DC BiblioGoddess

New blog address

2006-09-28T20:25:00.000-04:00

Now that I'm no longer a DC BiblioGoddess, I thought I'd create a new page to chronicle our adventures in Maine:

http://bibliogoddess.blogspot.com/

The creepy way my mind works

2006-09-28T14:22:00.000-04:00

I was getting dressed this morning and noticed some stains on the front of the sweater I was planning to wear (muddy Molly paws, no doubt). I was going to throw it away but then decided that if there's some sort of nuclear holocaust or government coup after which we'll become refugees and need to flee to Canada, I'll need all of the extra clothing I can get.

Time to up the meds, what do you think?

The Happy Villain Strikes Again

2006-09-20T10:47:00.000-04:00

And makes me laugh out loud in the office. Part of today's hilarity:

Dear Contemptible Germs Currently Relocating To My Sinuses:

Party crashers! Freeloaders! Parasites! Aspersers! Viruses of mass destruction! Losers destined to fail and die!

I have battled your kind before and let me tell you, you will not win.

You are nothing more than a stupid, small-time sinus infection. I have fought and won battles with invaders far superior to you, such as mononucleosis, chicken pox, pneumonia, and even a case of gangrene. You think you can take me? You are stupider than you look!

Bring it! I’ve got an immune system that will kick your ass from here to my toenails, and just for fun, I’m also on a broad-spectrum antibiotic, in case you think you might fool me looking like a virus. I have you covered on every front. You might make my bones ache, my temperature spike and my nose run like a spigot, but by this time next week, you will either be long gone from my system, or you will be dead matter being expelled regularly.

You picked the wrong girl to infect with your insidious plot to overthrow my body. You will never know victory. You are already doomed.
And if you aren’t nice and reasonably quick to depart of your own volition, I swear, I will sneeze your little babies all over Jean’s keyboard and they will then be dwelling in the body of that horrible woman I work with, who looks like Yoda. How would you like to know your kids are in that mess?

Yeah, that’s what I thought.Kindly leave. Now. Or you will die a horrible death, and your children will die a far worse death.

I have spoken.

We're on the market

2006-09-18T22:50:00.000-04:00

http://www.realtor.com/Prop/1068060054

If you know anyone looking for a very much refurbished condo with a backyard in Northwest D.C., please send them our way. It's a sweet location, just across from Glover Park, and a few blocks from Wisconsin Avenue. The building is one of the few in the city that has no restrictions on dogs. (Ask me about the folks upstairs with the pack of Australian shepherds.)

Pleeeeeeze, buy our condo!

SRP #10 and #11: Death

2006-09-04T20:25:00.000-04:00

Death: The Time of Your Life

by Neil Gaiman, Chris Bachalo, Mark Pennington (Illustrator), Mark Buckingham (Illustrator), Claire Danes

Vertigo Comics, 1997: 96 pages.

and

Death: The High Cost of Living

by Neil Gaiman, Chris Bachalo (Illustrator), Mark Buckingham (Illustrator), and Dave McKean (Illustrator)

Vertigo Comics, 1994: 103 pages.

While reading the Sandman series for the first time last year, I was particularly interested in Dream's big sister, Death. No Grim Reaper with a scythe and black robes was this ankh-wearing harbinger of the ever-after. She was a remarkably upbeat goth girl who is probably the most well-balanced and mentally healthy of all the Endless. Apparently, I wasn't the only one enamored of the character, and thus Death was the first Sandman character to be featured in a spinoff comic. Me being late to the Sandman scene, just discovered these gems.

And gems they are, indeed. The two are companions to one another, and the second featues characters we met in the first. But it's probably not necessary to read one before the other. Also, I'm pretty sure that two of the characters we actually met somewhere in the Sandman-verse.

It's difficult to discuss the plot, because there are many characters who have an impact on the doings, twists and turns in the storylines, and plots that weave around one another to join in the climax. But one of the aspects of these comics that most impresses me is the way in which Death, and death, is shown to be something that we should not fear, something that often gets missed in American society. Death is a normal part of life, just another phase in human existence. I think that's one of the points Gaiman is trying to make in his portrayal of Death. It makes for an engaging character that I want to read more about.

==============================================
Summer Reading Program Totals:

Books read: 11
Total pages read: 2132

Knitting up a storm

2006-09-04T20:07:00.000-04:00

In anticipation of our move, I've been trying to use up all of the odd bits of yarn, particularly the low-rent items by knitting a lot of hats and scarves. The end results are depicted here, including a new SnB umbilical hat and a matching child's scarf with checkerboard stitch on the end. I have also completed a new drop-stitch, self-fringing shawl, in KnitPicks' Crayon yarn. It's soft and warm, though the draping isn't quite right because I made it a bit too big. Here are the visual depictions:

SRP #9: In the Shadow of No Towers

2006-09-03T22:27:00.001-04:00

In the Shadow of No Towers

by Art Spiegelman

Pantheon: 2004, 42 pages.

The first half of the book was good, relevant to what one would think the book is all about, judging by the title and introduction. Spiegelman's artwork is slightly insane, as if you're looking through the eyes of a schizophrenic. The style is certainly appropriate considering the book's subject matter, and the tabloid-size pages meet the needs of this size-y subject.

However, the work lost it completely at the halfway point, where it veers off into a history of comics in the United States. Interesting, yes. But the divergence was unnecessary and really detracted from the 9-11 portion of the book.
=============================

Summer Reading Program Totals:

Books read: 9
Total pages read: 1933

SRP #7 and #8

2006-08-26T20:35:00.000-04:00

Mirrormask
by Neil Gaiman and Dave McKean

Harper Collins, 2005: 80 pages.

The more of Neil Gaiman's work I read, the more I wonder what living inside his head is like. Demented and cool, I would guess, judging from the muddle of worlds, stories, and characters to be found in Mirrormask. In these pages, Helena, the juggling daughter of circus folk, is drawn into an alternative universe of her own, well, drawings. Meanwhile, a princess from that other world inserts herself into Helena's life, which isn't so fabulous at the moment. The story is brilliantly told through words (not just what they say but also their arrangement, typeface, etc.) as well as pictures. But not just ordinary illustrations; McKean's artwork leaves you with a feeling of queasiness as you look into a world that's not quite right, as if you're viewing it through the eyes of someone who is actually seeing through hallucinations. The artwork and storyline lead to an ambiguity similar to that of Neverwhere, where you're not sure if the protagonist is in another plane or is just plain mad. And that is one of the book's charms. The pairing of Gaiman and McKean strikes again.

==============================

Blue Shoes and Happiness
by Alexander McCall Smith

Pantheon, 2006: 240 pages.

I'll try to be footloose and spoiler free in my review. Smith returns to Botswana again for another sojourn into the world of Precious Ramotswe and the various characters, and I mean that in the non-literary sense, around her. The mysteries solved this go-round included frightened workers at a game park, a blackmailed cook, and a nurse concerned about her employer's practice of medicine. The personal storylines include a misunderstanding over feminism, a shoe fetish, and high blood pressure. BSaH was much like the earlier books in this series: funny, touching, full of wisdom and insight into Botswana culture. I was a little disappointed, however, that we didn't get to see more of Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni or the foster children. However, Mr. Polopesi was featured in more depth as was Phuti Radiphuti. This was an enjoyable, light read, and one I recommend.

=============================

Summer Reading Program Totals:

Books read: 8
Total pages read: 1891

One more week!

SRP #6: Adoption Nation

2006-08-13T21:46:00.000-04:00

Adoption Nation
by Adam Pertman

Basic Books, 2001: 272 pages.

AN provides a thorough portrait of the current state of adoption in the United States, while interspersing historical tidbits that help to illustrate how the current system developed into what it is today. What impressed me most about the book is the fact that the author, despite being the adoptive parent of two children, shows the system warts and all. He is honest about the role of the profit motive in adoption in the United States, which for many years existed as a baby-selling enterprise. He talks about the religious (and not in a good way) motives of some of the major players in the adoption business, undue influence on political processes that have negatively affected all players in the adoption "triad," the impact of racism in determining which children are more adoptable than others, etc. But that's just the stuff that I find most interesting. The good news is that adoption in its current form is changing the face (quite literally) of the American family for the better.

================================================
Summer Reading Program Totals:
Books read: 6
Total pages read: 1571

SRP #5: Marvel 1602

2006-08-12T19:48:00.000-04:00

Marvel 1602
by Neil Gaiman, Andy Kubert

Marvel Comics, 2005: 248 pages.

Many, including my beloved husband, would not consider a graphic novel to be a "book," but screw 'em. Neil Gaiman scored once again with this one, cementing his position as a master storyteller. The tale transports many of the familiar Marvel characters into Elizabethan England and sets them amid the intrigue of the day, the horrors of the Inquisition, the mysteries of the Templars. The X-Men appear as "witchbreed," individuals with special powers trying to stay one step ahead of the Grand Inquisitor, led by Carlos Javier. Peter Parquah is a sort of apprentice to Nick Fury, spymaster to the Virgin Queen, who is offed pretty early in the story. Matt Murdock is here a blind travelling minstrel. Dr. Stephen Strange and his wife appear as well. The story works well, keeps the reader engaged, and easily transfers 2oth century comics' themes of justice into an era of witchburnings, political machinations, and conversion by torture. The artwork, meanwhile, is phenomenal. All around, a good show.

================================================
Summer Reading Program Totals:
Books read: 5
Total pages read: 1299

More knitting pics

2006-08-04T11:04:00.000-04:00

Catching up on my backlog.

This was the baby blanket I did for my sweet Nevaeh, finished about a month after her first birthday. The yarn is a possum-wool blend I purchased in New Zealand. It's wonderfully soft and warm, yet very light as well. Kevin chose the color. The pattern is the Big Bad Baby Blanket, again from Stitch 'n Bitch. These photos don't really show off the texture of the pattern, which is very simple yet striking.

New knitting pics

2006-08-03T22:57:00.000-04:00

This is the shawl I began on our trip to New England in May. (Because I didn't have my driver's license and couldn't drive, I got a lot of knitting done on that trip. The pattern is a free one from KnitPicks, and the yarn is their Twist, in the Broadway Lights color.

These two shots are of the umbilical cord hat from Stitch 'N Bitch, in a yarn I bought two years ago. I think it's from Lion's Brand.

DCBibliogoddess Not for Long

2006-07-27T11:47:00.000-04:00

The news is official: We will be moving to Maine!

Kevin was offered a job with the one law firm in Portland that specializes in immigration law, one that will pay more than he is making in DC at the moment. In a gorgeous place with fresh ocean breezes, minimal traffic, and friendly people.

Right now, the plan is that he will move up at the end of August with the majority of our possessions, and I will join him about a month later. I am to remain in DC to get the condo ready to sell and so that I can stay employed and insured as long as possible.

I have applied for two different positions (one for a coordinator of IL programs: "Wouldn't it be love-e-ly"), so of course if I would happen to get hired, this plan could change.

But whee . . . muy excited!

How, oh how

2006-07-22T11:09:00.000-04:00

Have I managed to get through this past 22 years without having watched Repo Man?

BTW, kudos to IMDB for the new format that includes the actor's photo next to the cast listing!

Grrrrrr, UPS bastards

2006-07-17T23:39:00.001-04:00

I had a package shipped from the convention center with some of the crap I had picked up there at that point, such as some items I had bought at the ALA store and from the folks at Overdue Media (including a signed copy of one of the Unshelved books: WAAAAAHHHH!). In the process of travelling halfway across the country, I lost the receipt that has the tracking number on it, which is apparently the key to all secrets of the universe. You can't use UPS's customer service mechanisms without it.

So, today I call UPS to see if they could look up the credit card I used to pay for the shipment to locate the tracking number. The CSR informs me that the tracking number is the only way to look for a record in the system. This raises the question:

Who the frakking hell would design a database that can only be searched using One. Frakking. Field.?!?!?!!!!

Could you imagine a library catalog that you could only search by author? Or, not even author, because that would make too much sense. A more appropriate comparison would be to an obscure MARC field that is an alternative to the ISBN but that isn't available by looking at a copy of the book.

