever it comes, we will not be confronted with these same decisions. I don't know that I could stand it.
I tend to get sick this time of year. Nothing serious, just a cold. A waking up one morning with a sore throat, a feverish ache around the eyes, soon followed with a cough, sniffles, sneezes. This lasts a couple days, no more, and then abrupt health again.
Towards the end of high school and throughout college, though, it was often much worse, exacerbated by lack of sleep (years of intermittent insomnia, combined with unforgivable paper-writing procrastination) and reckless living (lunch hours spent chain-smoking Marlboro 100s and mainlining coffee in the chill autumn air, shot after shot of tequila at 3 am). A week or weeks of bleary-eyed confusion, constant hacking, hoarse voice, and the smell, somehow, of wood smoke lingering in the back of my throat.
Now it is a mere nuisance, and also a sure sign that another summer is over, that winter is on its way.
The mother of one of my best friends is dying. He does not know exactly when or exactly how she will go, but it's coming. Today, next month, maybe not until after the winter has turned again to spring, but this too is on its way. They are not close, this friend of mine and his mother, and have a long and complicated history together, but still, the experience is real and present and horrible in ways I can only imagine.
My own mother called me last night to check in on this friend, to learn of any further developments. We talked for a long time, she and I -- about dinner plans, about weekend plans, about the apples on her apple trees and the apple sauce therefrom, about what we each would want in the face of incapacitation. (Two weeks, if there is even an outside chance at recovery, and then a letting go.)
I remember my father, just before his death, grabbing at the sleeve of one of the EMTs, demanding that they not cut him open, that they not go to extreme measures, and the EMT calmly replying that he would have to tell the doctors that himself.
He didn't have to in the end because there was no saving him, and there were no end-of-life decisions to be made. And for this, in a way, I am grateful.
Yesterday on the phone, this friend kept using a certain turn of phrase, a specific string of words, that I imagine he picked up from the doctors, and whose purpose clearly was to hold something at bay. He kept referring to the fact that it was not yet time, in the face of his mother not having a living will, for "moral and ethical decisions to be made."
Last night I asked my own mother to make all of this stuff official now so that some day, hopefully very, very far in the future, but whenever it comes, we will not be confronted with these same decisions. I don't know that I could stand it.
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