So, I can't track my package, and from what the CSR was telling me, neither can UPS. (I'm actually pretty sure this is a crock of shit.) I wonder how quickly they'll find that tracking number if I call to have my credit card credited, since the services paid for were never rendered?

Can corporate America suck any more?

SRP Book #4: Geography Club

2006-07-16T12:06:00.000-04:00

Geography Club
by Brent Hartinger
New York: HarperTempest; Reprint edition, 2004. 240 p.

========================================================

I picked this one up because:

A: I saw the author speak at ALA in a session on GBLTQ materials for teens, and he seemed like a really cool guy.

B: I am ass-deep in serious nonfic or lengthy fiction, and needed a quick afternoon read before I started to get suicidal over all the books I have in progress that I probably won't finish before they're due back at the library.

C: Anything that is gonna piss off a Reich Winger is fine with me.

Anyway, I liked the book a great deal. It has to do with a group of students at an average American high school and is narrated by one, Russel, who is gay. Russel goes from believing he is the only gay student in the school to realizing he is not alone in this. Along the way, he makes friends, meets a guy, faces his own conscience, and becomes a baseball star. I won't go into too many details lest I spoil anything, but this book rang true to me on so many levels and, like "Law and Order," seemed to be ripped from the headlines. The emotions of the characters were all honest, which lends credibility to the story and the characters. Everyone is multidimensional, with no one person being a complete angel or an utter villain. (Except for, perhaps, the local fundie minister.) Russel can be snarky in a fun way, and none of the high school characters are speaking like they're 40-year-old English lit professors (a peeve of mine). There's a reason this book has won awards and gotten recognition. I'm glad I've finally gotten around to checking it out first hand.

==============================================================
Summer Reading Program Totals:
Books read: 4
Total pages read: 1051

ALA: the aftermath

2006-07-13T22:44:00.000-04:00

* I find it incredibly amusing that I was sober most of the time I was in New Orleans, but I go to hang out with a couple 70 year olds and get completely wasted. I love Gary and Rosemary.

* Finally met the wonderful Judy Card, who drove me from New Orleans to Moss Point. She is just as lively, and intelligent, and lovely as I've been told. And she's a UTK grad to boot!

* Rosemary and I had some great discussions about librarianship (she suggested strongly that Kevin and I budget for me to go to ALA every year and to join a committee or two), the Martin and Jernegan family secrets (including the ones I'd always wondered about), the situation on the Gulf Coast, and more.

* Dinners with Gary: This man can cook things so well that I'll eat things that normally make me gag. This trip these included veal and duck (with a nice blackberry chipotle sauce). And I got in my fried green tomatoes at a sweet Italian bistro in Ocean Springs: Had a FGT sandwich.

* The damage to the Gulf Coast is just as horrific as in New Orleans, except in a different way because it was caused by the storm itself rather than broken levees. There are still bridges out everywhere, including a small neighborhood one in Moss Point and the one that connects Ocean Springs and Biloxi. Gary drove me around Pascagoula, where entire neighborhoods are now just NOTHING. The main branch of Jackson-George, where Rosemary used to work, will have to be gutted. Nothing was salvagable. And so many businesses are never going to reopen, including O'Sullivan's fish market.

*

Stellar editorial on medical ethics (or lack thereof) in Iraq

2006-07-13T22:37:00.000-04:00

From the Washington Post. It's a must-read for people who still believe that the United States must be held to the Geneva Conventions. I think that any medical professional who was shown to have collaborated in these events or who turned a blind eye to them must be stripped of their professional credentials immediately. Otherwise, the Hippocratic Oath has no integrity whatsoever.

By Steven H. Miles
Sunday, July 9, 2006; Page B01

In November 2003, an Iraqi guard smuggled a pistol into the U.S. military prison at Abu Ghraib and gave it to a prisoner, Ameen Saeed al-Sheik. Tipped off, military police quickly began a cell-to-cell search. When they reached his cell, Sheik went for the hidden pistol; gunfire was exchanged and a sergeant was hit. According to sworn testimony, the soldiers wrestled the prisoner to the floor and sent him to the hospital with a dislocated shoulder and shotgun wounds to his legs.

When Sheik returned to prison, he was beaten with a baton and his arms were handcuffed over his head, putting stress on his injured shoulder and leg. On a cold night, a medic, Sgt. Theresa Adams, saw Sheik naked and bleeding from a catheter that should have been connected to a bag to prevent infection. According to a sworn statement, the physician on call (who held the rank of colonel) agreed that the hospital had erred in leaving the catheter open but refused to remove it or to transfer Sheik to a hospital. When Adams asked him whether he had ever heard of the Geneva Conventions, the physician answered, "Fine, Sergeant, you do what you have to do; I am going back to bed."

In May 2004, photographs of prisoners being abused at Abu Ghraib shocked the world. When I saw the pictures, a simple question came to mind: Where were the prison doctors, nurses and medics while this abuse was happening?

Based on my review of tens of thousands of pages of declassified government documents, congressional testimony, press accounts and reports by human rights organizations, the answer is clear: Many armed forces physicians, nurses and medics have been passive and active partners in the systematic neglect and abuse of prisoners. At facilities in Iraq, Afghanistan and Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, the United States often failed to provide prisoners with minimally adequate medical and health systems. Some physicians and psychologists provided information that was used to determine the harshness of physically and psychologically abusive interrogations, which were then monitored by health professionals. Some doctors responsible for the medical records of detainees omitted evidence of abuse from their official reports. Medical personnel who knew of this system of neglect, abuse and torture remained silent.

A few comments on ALA

2006-07-12T22:45:00.000-04:00

Yes, I realize I am running way behind here. It's been three weeks since I left New Orleans, and two since I've been back to work. The heat has addled me somewhat.

New Orleans was a wonderful and terrible experience at once. Wonderful because of the people I met and the information I learned, but terrible by the knowledge of the hell that New Orleans and its people have been through and by the fact that people in power let it happen and have yet to do much about it.

Anyway, some highlights:

* Meeting and staying with the Chatties was a fabulous time, even if I didn't see them but 30 minutes a day sometimes.

* Why, oh why, did Neil Gaiman have to be signing books and speaking at the same time as the one session that was most relevant to my job?

* I think the tool that would have been most useful is a Time Turner, so I could attend multiple sessions at the same time, have dinner with different groups, and spend much more time on the exhibit floor.

* I was somewhat disturbed being in the nice, sparkly clean, convention center, knowing the hell that it was last August, that people spent their horrific last moments there, that others didn't know if they were going to be rescued.

* The meeting of and dinner with the Progressive Librarians Guild were quite refreshing for me. It reminded me that there is more to librarianship than MARC records, database handouts, and cranky faculty members: We have responsibilities to work toward the greater public good. Also, I was proud that I was able to speak up and contribute to the discussion.

* The session by the John Doe librarians in Connecticut was thrilling and positively terrifying at the same time. For one, we found out before the rest of the world that the FBI was dropping the demand for information, mainly due to the negative publicity the agency received. That moment made me proud to be a librarian and information activist. On the other hand, the tales they told demonstrate the extent to which this country has devolved. As one of the speakers mentioned, they went from cataloging Kafka to living it. For instance, at the hearing about the case, they were not allowed to MAKE EYE CONTACT with their OWN ATTORNEYS, lest someone realize they were the defendants in the case. Meanwhile, the FBI left their names in documents that had been redacted and released to the press. Despite that mistake, they were not allowed to tell their own spouses what was going on (could you imagine telling your spouse "Sorry honey, I'm not going to work today but have to go to Manhattan instead, but I can't tell you why?"). If the government so much as thought they might have done something that would indicate they were the defendants, the John Does could be arrested and incarcerated.

* I was somewhat disappointed by some of the instructional sessions, in that they weren't much relevant outside of the undergraduate milieu.

* I was incredibly impressed by the big names in some of the sessions. One afternoon, I decided to catch a session on intelligent design and library collections. After a few minutes, I realize that one of the speakers was Rev. Barry Lynn of Americans United for the Separation of Church and State. Another session on materials for gay and lesbian teens included two famous authors, including one whose book was banned in his own hometown.

* I missed the keynotes by Madeline Albright and Cokie Roberts. However, Anderson Cooper's made me bawl.

* ALA allowed me to meet some great librarians: Carrie in Staten Island, Jamie in Indiana, Laura in Houston.

* On the night of the Free Speech Buffet (which interestingly did not involve any food), I ran into Caroline, who used to be an intern at NVCC Annandale. She had received a fellowship to attend ALA for free, assuming she worked at the conference. She was writing for the daily paper there. Why the hell didn't I know about these things when I was in grad school?

* One evening when my plans had to be quickly changed when I couldn't find the Bites with LIRT group because I didn't know whose name the reservation was under, I ended up (after a so-so meal at a place called Sammy's where two Asian staff members kept going to the bathroom together) listening to good jazz at a place called the Maison Bourbon. I had a mint julep in addition to my usual cranberry and vodka. A wonderful, wonderful place.

* The volunteer effort on Tuesday went well. I was at the Children's Resource Center, on Napoleon Avenue. The library hadn't been flooded but had suffered water damage due to blow out windows. Our main function was to put books back on the shelves in time for a reopening ceremony at three. After a brief stint trying to books on the shelves (with four people in one six-foot aisle, it was not a happy place to be), I ended up outside helping to move broken-down book boxes to the curb, where the NOPL facilities folks hauled them away. It was hot, sweaty work, and I got a slight sunburn. To keep hydrated, we were told to drink about one bottle of water an hour. Most of the work was completed by lunch, which was a standard but decent boxed lunch. After lunch, because there wasn't much for us to do, we mainly milled around waiting for the official ceremony, after which the buses were to pick us up to return us to the convention center. Since Judy Card was picking me up at the site, I ended up missing the ceremony.

SRP Book #3

2006-07-02T18:28:00.000-04:00

Dark Ages America: The Final Phase of Empire
by Morris Berman
New York : W.W. Norton, 2006. 416 p.
===========================================================
Wow.

Like the concept of the Butterfly Effect that relates to nature, this book demonstrates with ample evidence the threads that tie together the history of the United States, its culture and priorities past and present, and the situation the country finds itself in today. From involvement in the Philippines to Mossadegh to anti-intellectualism to 9-11, it's all in there. One phrase that summed up this phenomenon for me, quoted by the author from another source (I returned the book to the library already and thus can't quote) was "they hate us because we don't even know why they hate us." This single phrase demonstrates just why this country is on a downward slide: It's not just what the U.S. has done to "them" over the past couple hundred years, but that the vast majority of Americans are too damned ignorant and too damned wrapped up in this week's episode of Survivor to care. Except for those who see the whole thing in the context of enlightened Westerners doing what's best for the heathen hordes, and I'm not sure which group is worse.

But anyway, back to that downward slide thing. Berman makes a convincing argument that this country is on its last legs, including a comparison of current events and attitudes to those seen in the Roman Empire just before everything went to hell in a handbasket. All of his references are well-cited and will provide you with a couple more months of reading (start with Chalmers Johnson). This is not a book with a happy ending, but it is a truthful one.

In sum, this is one we all need to go read.

Oh, one comment not so relevant to the review. At one point, Berman uses an example of a librarian at the circ desk of a major East Coast university who had never heard of a call number to illustrate just how ignorant Americans can be. Knowing university libraries, I'd guess that the "librarian" was actually an undergraduate work study. Not many libraries will spend the money to put degreed librarians, or even full-time paras, to work staffing circ. And the student probably had only started work recently at that, if they weren't yet aware of the joy of call numbers. But anyway, just had to get that off my chest.

Again, go read this book!
===========================================================

Summer Reading Program Totals:

Books read: 3
Total pages read: 811

Dear asshats at National on Friday, June 23

2006-07-01T15:56:00.000-04:00

Yeah, Families Barth, Blough, et al., I'm talking to you.

I know that getting Barrington and Edmund off to Stripper Sodomizing Camp, or wherever rich white teenage boys from Potomac spend their summers these days, is a priority, but out here in the real world we have this interesting concept called the line, or the queue. That means you wait until it's your turn before going up to the counter to be served. You don't move ahead of people who have been waiting for an hour to go up and be served along with your or your child's friends. When the agent points you toward a kiosk, you go to the end of the line that is already there.

In summary, please go fuck yourselves and take the private jet next time you need to fly the friendly skies.

Blessed Litha!

2006-06-21T10:39:00.000-04:00

Now, go light some fires and celebrate!

A nonfiction ho strikes again, aka SRP Book 2

2006-06-12T21:57:00.000-04:00

The Childless Revolution: What It Means to be Childless Today
by Madelyn Cain

Cambridge, Mass.: Perseus, 2001.
190 pages

I can't write much subjectively on this book, because its topic is one that is much on my mind as of late and I don't want to fling my black on the walls here, so to speak. Hence, I'll give you a quick run-down, and you can decide whether to check the book out.

Cain's book is an excellent starting point for those interested in researching the phenomenon of childless women in American society today, which according to Cain's research is a topic the social sciences have neglected to a large extent. There is almost no literature on the subject, or at least there wasn't as of this book's publishing. The past five years may have changed things somewhat. In addition to reviewing the sparse existing literature, Cain speaks with experts as well as more than 100 childless/childfree women.

The book is generally organized by category of women: Those who are deliberately childfree (notice the nomenclature here), those who want children but are unable to have them, and those who ended up childless through happenstance. She also includes chapters on misperceptions and personal views, which includes what was for me one of the interesting tidbits of the book: That prior to writing this book, Cain believed that all women wanted to become mothers. The personal education she herself experienced demonstrates why books on "elephant in the room" topics like childlessness are imperative. Now, if we can just get these books to the people who need to read them.

Any ideas?

Summer Reading Program Totals:
Books read: 2
Total pages read: 395

Poop

2006-06-12T21:48:00.000-04:00

Damn, shit, hell, fuck.

)-:

Summer Reading Program Book 1: "The Twilight of American Culture"

2006-06-08T21:52:00.000-04:00

I'm participating in a Summer Reading Program for grown-ups being coordinated by fellow librarian Kat With a K. Until August 31, each time I read a book I will be reviewing it here. My goal for the summer is to read seven books, in addition to three works of graphic nonfiction: Art Spiegelmann's In the Shadows of No Towers and Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis books.

This book I began before the start of the summer, but because I finished it after June 1, it counts toward my total.

The Twilight of American Culture
by Morris Berman

New York : Norton, 2000.
205 p.

I decided to read this book for two reasons. First of all, the author has a new book out that has gotten a lot of acclaim, and I decided if I wanted to read it, I needed to check out its predecessor. Second, for one very brief (a month or less) period in the late 1990s, Morris Berman was my editorial supervisor when I worked at Aspen. He was a little weird compared to the existing culture there, which is one of the reasons he left so quickly after being hired. I'm not sure whose decision it was, but his way of treating employees like human beings and of telling our federal clients when they were full of shit did not go over well with The Powers That Be. (He was an advocate for me in one of my early encounters working with the Methamphetamine Interagency Task Force.)

Back to the book. TTOAC was an engaging read that went quickly. I slid through the first half fairly easily, probably because it consisted of more commentary and history than anything else. Essentially, his thesis is that we're screwed. Factors such as the expectation for entertainment in all things, declining education systems and cultural literacy, increasing anti-intellectualism, the widening socioeconomic gulf, etc., are major contributors to the twilight mentioned in the title. Some of his premises were a bit over the top, but he makes his case well. The second half focuses on what can be done. The central approach mentioned is a return to the monastic approach that helped preserve the documents of ancient Greece and Rome during the Dark Ages. This is where the book became more like a philosophy text and Berman lost me a bit. But even here, the concepts weren't difficult to grasp. I'd recommend this one, and I look forward to the current book: Dark Ages America, which continues the discussion began in TTOAC.

The book made an interesting corollary to a discussion on the possibility of a new Renaissance that came up in a presentation today at the OCLC CAPCON annual meeting. The speaker is writing a book on the Renaissance Generation and made some interesting points. But the relevant one is that before there can be a renaissance, there must be death. The pagan in me loved the birth-death-rebirth concept being addressed in a professional light (she also talked about the Goddess and how women are taking control over what is said about them in the media). But listening to her discourse, I wondered to what extent Berman's decline in American culture is going to be part of this death, which will eventually lead to the renaissance. Interestingly, the audience talked about this death in a much more physical, as opposed to simply cultural, manner, expressing belief that climate change and the havoc it will wreak will be the impetus for renaissance.

Summer Reading Program Totals:
Books read: 1
Total pages read: 205

My TV Star

2006-06-07T23:56:00.000-04:00

I'm falling somewhat behind in posting because of last week's craziness and emotional upheaval, but I had to add this somewhere. After being quoted in an AP article published around the world, interviewed in the Washington Post, and featured on several talk radio programs, my husband has now appeared on national television, on PBS's News Hour with Jim Lehrer. Isn't he handsome and articulate? Although his first words to me when he called me from the cab on the way home: "Well, I didn't vomit." Apparently, that was a possibility at one point.

I'm so very proud. But it is a little weird thinking that I sleep next to this pundit whose face has been seen by millions. It makes me wonder about other content-area experts you see on the news: Do they snore? Do they cry when they have to drop off their dog at the vet? Do they like to putter in their garden and lay their own brick? What sort of human beings are they when they're not being all erudite and shit?

CSA Squee!

2006-06-07T23:28:00.000-04:00

No, I'm not talking about the new what-if historical fiction film about the Confederate States of America, today's topic is my new favorite thing: community-supported agriculture. Here's what Wikipedia has to say about it:

Community-supported agriculture (CSA) is a relatively new socio-economic model of food production, sales and distribution aimed at both increasing the quality of food and the quality of care given the land, plants and animals – while substantially reducing potential food losses and financial risks for the producers. It is also a method for small-scale commercial farmers and gardeners to have a successful, small-scale closed market. CSA’s focus usually on a system of weekly delivery or pick-up of vegetables, sometimes also flowers, fruits, herbs and even milk or meat products in some cases. A variety of production and economic sub-systems are in use worldwide.

I've been interested in the concept for a couple years, ever since I learned about Washington's Green Grocer and started ordering from them. I eventually quit the service because of the cost, but my yearning for locally grown produce that hasn't been genetically engineered or doused in pesticides has remained unabated. Finally, I'm back on track. After not getting our acts together in time last year because of the possibility of a move, Kevin and I have gotten a share in a farm out in the Eastern Panhandle: the Fresh and Local CSA. And after three months of anticipation, we received our first delivery this week, picking up our paper bag of produce at a house over in AU Park, where it and 20 others had been left on a volunteer's porch along with a clipboard and a roster of subscribers.

Our inaugural bag contained:

Collard greens.
Salad mix.
Arugula.
Tatsoi, also known as spoon greens.
Green onions.
Cauliflower.
Garlic scapes.
One strange tuber that was eventually identified as a kohlrabi.

I was giddy with joy at the lovely veggies. The cauli was purple and white, and more textured on the surface than your Safeway variety. I'm considering it to be an heirloom cauli, the sort of vegetable you'd see in a victory garden before the only varieties available were those that would look pretty on a supermarket display. The scapes are apparently the green shoot that grows from the garlic head and is about two feet long. They need to be sauteed just a bit to take away the toughness, but they have a light garlic flabor.

Our first CSA-related meal involved a salad made of the kohlrabi (a sort of combination of a radish and a cabbage, that tastes like a tangy cauli) and apple, with a cream and mustard dressing, as well as a salad of the greens. Hot dogs were the main dish. It was lovely, and I was so giddy at eating a new vegetable -- though I'm not sure how new; I think Dad may have grown kohlrabi in the yard when we lived in the trailer -- that I couldn't stop smiling. The next night I made an arugula and bacon quiche. (I *heart* quiche: What a great way to use whatever is hanging around in your fridge.) The family gourmet thought it was wonderful: Arugula has a pretty strong peppery flavor, but the bacon and the cheese complemented it as did a little balsamic vinegar.

Tomorrow will be leftovers of both previous meals, some more mixed greens, and probably either a sandwich or hot dog. Kevin is down to less than a week before the LSATs, so we're staying simple on the food lest it take time away from practice exams.

Oh, and to top off all of this food-related joy, we enjoyed our first homemade ice cream tonight. We, well Kevin, finally bought the ice cream maker attachment to the KitchenAid. The timing coincided with a sale on somewhat decent strawberries, so we made strawberry ice cream. It is heavenly.

Mmmmmmm.

RIP Pam

2006-05-29T12:03:00.000-04:00

May you have found the peace you sought.

Hold Your Kitties Tightly Tonight

2006-05-18T14:36:00.000-04:00

But not so tightly that they get upset and scratch you.

The past week or so have been a rough one on my heart as far as animals are concerned. Last Tuesday, I think it was, I saw a cat dying after being hit by a car on Reservoir Road on my way in to work. As I was walking, I saw the animal on the road and assumed it was dead, though the cars passing over it made the fur ruffle a bit. But then the whole body moved when no cars were near and I realized it was still alive. The cat, a grey tabby, was convulsing as it tried to breathe. I took another look and realized the cat was missing half it's skull, or neck, or something. I was paralyzed: I wanted to help the cat or in any case see if there was a collar identifying someone who could be contacted, but at the same time I was scared to, afraid I couldn't handle it, not wanting to get near the horror that was left. But at the same time, there was this dying creature. Someone probably loved him/her. I even wondered if this might be the cat those Lost poster was stuck all over Glover Park. But even so, I just couldn't do it. I am so ashamed to say that I walked away. But as I continued walking, a man came down from the back entrance to GUMC and looked at the cat. I figure he either saw the cat get hit or did it himself. I felt somewhat better after that, knowing that someone would act, but I was in desperate need of comfort all day. The closest I got was a virtual hug from Kevin. When I walked past on my way home, the cat was gone, so someone apparently acted on it. My evening I spent snuggling with Cali.

Several days passed before I didn't see that heaving kitty every time I closed my eyes. Just went I thought I was past it, I noticed several dead baby birds on the sidewalk behind one of the GUMC buildings, apparently having fallen out of their nest, either on their own or with help.

Thoughts on New England: Part Two

2006-05-06T21:31:00.000-04:00

About the Portland to home portion of the trip:

I ate lobster. And I liked it. For those who have known me for a while, you will realize what a departure from SOP this is.
A "Redemption Center" in New England, contrary to my first thoughts, is not a storefront fundamentalist church. It's where you take your glass and plastic to be recycled.
I like the idea of living in a place progressive and smart enough to pay people to recycle.
Dreaming about the lovelies from CSI is good. But when the same dream involves Woody Allen running across a field while wearing boxer shorts and a wifebeater, you just want to pour chlorine into your brain.
We breakfasted at a cute coffee bar called The Udder Place, where I had a tasty blueberry muffin, a bagel, a terrific fruit smoothie, and a less fabulous but nonetheless yummy coffee-banana-chocolate shake.
I wonder what perimenopause looks like when you're on the Pill. My body has been doing some weird things lately, and I have to wonder what's behind the activity (or lack thereof) in there.
One advantage of having kids as opposed to dogs: You can take them into museums and stores and restaurants with you. I browsed nary a bookshop or yarn store this trip.
Portland downtown is a cross of interesting and scary: Artsy attractions such as museums and galleries, cafes and pedestrian-only areas, a fair amount of homeless and others who haven't been taking their meds, middle-aged women as well as pregnant smoking girls pushing baby strollers, professionals in suits and shirtsleeves, small shops and a L.L. Bean outlet.
Southern Maine Community College has a gorgeous campus just up from a beach on the bay. I could work there easily. USM, on the other hand, isn't so picturesque.
Husband got sick in the last couple days, but the upshot is that I think he's finally convinced that he must quit smoking before he ends up like his mother.
Molly had many firsts on this trip: She had her first ice cream cone in MA; in Portland, she had her first meeting with an ocean; in RI, her first car wash. The first she thought was fabulous. The second was incredible until a lab puppy named Nuala played a little too hard and nearly drowned her (Molly was trying to roll over and be submissive in a foot of water.) The third she was less than impressed with, jumping back as the brushes hit the car.
Rhode Island seems to be a mix of very blue-collar and under folks that make WV look progressive and middle-class (at one point when lost looking for Roger Williams U., I told Kevin to "find someone with all their teeth and ask for directions") and very olde money sailing sorts.
I lost one of my oldest, favorite sweaters this week. It was a salmon cotton sweater that matched one of my favorite pairs of summer not-quite-ankle-length pants. (Note: When the dog chews off both ends of a pen, immediately discard pen while looking around for leaking ink. Do not put pen in a cup holder only to notice the ink while cleaning out the used gum and grabbing your iPod. And if you do so, resist that first reflex to wipe off the ink on the nearest surface, which will probably be yourself.)

Thoughts on New England: Part One

2006-05-06T20:24:00.000-04:00

A.K.A., "Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue."

We have made it back successfully from our sorta-working vacation in New England, the goal of which was to scout out areas where we might relocate after Kevin is accepted to law schools. I'm feeling particularly lazy but nonetheless wanted to get my thoughts down, so I'm going to use the lazy writer's way and just use bullet points. (As editors for the feds, we were always told to bullet the text. I always wondered if it was because our readers--judges, police officers, attorneys, and the like--were too damn stupid to comprehend text in paragraph form.) So, here is an incomplete recap:

The trip started on a stellar note: I left my wallet on the roof of the car at the Chevron in Glover Park, just as we were leaving. Happily, though, I found out a couple days later that a nice COTR from Labor and his roommate found it. Unfortunately, this was already after I'd cancelled my credit cards and a minor breakdown.
The process of cancelling the cards made us late getting into New Jersey, which meant that we couldn't use the reservations Kev's friend and his fiancee had made at a Hot. Cool. Restaurant. So, I felt horrifically guilty from my arrival.
Jersey City is rather a dump.
My first exposure to New England drivers involved their predisposition to double park anywhere and any time. Other impressions involved the willingness to ignore lane markings, particularly in traffic congestion, and just drive anywhere.
Instead of the Hot. Cool. Restaurant. where we were originally slated to dine, we went to another Hot. Cool. Restaurant. in Brooklyn. After driving for an hour in stop-and-go, Jersey-migrating-to-the-City traffic.
I felt like a fat worm in said restaurant, amid all of the hip New Yorkers dressed for a Saturday night, while I sat there in my library-issue cardigan and khakis with travel hair. This did not help my post-wallet-loss, pre-menstrual disposition whatsoever.
The fiancee was nice enough, though definitely one of those people who aren't like my people, KWIM? I'm Airplane!; she's Woody Allen.
Molly didn't destroy anything in Florian's house, surprisingly enough.
I have finally discovered how to order fried eggs like I like them: over medium. Such an epiphany.
We scored with our hotel, the Best Western in Concord. It was near major roads and clean, gave us a first-floor room so that we could shuttle the dogs out the patio door, and run by a sweet elderly woman with an Irish accent.
The Metrowest 'burbs in Boston are nice and nothing like suburbs here. There are almost no strip malls or chain restaurants; towns are distinct entities with an individual town center as well as wooded areas in between them, as opposed to one huge entity with arbitrary lines drawn.
Downtown Boston is one huge clusterfuck of one-way streets, which the New England driving style makes even more incoherent. It's a lovely urban center, though, for the most part. We had a good time, even in the rain, walking the dogs in the giant downtown park.
Boston College's campus reminds me of Georgetown, right down to the priggish white kids strolling around.
From Boston until Portland, I was struck by the absence of churches outside the UCC-Catholic-Unitarian-Trinitarian combination. No Assembly of Gods, no First Church of the Redeemer Who Loves Us All, no charismatics. I found it refreshing, and it recommended the area as a possible home.
We saw the Cape Ann peninsula in a proper light, as the day was raining and foggy.
Suburbs are different in their own ways, but ghettos seem to be all alike with little differentiation. You have to have your check cashing places, your liquor stores and convenience marts for cigarettes and snacks, a few burned-out buildings, at least one teenager pushing a stroller, and a few kids way to young to be on a major highway without an adult doing just that.
After starting and then ripping out my work about 10 times, I finally got a good start on my latest knitting project: a drop-stitch shawl. I'm not liking the Twist yarn much: The different fibers separate too easily. But I've got the hang of the pattern, for the most part. I might try it with a nice cotton yarn, or perhaps silk-merino next.

Great post from ShhhTFU

2006-05-03T17:21:00.000-04:00

Since I haven't had the time to get back to my essays on the evils of guilt-based parenting, I thought I'd throw something in here while I'm collecting my thouhts and touring New England. This is one from a site new to me: ShhhTFU.

So, I bring you: Rules the Library Should Not Need (but does). Part 1:

Policy can never be too clear. Therefore I propose these rules (and clarifications of existing policy) be added to my library's policies immediately:

When we say that loud talking, noises, and creating a disturbance are not allowed---we mean YOU too! Turn off your cell phone ringer and for gods sake, if you cell phone is so crappy you need to shout into it to hold a conversation...Take it outside!
No one may hit anyone in the library, not even if you're related by blood or marriage.
Quit hiding the books you're reading behind the rows of Library Science reference books. Not only does it piss me off, it reminds me of the fact that most people do not understand or care about what I do. Plus your reading taste sucks. Try reading about something other than poker, buddy.
Please, Please, Please, defecate only in the toilet. And defecation and urination are what toilets are for, so please do not use them for disposing of beer cans, dirty underwear, and the covers you've torn off of books in the attempt to steal them.
Speaking of tearing the covers off books....Quit It!.
Do not try to hide your drug paraphernalia in my library.
Nudity is not permitted anywhere in the library, including the bathrooms. I don't mean the usual, whipping it out to take a piss nudity--that's OK in the bathroom (don't try it anywhere else). I mean quit running around buck naked. People complain, OK?
Garbage cans are located throughout the library for the disposal of your trash. Please do not dispose of your trash on the floor or in the potted plants. The cans marked for recycling are for recycling paper. Your soda can, which should not even be on this floor, should not be disposed of in the paper recycling bins. This means Staff too!
No pulling trains.
Adult terminals (aka porn computers) should have only one person on them at a time. This is a special, private thing....not that I think you'd really have any concept of that, but it really disturbs me to see the entire peanut gallery of stinky men all looking at ...what?...I really don't want to know.
Spending the entire evening looking up sexy pictures of fat chicks on Myspace with your friends and laughing is not going to get you anywhere in life. Just thought you ought to know.
Keep your shoes on!
You! You know who you are--stay out of the Teen Magazines. That's just gross.
Library staff are here to shelve books, answer reference (not personal) questions, and pull the fire alarm if someone sets the building on fire. Quit trying to stare up our dresses, grab our asses, smell our hair, or peer at our lovely librarian bosoms. And don't ask us out--we're working! In the list of guys I'd date, "patron at the library" falls somewhere above "guy with harelip I met on public transit" and just below "man whose parents were obviously blood relations".
I can smell vodka.
I will not help you stalk your ex-wife/ex-husband.
If your child has a tendency to a. put his or her little fingers into electrical sockets, b. climb onto tables and jump off, or c. chew on the carpet it is not the responsibilty of the librarian to prevent the little bugger from a. electrocuting him/herself b. breaking her arm or c. getting some kind of terribly gross and possibly fatal disease (I mean really--we're a public library--how often to you think these carpets get cleaned?).

Guilt and Shame as Parenting Tools

2006-04-24T15:28:00.000-04:00

"Why can't you do anything right?"

"Comb your hair, or all the other kids will make fun of you."

"Who's watching this shit?"

"I can't believe you're going to go through with that goddamn stupid idea!"

"After all I did you for you, this is the way you treat me?"

"If you were a better daughter, you'd visit me every weekend."

"You owe me for giving you life."

Who came up with the idea that making your children feel bad about themselves, even in jest (perhaps ESPECIALLY in jest), was a good tool for teaching them how to be human?

Update: OK, so I've had no real brainstorms with where I want to go with this post other than to say "Don't do it!" But, being the librarian, I decided to help y'all along with some resources for further reading on how to use other tools besides shame to raise your children and how to deal with the aftereffects if you were one of these kids. So, here's a start:

"Never Laugh at Your Children"

The Drama of the Gifted Child and For Your Own Good

Unconditional Parenting

Emotional Blackmail

The Baby Book and The Attachment Parenting Book

Playful Parenting

Attachment Parenting

How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So That Kids Will Talk

Raising Your Spirited Child

Toxic Parents and Toxic People

One more dream

2006-04-24T10:48:00.000-04:00

In which my father has killed someone who was threatening me, and I swear I'm checking the crawl space under the house next time I'm in Monongah.

*shudder*

"But I'm a Cheerleader"

2006-04-18T11:54:00.000-04:00

Why is it that it's often comedies that leave me emotionally stripped? I mean, I sobbed through half of "Meet the Parents." (I have a sensitivity for people who get blamed for things they didn't do. (Gee, I wonder how I developed that tendency?)) Dogma was another comedy that touched me on a deeper level. I'm sure there are other examples that aren't occurring to me now, other than Woody Allen, who I think is just plain sad.

But back to the issue at hand: Kevin and I watched the satire But I'm a Cheerleader on Sunday night -- which, incidentally, is probably the first film on my Netflix list that he's actually watched with me -- and it tore me up and raised a variety of questions. The film is about a perky high school student, a cheerleader who is dating the football star, named Megan. Her parents are concerned that Megan is actually a lesbian, because:

a: She's a vegetarian.
b: She has pictures of women in her locker.
c: She doesn't like to kiss her clueless boyfriend.

So, after an intervention, poor Megan is sent off to be broken of her homo tendencies. I won't go into the details of the movie, because I think everyone should go see it.

But suffice it to say that while a satire, this is not a happy movie in many ways, because like all satires there is a strong element to truth in it. And the fact that thousands of children live this scenario every day -- face being kicked out of the house, are abused, or are mind-fucked by people who couch their hatred in terms of sin and and god -- and that millions of adults could support (both proactively and through their silence) this sort of action, makes me want to hide in bed with the comforter over my head. Or go out and shake these people until their heads pop off. The ending, however, gave me hope that some of these children will make it, that love -- of one's true self as well as of others -- will give them the strength to overcome the obstacles against them.

Sometimes

2006-04-11T20:43:00.000-04:00

I would like to

fold myself up

into myself

until I

disappear.

50 Things You Should Know about Abstinence

2006-04-07T14:01:00.000-04:00

A snarktacular edit of a pro-abstinence pamphlet found in a book by the good folks at the Happyville Library. Folks, if you've never been to Happyville, it's a must-see, even for those not working in Libraryland. Every time I visit, I think "Do I really want to work in a public library?"

[Note: The HL edits are in bold]

50 Things You Should Know About Abstinence

1. Abstinence means not having sex or fun.

2. Being abstinent doesn’t mean you don’t have sexual feelings; it just means you have to repress them. Repression is good for the soul, and for your physical health.

3. Abstinence does mean that you have decided not to act on your sexual feelings, with anyone but your own hand… or toys… or a webcam.

4. You can be popular and cool without having sex; I just wouldn’t recommend it.

5. You don’t need a reason to be abstinent; there just isn’t one.

6. You can say no now even if you’ve had sex before, but your pimp may complain, as well as your spouse.

7. It’s easier to say no if you don’t use drugs or alcohol, but what on earth would you do for fun?

8. You can say no even if you’ve had a baby. Sometimes you don’t even decide to be abstinent after having a child -- it just happens anyway.

9. You can be in love and not have sex -- that’s what marriage is all about.

10. Having sex won’t make your partner love you, but it sure helps, particularly if you’re really generous.

11. Even if your boyfriend or girlfriend wants to have sex, you can still say no. Because plenty of other people will put out, and they’ll just find someone else who will.

12. You can say no even if someone you care about is putting on the pressure. Parents often try to pressure their kids into sex, but stand your ground, kids! STAND. YOUR. GROUND.

13. You can say you care, but that you’re not ready to have sex. Then go shower, shave your legs, put on your naughty lingerie and let him/her know you’re ready now.

14. Both young men and young women choose to ignore abstinence.

15. Young people sometimes think “everybody is doing it.” They’re not. Some of us don’t get lucky half as often as we wish, even though we’re peaking and it is such a waste not to cash in on it!

16. Studies show that a majority of teens have not had sex by the time they are 17, but that depends on what your definition of “is” is.

17. Studies found that most teens who have had sex wished they had waited until their partner could last more than 30 seconds, because what’s the point? Really!

18. You can choose abstinence for any reason -- or for no reason; and then you can change it back again once you realize you’re a sexual being and it’s freaking natural!

19. Choosing to wait has many emotional, social and physical benefits. Do you have any idea how much healthier it is to have an intact hymen? Me either.

20. Abstinence has no medical or physical side effects. Except sexual frustration, which can lead to varieties of kink even I haven’t heard of.

21. Saying no to sex doesn’t cost anything except maybe some mind-blowing orgasms, but who needs those? (Me here doing Arnold Horshack impression: "Ooh, ooh!" and waving my arm wildly.)

22. Abstinence is the only 100% effective method of birth control; except with the Virgin Mary. Or sterilization. Or, if you combine two or more methods of birth control, you darn near approach 100%. Or if you have gay sex. Or oral sex. Or… I could go on. Gee, I guess it’s not the only effective method after all.

23. About one million teenager girls become pregnant every year. They were foolish. Don’t be like them. Kids will ruin your life.

24. Guys who get a girl pregnant will be financially responsible for the baby for the next 18 years. Make sure you get knocked up by someone with money.

25. Choosing abstinence means you won’t have a child before you are ready. Because we would really like you to believe that sex = baby, even though very, very, very few people actually have sex to get pregnant. Really, if it was not meant to be enjoyable, why does it feel good? Huh? Answer me that one, smartypants!

26. Abstinence gives you time to “know” yourself. (Nudge, nudge; wink, wink.)

27. Abstinence gives you time to learn about relationships without the complications (and hassles) of sex. Because sex has nothing to do with relationships and is only there to complicate (and hassle) things. Without it, life is so simple. Just ask Paris Hilton, who knows all about the simple life and abstinence.

28. Choosing abstinence doesn’t mean you’re uncool, just naïve. Even ugly people have lots of sex.

29. Choosing abstinence means you know what’s right for you, and that you haven’t had good sex yet to know what you’re giving up.

30. Choosing abstinence gives you time to have fun, share your feelings and learn about your partner. But even gorgeous, wonderful people are bad in bed, so don’t forget that!

31. You can show your love in creative ways. Like sending your girlfriend (who is involuntarily abstinent) a photo of your car with hearts all over it for Valentine’s Day. That’s very creative. It more than makes up for all the missing orgasms and snuggling. Ahem! Hypothetically speaking, of course.

32. Try showing your feelings by writing love letters or just calling to say you care. Erotica and phone sex are more popular than ever. Oh, and it pays well.

33. Choosing abstinence takes the pressure off deciding what you will and won’t do. Because you really should go into a relationship with a long list of things you will and won’t do, complete with diagrams of kissable and unkissable areas, positions you’ll try, etc. Nothing makes a date go better than formal documentation of what you are willing to do and not do. Everyone should have this.

34. Choosing abstinence may help you feel in control of your mind and body, and if that fails, try Lithium.

35. Choosing not to have sex is your best protection against sexually transmitted diseases and debauchery leading straight to the bowels of HELL!

36. Three million teens get a STuD every year. I was jealous, and then I realized one per year is really pretty poor.

37. Not having sex will lower your risk of HIV infection. So feel free to share needles all you want.

38. One in every four new cases of HIV (the virus that causes AIDS) is a teen. Makes sense to me: teens make up about 25% of what I’d consider the most sexually active decade of the population. Hmmm, the first logical statistic I’ve seen.

39. AIDS is the sixth leading cause of death for people 15-24 years old, unless you have lots of money, like Magic Johnson, who can afford to pay for the meds that will make HIV completely undetectable in your bloodstream and pretty much cure it. Funny how that works, isn’t it?

40. Once you’ve chosen abstinence, hang out with people who respect your decision. Because being cool to them will be much easier than being cool to everyone else.

41. Be clear about wanting to wait. Tell everyone you meet, everyone you see, and anyone who looks your way. The more people who know, the less likely someone will tempt you to give it up.

42. It may be helpful to tell a friend, your parents or a trusted adult about your decision, because it’s not a private issue and we need to know so we can update our Slut Files.

43. Be up front with people you date. Say that you’ve chosen to wait. That will take the pressure off of the first kiss, because there likely won’t be one.

44. Set limits early so you won’t get into tough situations. Chastity belts are still widely available and highly recommended.

45. Staying away from parties where alcohol or drugs are available can help you stick with your decision. We all know how virile guys who drink too much are. *Hee hee hee*

46. It may be easier to say no if you avoid being alone with a boyfriend or girlfriend. ALWAYS bring your mom on your dates! ALWAYS!

47. Group activities, double dates and spending time in public places are all good ways to avoid being alone, if you’re into orgies, and putting on shows, of course.

48. You always have the right to say no. This is true. No snide remarks.

49. “You would if you loved me.” How about, “If you loved me you wouldn’t pressure me.” Or, “It has nothing to do with love, so shut up and get back down there.”

50. Saying no to sex now is saying yes to you and your future SELF. There’s no love like self love!

More haiku

2006-04-05T22:32:00.000-04:00

Welcome, Spring!

Sniffle, drip, sniffle.
Allegies, or just a cold?
Pollen, weather change.

Blast from the past

2006-03-26T20:32:00.000-05:00

I heard this weekend from someone I used to be quite close to, out of the blue but not entirely unwelcome. I've wondered often how this person was doing. However, before I could respond, the mechanism for doing so disappeared. This makes the whole episode feel like a dream. But I know it wasn't: I've got an automated e-mail message from a Web site and the discussion board post I wrote immediately thereafter. I didn't imagine it.

Sigh.

Alan Rickman in a kilt!

2006-03-24T12:33:00.000-05:00

Swoon!

http://www.ragingwomen.org/~julia/kilts/rickman_kilt.jpg

Between Kevin at the wedding and this, I may develop a serious kilt fetish.

Family haiku

2006-03-24T10:37:00.000-05:00

A Night on the Couch

Cat, sleeping above.
Puppy girl, curled next to me.
Big dog, down below.

Pergo and Carpet

You're breaking the rule.
No new task sans one finished.
But this one can slide.

Niecelet

Sweet red-headed girl.
I wish I knew you better.
And you to know me.

Playing catch-up

2006-03-23T21:53:00.001-05:00

It's been a while since I've stopped by, so I'll dedicate this post to what's been happening in the interim.

* I went to WV on the weekend of the 10th. The weather was pretty puny: rained both days. I took Molly with me, as sort of an attempt to see how she'd do without her Dylan present. She walked in the house on Friday evening, and within 2 hours poor Harley (the 'rents' almost 6-months-old boxer pup) was whipped. They played, and played, and played. Molly was often the instigator: biting Harley's paws or trotting in front of him with his favorite toy. On Friday night, Harley sat outside the closed bedroom door and whimpered while Mol did the same thing on the inside. Unfortunately, the rain meant that we couldn't take them outside for a walk, but they kept themselves entertained. I even left them alone, and Molly didn't destroy anything. Meanwhile, Moussie enjoyed the respite from having Harley trying to goad him into playing. Which is good, because I'd say the pooch is at least 20 pounds overweight. He is huge. It's sad.

* I finally finished Nev's baby blanket. Photos will be forthcoming when I download them off the digicam. It looks lovely, and a washing made it nice and soft. (Let's hear it for possum-merino blends!) As fate would have it, she's in the middle of a blanket phase. She got very mad at Molly when she laid down on a comforter in the corner: didn't like that dog sitting on HER blanket.

* My grandmother was very sad that I was leaving after two days. I saw her physically flinch. I came and sobbed in my husband's arms.

* Though I am upset that I am missing my niece's childhood, breaking my grandmother's heart by not being there, and not being present to keep my parents from feeding their dog to death, I would probably shoot myself if I had to live in Monongah and Fairmont again. I think it's gotten more parochial and religiously crazy (there was a protest at Brokeback Mountain) since I was living there.

* The weekend was chock full of uncomfortable questions:

How is married life? (My response: "Not much different than shacking up, except for the extra paperwork.")
When are you going to have a baby? ("Nine months after I get pregnant.")
Did Kevin ever finish his degree?
He's thinking of law school. How many degrees does one person need?
Where are you going to move?

Hell, that was a lot. I'll have to get to the rest of the past two weeks in a separate post. I need to go knit and watch basketball.

Happy International Women's Day!

2006-03-08T15:46:00.000-05:00

Although, quite frankly, I'm not sure that us women here in the United States have much to be happy about these days. Our hard-fought reproductive freedoms writ into law are on the verge of being stripped. Infant mortality rates in some places are on par with places like Bangladesh and Angola. If you're a middle-class woman who works outside of the home you're a bad mother, but if you're a lower-class woman of color you have to work outside the home or else you're a bad mother. There are still states fighting against making spousal rape a crime. The dubious "war on drugs" puts increasing numbers of women in prison despite almost universal agreement in the criminal justice community that the system is rigged. It makes you wonder if the U.S. will ever be a first-world country.

But, trying to stay upbeat here, I thought I'd speak about a concept long discussed in feminist circles: the "click" moment and share mine. For those who are new here, a click moment is essentially some sort of personally experience that represents a sort of epiphany about women's status and roles, where a small incident completely changes the way in which one perceived the world and his or her own role in it.

For me, my feminist click moment was in the 4th grade. A little background: I walked to school, and each year one 4th grader was chosen to be crossing guard for the "Walkers." You got to wear one of those orange reflective strappy things that went across your shoulder and around your waist. I had wanted to be the guard for the Walkers for a couple years at that point, for whatever reason. I just knew they had to pick me to be the guard: There was only one other 4th grade Walker, and he wasn't a person you'd want in charge of other kids. (Not deviant or anything, just a typical 10-year-old boy.)

And so, on the first or second day of school, when my teacher Mrs. Capral asked if there were any Walkers, I raised my hand. She ignored me. She asked again. I kept my hand raised. Finally, she looked at me with a sneer (I still see that sneer in my nightmares, as well as the wart on her nose) and told me "Girls aren't allowed to be guards!" It was almost as if she were glad to remind me of her place. I was devastated. And pissed. Didn't this woman see what a disaster Brian would be as guard? What could he do that I couldn't? I had better grades than him, and I kept an eye on the little ones anyway. What the hell was happening?

I had certainly been exposed to sexism before. My mother and most of her cousins were practically single mothers even though they were all married: In our region, most men's contributions to parenting consisted of sperm and a belt. If they weren't too tired, they might throw a football with their son or work in the garden with their child. But as for the heavy-duty parenting -- cleaning up puke, going to parent-teacher conferences, teaching two toddlers to share -- they were almost uniformly doing diddly. One of my mom's cousins wasn't "allowed" to work, even though she was one of the brightest of the cousins and the income was hugely needed. I hadn't thought much on these issues; it was just the way things were.

But that moment in the fluorescent-lit classroom at Monongah Elementary made me realize that all of my mom's talk about me being able to do anything I wanted to do in life was bullshit. The world wasn't fair to women, and I was going to have to work harder to make my way. Not to mention that I despised my dear teacher after that point and had other conflicts with her through the year, which was hell for a child who was deadly afraid of getting in trouble. However, I've since realized that for her teaching was probably one of the few career options available for the daughter of Italian immigrants, so she was a bit bitter at her fate in life.

That's it for me. Good night, and good luck.

Abortion resources links

2006-03-02T11:01:00.000-05:00

In these days when state after state has taken the approval of the Alito nomination as the go-signal for putting forth long-planned strategies for making abortion illegal again, BitchPhD has put together an informative list of resources and articles relevant to those who refuse to see that happen.

The Station Agent

2006-02-27T16:19:00.000-05:00

Mark this film down as one of those that you really can't say is a "good" film but rather a well-made film, because it's disturbing in so many ways. This thing is filled with heart-wrenching emotion (as well as a lack thereof, which is perhaps even more disconcerting) and pain. You've got a "little person" who is trying to hide away from contact with the world, a mother burying herself in grief for her dead son, a library worker pregnant by a sociopathic New Jersey redneck (they're their own breed). But I enjoyed watching the characters develop through the course of the 96 minutes. Additionally, I was a little let down by the ending, which seemed rather quiet. I actually missed it to some extent, because I had my head down for a second to look at my knitting.

In other news, I'm a bit of a wreck because The-Event-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named happened again on Friday night. This one was seemingly less intense and lengthy, but that may be just my perceptions, as I've dealt with one before and was thus more calm and prepared. Yet, I'm in some ways more concerned because this one followed the previous one by only three months, whereas the usual interval is about five years. Shit.

On the positive side of the balance sheet, I've taken two steps to get my physical health back in order. One: On Friday, I joined the gym at Georgetown. I'm a little pissed at myself that I didn't do it before now, since I could have saved us $140 month by cancelling the membership at Tenley Sport and Health that we haven't used in ages. And, I'd be more likely to use it because I can go right before or after work or at lunchtime (thus simultaneously saving me from the horror of eating at my desk day after day). Two: I signed up for a CSA share that will begin in June and run through October at the Fresh and Local CSA farm. So, I will have fresh veggies, many of which aren't ones we regularly eat, streaming into my kitchen come June.

El fin del fin de semana

2006-02-20T23:05:00.000-05:00

This past weekend was a three-day version, courtesy of the Presidents' Day holiday. We spent Saturday afternoon through this afternoon at my ILs home in Richmond. The visit was particularly special because Kevin's aunt from Seattle was there for a few days. She's a lovely lady: Very gregarious, but not in an obnoxious way. Also, she's not one to put on airs or put down things that aren't of the highest quality or status. (We had an interesting discussion about the culinary snobbery of some people.) I slept late every day and got a lot of knitting done. Additionally, I started an interesting book of essays by Alfie Kohn. So much for the other books currently in the queue. We had some great meals: homemade vegetable soup, potato pancakes, pasta (I even ate the mushrooms).

One problem with visiting Richmond is that it makes us long for a house and a yard even more. I predict more research and a possible trip or two by June.

It's official: I'm brain-dead, and it's almost midnight. Must flee for now.

Happy Birthday Miss Molly!

2006-02-14T10:18:00.000-05:00

The One Springer of the Apocalypse turned one yesterday.

Halfway there

2006-02-09T23:18:00.000-05:00

I reached the halfway point of my Big Bad Baby Blanket tonight. Woot! Except that now I won't be able to knit for a couple days because I sliced my left index finger while washing dishes. Bah!

Catching Up

2006-02-08T16:26:00.000-05:00

OK, so I was doing well with posting on a regular basis for a few days. *Sigh*

Well, at last I wrote in, I was working up the emotional wherewithal to watch "Salvador," after having made it through "The Killing Fields" and "Gallipoli" without slicing my wrists. I watched it last week and was probably more emotionally touched by it than I was the other two. I ended up crying in Kevin's arms after it was all over. (What a man, putting up with my moods!) I think, perhaps, the issue was that the subjects involved seem so reminiscent of what's happening in the Middle East now: Supporing murderous dictators so that we can rape their resources, not caring about the human beings affected by support of a murderous elite, desperate people who support leaders who aren't too big on human rights themselves, diplomats who ignore the atrocities around them while sipping martinis with ex-pats.

The heavy political stuff is over for now. Next up on the Netflix queue:

I need to get cracking on watching some of these: I'm falling behind on the knitting of the baby blanket for Nev. Speaking of whom, look at this cutie:

Still Life

2006-01-29T22:05:00.000-05:00

This is a computer game I bought because DH has been doing a lot of gaming recently, and I thought I needed something to do with my time in between Netflix videos lest my ire boil over and I throw something hard and heavy at the back of his head after night 4 of being unable to have a conversation with him. But who knew . . . I'm actually enjoying the damn thing. It's about an FBI profiler working on a serial murder case in Chicago. It's an interesting story that requires you do everything from solve a puzzle on a hope chest to spray Luminol on a wall to look at it in blacklight. The game definitely has a CSI sort of feel to it. But, my humiliation at actually liking a computer game is complete: I may actually have to buy the one before, which deals with SL's protagonist's grandfather in his exploits as a private investigator in Paris.

In other news, we went to see the Chronicles of Narnia today. Pretty good film that did not stray far from the original story and that was made even better knowing that much of it was filmed in New Zealand. Sigh.

So, I lied

2006-01-27T21:09:00.000-05:00

About what would be coming up next in my booklist. The lucky book turned out to be "Dumbing Us Down" by John Taylor Gatto. The book is subtitled "The Hidden Curriculum of Compulsory Schooling" and is a collection of Gatto's speeches (from when he was accepting awards like New York State Teacher of the Year) and essays on the state of public education in this country. It's one I've been hearing about for a while as I've read about pedagogy and homeschooling, and I finally got it from Lauinger. It was an easy read, with fairly short and easily disgestible chapters, in large print. So, after a few months of struggling with Engdahl, I decided I needed something simple. Here are some links to other Gatto works:

http://www.cantrip.org/gatto.html

http://www.worldtrans.org/whole/schoolteacher.txt

http://4brevard.com/choice/Public_Education.htm

http://www.naturalchild.org/guest/john_gatto.html

Gatto has some interesting things to say about the public school system, and much of it rings true to my ears. I think it provides especially valid insights about the current state of the union and exactly how 60 percent of the U.S. population can actually still think that Saddam Hussein was involved in 9-11 despite all evidence to the contrary. The matter comes down to their inability to think about circumstances in a critical manner and incorporate information other than that fed to them by authority figures or to even think to question the information. (Of course, Hoffer's True Believer has some equally relevant perspective on this issue.)

Teachers tend to automatically dislike Gatto because of his criticisms, his talk of dismantling the public education system, and his devaluing of their work by talking of how it only takes 100 hours of education to learn to read and the basic skills necessary to become a self-learner. I'm not particularly convinced by his focus on women entering the workplace as a major contributor to social breakdown, mainly because it ignores the fact that throughout most of U.S. history, the vast majority of women (particularly poor women and women of color) worked outside the home in some way until the 1950s, whether they were in a diner, a cotton field, a laundry, a schoolhouse, or someone else's kitchen, or were raising other people's children. It also does not speak to the lack of support the United States provides to working families compared with other developed nations. As an online friend put it: "This country is about as family friendly as a room full of swinging knives." His attitudes certainly don't invalidate his arguments, but they certainly provide fodder for critics who consider him to be a right-wing shill for tearing down public education. And more importantly, they draw attention from the truths he is telling. Which is a pity.

Monday Randomness

2006-01-23T21:17:00.000-05:00

OK, so I really need to start writing in here more, now that I've got all the work on the wedding photos completed (they're up at my flickr page) except for ordering reprints of the official ones for family members who would like a hard copy photo. Because I've got a lot of thoughts swirling around here, I'm just going to babble a bit and perhaps next time I can play essayist.

I hit the trifecta (thanks to Der Fuhrer for introducing that phrase into the American lexicon) with depressing political films in the Netflix slot machine. I pulled the arm and got three little nooses in a row: At one point last week, my Netflix selections were "Gallipoli," "The Killing Fields," and "Salvador." This is due, no doubt, to the stream-of-consciousness method in which my list largely has been constructed, just like when I had all of the Holocaust documentaries. I've made it through the first two but will probably wait until tomorrow for the final one. Thank heaven I've got mindless dreck -- a.k.a., "Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason" on hand. A little Colin Firth will perk me right up.
More on that: "The Killing Fields" was probably the hardest movie I've watched since "American History X."
Speaking of evil covert American activities, after more than a month I've finished reading William Engdahl's "A Century of War," which is subtitled "Anglo-American Oil Politics and the New World Order." It's extensively footnoted, and scary as hell. Go read it, now!
Waiting in backup are #6 and #7 in the Sandman series, "Dear Parent" by Magda Gerber, and the newest in Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series, "A Breath of Snow and Ashes."
Speaking of Sandman, I waited for more than a month for three holds that are supposedly all on the shelves to come in from DC Public. One came last week, and it wasn't the next in the series. Thus, I had to go to Fairfax even though technically I'm not eligible for privileges there to get them.
Speaking of DC Public needing some serious physical, organizational, and staffing renovation and rejuvenation, the Mayor has released a draft report for change. This probably comes as DC residents are rightfully screaming about the city spending hundreds of millions of dollars on a new frickin' baseball stadium when the infrastructure is literally crumbling.
I had jury duty today. I was called for a jury pool for a case where the charges were premeditated murder, possession of a firearm, possession of ammunition, and insurance fraud. Luckily for me, 12 people were selected before they got to me. I was completely freaked at the idea of having someone's life in my hands like that.
I'm developing a tension headache sitting here for so long, so I'm going to depart and take some muscle relaxants before it gets worse. Toodles!

And now, because this has been such a depressing post, cute puppy photos!

Ahhh, New England

2006-01-02T21:27:00.000-05:00

So, Kevin and I have returned after our first reconnaissance mission to western Massachusetts, looking into a possible target site for Operation Escape D.C. I'm at my computer trying to keep the cat from licking my water glass (and losing), while throwing Molly's new rubber pork chop every 30 seconds. And her squeaky frog. And her beloved goose who no longer has his honker or stuffing. But anyway, I thought I'd share a few of the things we've learned:

The Motel 6 on I-91 North, just outside of Hartford on the way to Springfield, is across the street from the Hartford Correctional Center. I'd advise against patronizing them, unless you want to wake up with a few empty forties sitting next to your car. Thank heaven we drive a POS; heaven only knows what might have happened to it.
The vast majority of the area is utterly gorgeous, although the closer you are to Springfield, the more you get that run-down, don't-have-no-industry-no-mo' feel to it.
Northampton is pretty much what we thought it would be -- funky and friendly and diverse. The Indian restaurant is quite yummy, there are two yarn shops downtown and three chocolate shops, and they even had a Tibetan restaurant. Amherst is a sweet New England village, with enough bookstores to make my librarian heart sing. Drive five minutes outside of town, and you're in the country. Hadley is home to The Donut Man, which makes apple fritters with actual apples. Yet, the area has malls with Target, Barnes & Noble, Mall-Wart, Trader Joe's, J.C. Penney's, et al.
Howard Johnson's is a decent motel that takes pets. Hello to big white dog Diesel from Molly and Dylan.

This post is interrupted to note that WVU is winning a bowl game 21 to nothing at the end of the first quarter. I fully expect to see the Four Horsemen galloping down Wisconsin Avenue any time now.

The farther you get north of Amherst and Noho, the more remote it gets and it happens quickly. You're in heavily wooded hills, with towns that are little more than a crossroads, and rushing streams alongside the roads.
This area knows its snow. It was snowing like the dickens on New Year's Eve, and within 30 minutes of it starting we saw snow plows and salt/sand trucks. The next morning, all the roads were clear, except for some remote side streets and private driveways.
Smith and Mount Holyoke had the loveliest campuses, although Hampshire gets points for a museum dedicated to children's book art. UConn's law school is made up of stone, gothic buildings, and UMass is somewhat separated from the town proper. Everything is connected by a bus system and bike paths.
I had always thought that Tysons Corner was the real-life Hellmouth, but it has nothing on Delaware. Took us almost 2 hours to go about 30 miles, starting in southern New Jersey and heading to the Maryland border. Shouldn't come as a surprise. After all, this is the state that brought the world Dupont, leaking breast implants, Dow Chemical, MBNA, Joe Biden, and Carl Klockars.
We're not packing our bags yet. Thought it should be fairly easy for me to find work, between the public libraries and the universities, the same can't be said for my better half.

A hoax

2006-01-02T21:20:00.000-05:00

Was the story behind the most recent article I posted. With the holiday break and being away from the 'puter, I haven't read any of the articles. Unfortunately, I have to wonder how far the hoax is from reality.

Hmmm.

File under "You've got to be shitting me"

2005-12-18T19:16:00.000-05:00

First, read this story:

Agents' visit chills UMass Dartmouth senior

This article left a couple primary questions unanswered, mainly those dealing with the library perspective. First, shall we assume this means the feds are monitoring ILL systems? According to the professor for whose class this student requested the book: "Apparently, the Department of Homeland Security is monitoring inter-library loans, because that's what triggered the visit, as I understand it." Is DHS looking at every query on WorldCat as well, and how about the regional consortia like WRLC? And if so, what the hell is that FBI guy talking about "radical militant librarians" bitching about? Of course, considering the lack of communication between the FBI, CIA, et al., which led directly to the 9-11 attacks, I shouldn't be surprised. Guess DHS isn't telling it's friends in the Bureau that the library beat is being covered.

Or, as an alternative idea as to how DHS ended up being alerted, did some Vichy librarian (perhaps one of the folks from SHUSH) report this guy? I'll be first in line at his or her door with the torches and pitchforks. Any other villagers want to join me?

And now, for the idiocy of this book being flagged: Does the federal government STILL get a boner wherever mention of Communism is concerned? Have the Cold Warriors not realized that their bogeyman no longer exists. As somone on DU mentioned, the only Maoists these days are the folks in Nepal who keep fomenting the occasional bloodbath. Are the feds that fucking stupid to think that al Qaeda operatives are all hot and bothered about Mao: The founders of the group were to a one educated in the United States and/or Britain. Perhaps they should add Mill, Malthus, Smith, et al., to the watchlist.

I sure hope to hell this kid got an A: What a firsthand lesson on facism and totalitarianism.

On Radical Militant Librarians

2005-12-18T19:09:00.000-05:00

Truthout's William Pitt wrote a great essay on the threat from us Radical Militant Librarians.

Reading at the moment

2005-11-21T21:51:00.000-05:00

I'm rather upset that I got so little pleasure reading accomplished on the trip to NZ. The main reasons being that there was much more driving than anticipated and thus much less relaxation time at our destinations. Also, I did a fair amount of sleeping. But for those out in LibraryLand, here's what I was up to, literarily ('scuse me for going all Shrub on you) speaking:

Compilations 2, 3, and 4 in the Sandman series.
Anansi Boys, also from Neil Gaiman (autumn turns me into such an uber-Scorpio). Plus, he's just dreamy in that pasty British way.
A Sand County Almanac, from Aldo Leopold, which has been haunting me for months now. This is the one book, other than #2 Sandman, that I actually finished.

I also brought along a stack of magazines: Utne Reader, Ms., American Libraries, the ACRL journal, Ode. I finished one: Utne Reader. While in New Zealand, however, I developed a sad, strange addiction to their gossipy celebrity rags. I read them in every B&B where we stayed, at the grocery store, in the airport.

So, all in all, not too productive on the reading front.

Leaves make me sad

2005-11-21T21:38:00.000-05:00

OK, maybe it's time to go back on the crazy pills, but the other day the fallen leaves on the sidewalks and streets in my neighborhood made me cry. I thought about all that lost energy that is just wasting there on the concrete: Those leaves should be part of a mulch pile, or sitting on someone's lawn to act as a fertilizer. All of that solar energy that was taken in over the spring and summer, and there it is going to naught in the middle of 42nd Street. Just so much lost potential.

Back from Down Under

2005-11-21T21:24:00.000-05:00

Except that Down Under generally refers to Australia and not New Zealand. In summary, beautiful country with wonderful people, but the trip over and back nearly killed me. Someday, eventually, all pics will be posted to my flickr page, and we will have finished the blog, but first I've got to transform all of these high-res files into something small and palatable. And since there are 300 of them, and since I'm still pretty damn braindead, this will not be happening anytime soon.

The new addition

2005-10-23T23:54:00.000-04:00

To our household, manufactured by KitchenAid: one badass mixer, a lovely and generous wedding gift from my parents. We're looking forward to grinding our own hamburger (for less worries about BSE), making sausages, and even turning our own ice cream. You can buy attachments for all of these. But we haven't tried it out yet because of the sad state of wiring in the kitchen. Once again, the outlet that the microwave and stove are on is acting up: Use both together and one or both will simply stop, with no blown fuse and no flipped switch. However, never fear, Murphy the electrician is supposed to turn up on Tuesday. Whether or not he actually does remains to be seen: He's older than God and in semi-retirement.

On a sad food-related note, in talking with Kevin's Aunt Rosemary and Uncle Gary last night, we found out that two local institutions in their area (in Gulf portion of Mississippi) are no more. They haven't just closed: There's literally a mud hole where they once stood. So, a fond farewell to Sullivan's seafood shack and Bozo's, home of the best po-boys in southern Mississippi.

Lipstick on a pig

2005-10-21T21:25:00.000-04:00

Had an thought-provoking conversation with Kevin the other night, in which he pointed out that there's very little difference between Soldier of Fortune magazine and the Wall Street Journal. Both publications, at their heart, are about people who will do anything to earn money and power, with little thought to the effects of their actions on the world in its entirety and in its component parts (e.g., people, natural resources, ecological balance). One publication just has a more upper-crust, "respectable" face on it.

This in turn put me in mind of a comparison I've often heard made between white supremacist groups such as the Council of Conservative Citizens and the National Alliance. (I won't give their Web sites the hits by providing links, so I instead provided links about them from the Southern Poverty Law Center.) The latter is a group notorious for its role in the Oklahoma City bombing, made up of thugs living in the West Virginia mountains (another fine media coup for our state *rolls eyes*). The first is a group made up of clean-cut men in suits, members of the Chamber of Commerce and Little League coaches. Politicans such as George W. Bush or Trent Lott would never think of making a speech at a National Alliance convention or writing an article for one of their publications. However, when you get right down to it, there's little difference between the belief systems of the two groups.

And finally, we have Fred Phelps, who is probably most known for protesting outside Matthew Shepard's funeral with signs that read "God Hates Fags." Recently, he was in the news for protesting at the funeral of a dead soldier, in order to put forth the point of view that his death was God's punishment for our gay-loving culture. (I'm ROFLMAO at that concept.) But Fred just doesn't do funerals: He and his followers at Westboro Baptist Church (the bulk of whom are his family members) have also harassed school productions of The Laramie Project (about Shepard's death and the aftermath), local governments that have passed legislation giving gays civil rights, women's clinics, and pretty much anyone who isn't as whacked out as him and his little group of inbreeds.

Yet, the same bile that Phelps spews isn't very different than what you'd here in many mainstream Christian churches on a given Sunday. I know, I've heard it myself: AIDS is a gift from God to purge the world of the homosexual and the promiscuous, psychology is just a symptom of the secular world's selfish nature, mental illness doesn't really exist and is just a matter of lack of faith, interracial relationships are a sin, it's OK to beat your children if they don't obey you, people on welfare are going to hell. All in pretty white church buildings where the people greeted you with a smile and a cup of coffee.

I'm not sure what my point is, other than that when you look at people like Phelps or Neal Horsley and click your tongue about how horrible they are, don't forget the people with the three-piece suits, the no-white-shoes-after-Labor-Day ensemble, and the strong handshake who are just as malicious. Perhaps they're even more dangerous, because the Phelpses and the Horsleys don't hide who they are behind manners and a smile.

Miscellany

2005-10-13T19:18:00.000-04:00

The library staff resumed its weekly lunchtime knitting circle/crafting klatch today, the first one since I've been working there. There was one other person; I'm not sure who she is and where in the medical center she works. I started work on a hat to match the simple scarf I did out of multicolored (in greens and blues) boucle yarn. It was good to have a peaceful break in the middle of the day, out of the office and away from the 'puter.
Molly has taken to jumping up on the bed and urinating. She's got some serious dominance issues. To deal with it, she's no longer allowed on the bed, and she'll be starting obedience school shortly.
Speaking of the pooches, one travel issue has been dealt with: Molly and Dylan will be staying with their grandparents Jernegan while we're in Kiwi-a-gogo-land. We're hoping that our neighbor Lawrence will be able to come in and check on Cali. However, he hasn't been home for the past couple weeks (and before that, there was some tension because one evening he went off on Kevin's parents about their dogs). So, we may need to hire our regular petsitter Jeanne to come over.
In the meantime, I'm getting antsy because my wedding dress hasn't arrived yet. But I'm told that it's being dyed today and will be delivered by Tuesday. Now, if Kevin can just buy a nice navy jacket . . . .
Have had a heck of a few days: I've fallen down in my own house three times since Sunday.
What the hell? They're gonna make some therapist really happy in a few years.

And they talk about Bill Clinton's penis

2005-10-10T15:45:00.000-04:00

Here's an interesting exemplar of Republican family values: Armchair Subversive.

A recurring nightmare

2005-10-07T17:03:00.000-04:00

That made an appearance last night. This one pops up from time to time.

It involves a group of teenagers who are in this sort of camp for "juvenile delinquents." In their cases, I get the sense that they're in there for something stupid, like disobeying their parents or reporting a teacher who was touching their bathing suit areas. But anyway, they're in this camp house. Two are girls (one blonde, one brunette), and the other is a heavyset black male. The brunette finds these books about the Holocaust that indicated the warden was planning to starve them for their skin. Flash forward a couple months later, and the other two kids aren't believing the other girl about the atrocities that are happening to her.

Later that day, she manages to sneak out, seemingly at night since the keeper is in bed, but it turns out to be day. Immediately outside the door, two other inmates (but well-fed ones) are standing there gardening, and she makes a desperate motion to ask them to be quiet. At this point, I AM HER. I run up the hill toward the road, but just as I get ready to crest the hill, I'm caught. I know that none of the other wardens will believe my claims. That is the worst part: knowing that no one will believe me, and that they won't save me.

This is when I wake up screaming. It actually woke Kevin up (he's a DEEP sleeper), and he rolled over to hold me. He eventually got up to head to the bathroom, take the dogs out, and made me a cup of my favorite ginger peach tea. What a sweetie!

Unauthorized Reproduction Bill

2005-10-04T22:25:00.000-04:00

What. The. Hell.?!

This country is well on its way to becoming the Republic of Gilead. A state legislator in Indiana is drafting a bill that will prohibit unmarried women from giving birth. (Draft of the bill can be found here.) The bill includes criminal penalties for women who break this law and who become pregnant "by means other than sexual intercourse." The law also requires a "gestational certificate." Only married couples who complete the same screening process as that for adopting parents are eligible for said certificate. Also, doctors who provide assisted reproduction therapies (e.g., artificial insemination or in vitro fertilization) will be subject to prosecution.

From an online article:

Republican lawmakers are drafting new legislation that will makemarriage a requirement for motherhood in the state of Indiana,including specific criminal penalties for unmarried women who do become pregnant "by means other than sexual intercourse."

According to a draft of the recommended change in state law, every woman in Indiana seeking to become a mother through assisted reproduction therapy such as in vitro fertilization, sperm donation, and egg donation, must first file for a "petition for parentage" in their local county probate court.

Only women who are married will be considered for the "gestational certificate" that must be presented to any doctor who facilitates the pregnancy. Further, the "gestational certificate" will only be given to married couples that successfully complete the same screening process currently required by law of adoptive parents.

As it the draft of the new law reads now, an intended parent "who knowingly or willingly participates in an artificial reproduction procedure "without court approval," commits unauthorized reproduction, a Class B misdemeanor." The criminal charges will be the same for physicians who commit "unauthorized practice of artificial reproduction."

This must be stopped. Last year, activists got a bill in VA pulled that would have required women to report miscarriages to the police.

Randomosity

2005-10-04T22:21:00.000-04:00

We're down to less than one month before the wedding. I'm going to be a wife!?! Still no decision on whether I'm going to add Kevin's name. I theoretically want to, but the paperwork seems like a huge hassle.
My mom and brother came in this weekend. It was a short visit, but enjoyable. Mom came with Kevin and I to pick up our wedding rings (noting that they suited us because we were such an "interesting, unique couple." Hope she meant that in a good way.) while Chris watched the WVU game. (What a way to end the series with the Hokies. Aaargh.) Went to the dog park, out for Thai, and then strolling in Georgetown. They had to leave pretty early on Sunday because Chris had to be back by 6 to take his daughter for the night. I'm so proud that he's so involved, even though my niece's mother isn't making it easy.
Mom and Chris both adored Molly. And she repaid their love by tearing into Mom's bag and eating a toothbrush, a travel tube of toothpaste, and deodorant.
Have bought four books over the past two days. Two (on Nazi medical experimentation) and the politics of breastfeeeding) came to my attention because the author, a GU clinical faculty member, called with a reference question while I was librarian-on-call. (And then, after I answered it, she proceeded to bitch about her publisher for 10 minutes.) The others were a guidebook to MA (we're heading up for a reconaissance mission this weekend), and an anthology of American short stories.
Many movies coming out that I need to see: Mirrormask and Serenity, the George Clooney flick about the Murrow-McCarthy feud, Nicolas Cage's film about a Russian arms dealer, March of the Penguins, The Constant Gardener, the Corpse Bride. But on the bright side, I finally managed to watch Before Night Falls and get it back to Netflix.
I'm missing my circle sisters. We haven't met in a while, and I'm going through withdrawal.
The differences in professional involvement among various coworkers and institutions, past and present, is startling. Some hadn't been to a conference in 20 years and had never belonged to a professional association, while others assume that at least two people will be presenting at the annual conference.
Finding and receiving treatment for mental illnesses is enough to make you mentally ill(er).

Cooler temps ahead!

2005-09-29T16:47:00.000-04:00

I believe that fall is finally arriving in Washington. Of course, we'll have at least three more relapses where it'll be August all over again. But for the most part, the wheel of the year has turned.

And it can't come a day sooner for me. My legs have been decimated by mosquito bites. I probably have about 30 of them in various stages of healing. (and those are in addition to the 15 on my arms and hands.) Last night, Kevin was squishing so many that we had several little mini-crime scenes, with tiny spots of blood smeared on the wall, the lampshade, tissues, and so forth.

Originally, we had assumed that the increase in bloodsucker activity compared with last summer was caused by us leaving the door open/creating the dog door for Molly. But the talk at the dog park hints that mosquitos are bad all over DC, or at least in Glover Park. I wonder if the cause is the lack of rainfall: a side effect of pollution-induced climate change?

So, Mother Earth, keep those moderate temps coming, and would it be too much to ask for an early frost?

Lightning strikes twice

2005-09-27T21:38:00.000-04:00

Blaaaarggh! Fuck! Shit! Damn!

Our scooter was stolen again. Our sweet little Green Machine, a Honda Metropolitan that gets 120 miles to the gallon, was stolen some time between Sunday night and Monday morning at 9. Someone used bolt cutters to snip the steel Kryptonite cable that had locked it to the street sign. Fuckers.

This is the second time it's been stolen. It was taken Memorial Day weekend: The thieves couldn't break the heavy-duty motorcycle lock that attached it to the signpost, so they just took the front wheel off and left it there. Luckily, our neighbor saw what was happening (she doesn't have a yard or a fence and thus had a direct view) and immediately called the police. And they had stolen another scooter just before ours, and the theft had been noticed and the crime reported. They were stopped in their van at the corner of Wisconsin and Whitehaven, less than a mile away. We got the scooter back at about 3 am, but it required about $300 in repairs because the axle had been lost after the front wheel removed. The kicker: The thieves were two Pepco employees driving an unmarked company van. Apparently their boss was one of the people who helped bring the scooter back into our yard (missing a wheel, it couldn't be driven).

What's affecting me most at the moment is the fact that I supposedly live in a "good" neighborhood. We're used to leaving the backdoor open for the puppy, I regularly walk the pooches wearing my pajamas, and these events occurred not 20 yards away on the other side of the fence from where I sleep. Hell, I didn't experience this much crime when I lived in the middle of MS 13 territory in VA. My sense of security in my surroundings is sorely tested at the moment. And considering that I've been longing to escape the DC metro area anyway for the past few months, I feel even less enamored with the locale.

BG, signing off, desperately in need of a hug and some hot chocolate

Report on Yesterday's Antiwar Protests

2005-09-25T22:47:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was the long-awaited antiwar protest here in DC, sponsored by ANSWER (Act Now to Stop War and End Racism) and United for Peace and Justice. It was one of the first major ones since the U.S. went to war in 2003. Kevin and I went downtown with his uncle John (on the paternal side), who flew in from California for the event. For a while before the march, I wasn't sure if DF wanted to go: He seemed to have taken a stance that "What's the use? The Bushistas are going to do whatever the hell they want." So, I was quite pleased when he started showing signs of interest, and even more so when we found out that John was flying in. Kev has a great deal of respect for his uncle and always spoke very highly of him. John attended and photographed many of the Vietnam antiwar protests. That's him on the left there.

We left for the Tenleytown Metro station around 11. Three showers, canine walks and feedings, caffeine infusions, backpack preparation, et al., took some time. But it turned out not to be an issue because the march itself, which was supposed to begin around 12:30, didn't really get moving until 2. And then, it took hours before everyone was moving: At 4:30 pm, some people were just starting. You could feel the anticipation in the air at the station, where AU students joined families with toddlers holding balloons that said "No war." And, of course, us. When the train stopped, the center cars were already stuffed to the gills, a very good sign. We ended up near the end, where there was more breathing room. We got off at Metro Center, along with a few thousand other people. (Apparently, it was a busy afternoon in Washington. The National Book Festival was being held down toward the capitol, and the IMF/World Bank meetings were also happening. During the march, you could occasionally see these suited up folks who obviously were not part of the march. Wonder what they thought of a couple hundred thousand folks indirectly commenting on their imperialism?)

Walking down 13th Street toward the Mall, the first site that hit me was a huge sign (about 14 feet by 8 feet) created by Working Assets (our new cell phone provider!) and earlier placed in front of anti-tax crusader Grover Norquist's office. It included a photo of the flooding in New Orleans and a play on a Norquist quote: "My goal is to cut government in half in 25 years, to get it down to the size where we can drown it in the bathtub." An incredibly powerful message. Wonder if Norquist considers himself to have blood on his hands?

As always, we were impressed by the diversity of people there. Despite the depictions of the media of protestors being white trust-fund brats, in reality progressive protests are incredibly mixed. One of the first people we saw walking toward the Mall was a very elderly woman using a walker, and we saw many more folks above the age of 65. There were many, many parents with their children (and why not? The U.S. will probably be in Iraq 15 years from now when these children will be of age to join (or be conscripted into) the military). Standing near the stage where the speakers were talking, I heard one presenter (I never did hear her affiliation) talking about her 8-month-old child and how many parents cuddle together during thunderstorms to reassure their children. She then asked the audience to consider an Iraqi parent trying to console a child when the thunderous noise is not thunder, but the rain of bombs on their neighborhood. For the first of many occasions yesterday, tears came to my eyes. But here are just a few of the beautiful people (and "tattooed, pierced hippies" *sarcasm*) we saw:

But I soon got a pleasant surprise when I saw my former coworker Irene in the crowd. I wasn't surprised to see her there, but it was nice to catch up with her. In her mid-50s, she started work on her master's in library science (at Florida State, via distance ed) this semester. She caught me up on the news from NVCC. And interestingly, she wasn't the only person from the college I saw. At one point in front of us on the actual march, I saw a man who looked quite familiar. Eventually I remembered that he was an English professor whose classes I had taught in the library. Also, two of my GU coworkers were in the crowd with their spouses/partners. Local libraries definitely had a presence.

About 30 minutes in, John split up with Kevin and I, to go take some photos. We had earlier swapped cell phone numbers so that we could reach one another, so it wasn't a big deal. We didn't see him again until we reached the end of the march. Here are some early photos of the three of us. (Isn't Kevin looking handsome?)

While Kevin and I were standing around waiting for things to begin, several sights struck our notice. We were at what seemed to be the end of the march, but the crowds were thick. One group joining at that point created a procession of flag-draped "coffins" made out of cardboard. There were probably 75 of them; I was horrified to realize that each probably represented 25 dead soldiers and 200 injured ones. And to think that a procession for the Iraqi civilian dead: Each coffin would have represented at least 1,000 people. (Of course, you'd never know that by partaking in the U.S. media.)

Another issue of note: The number of police cars that went driving THROUGH the crowds: at least five of them over the course of an hour. They weren't going fast and didn't have their sirens, so it didn't seem they were going anywhere in a hurry. And in any case, there were other streets they could use as opposed to ones that were literally filled with people, including children, the elderly, and people in motorized wheelchairs and scooters. The only reason I could think of that they might be driving through the crowd was intimidation, pure and simple. Fuckers.

And there was another moving group display; I got the feeling they were a religious congregation from the Midwest, perhaps Michigan. Their numbers included the elderly as well as teenagers. They had printed out, each on an 8-1/2 by 11 sheet, the photo, name, and hometown of every soldier killed in Iraq. The page was slipped into a plastic sheet cover and attached to a rope. The rope probably stretched more than 4 or 5 blocks along Constitution. Stunning, and it gave such a horrific picture of the death toll for the American military. Each one of those individuals was someone's daughter, son, parent, nephew, coworker.

Here are some other interesting photos and groups:

These are the Montana Women for Peace. Fabulous display, and what dedication to haul their cookies across the country for this march. I wasn't sure if I'd go, and I live just a few Metro stops away.

Some favorite signs. The first shows the sign and the artist, who obviously put a great deal of time and thought into it. The imagery is incredible. The "crap" sign made us laugh, and was all too true. And the third: Great sticker, with some eye-grabbing placement. (Gonna have to talk to Kevin about photographing other women's breasts.) The giant pink peace sign was with the Code Pink contingent.

These photos are of Camp Casey, which was moved from Crawford, Texas, to the Mall. Emotion was flowing through the entire area: the photos of dead soldiers, the artifacts for each one, and the boots and crosses representing the dead.

Walking away from Camp Casey, we saw the police stretched up Constitution toward the capitol. Kevin noticed, while working on a cancer stick, that they all had gas masks with them. Police states are very scary things. The other photo was taken just before that of the police officer: of a young man (one of those hippy youths) with a peace flag. I thought it a very iconic image. Apparently, others did too: A similar photo appeared in todays Post.

Here's the White House. By the time we got to the back side, we found that the religious group with the rope of dead casualties had placed it on the fence outside the White House wrought-iron fence. (Security in DC, sigh.) The external fence was surrounded by Secret Service people in riot gear, including one carrying a tear gas launcher. (See photo.) While looking at the manse, a clean-cut fellow in an oxford cloth shirt with a bullhorn walked up next to me and started berating the police troops there for protecting a war criminal. As Kevin and I walked past him, Kev notice the sandwich-board he was wearing: "Oswald, where are you when we need you?" Apparently, dude missed the whole Jack Ruby thing. Or, he was a COINTELPRO-type infiltrator there to incite the police to attack. I wouldn't doubt it; he looked very Republican.

If he was a true protestor, I'm sure that I'm now on the FBI watch list and the no-fly list because I was standing next to him, and in Bush's America, that's enough to get you labeled as a dangerous individual. How many Muslims were interrogated because they once attended services at the same mosque as a 9/11-hijacker? (Funny how that doesn't work with Christian terrorists? Did Eric Rudolph's fellow churchgoers get hauled into a cell for a couple weeks without a lawyer or the opportunity to tell their family where they were?)

After the White House, on sort of the "back nine" of the march, we stopped for a rest (and, alas, for Kevin to smoke a cigarette). Behind us were a group of women with t-shirts reading "West Virginians for Peace." Like any good Mountaineer, I had to stop and chat. They were actually from the Eastern Panhandle, but they mentioned that they had spoken to several folks from Fairmont and Morgantown. I was proud to hear that North Central WV was representing. But anyway, here's me and the state flag:

The next shot was taken looking down toward the capitol (think it was Pennsylvania). You can see that the crowd is wall-to-wall (sidewalk-to-sidewalk?!) the entire way. Woot!

Near the end of the march, at Freedom Plaza, we ran into the Breasts Not Bombs group. Yes, those are real, bare breasts. (As an aside, kudos to the mom who was practicing extended breastfeeding while marching!)

Ironically, they were right around the corner from a wizened woman street preacher hollering about salvation. (Oh, along the route we noticed two counterprotests. One was made up of about 10 people and included signs like "God Bless America, to hell with the rest of them." The other involved a group of good "Christian" folks who apparently think that advocating for peace is a sin.)

Around this time, we got in touch with John, who had already finished the march. Apparently, we had several more blocks to go. We ended up skipping them and met up with John at 14th and Constitution, and then walked back to Capital City Brewing (where Kevin and I went out to eat after the protest where we met, so it was sort of a nostalgic meal) for beer and sandwiches, and a lot of talk about the day, protests of the 1960s, the state of the nation, and the possible impact of our actions.

My first sweater

2005-09-18T18:55:00.000-04:00

Last week, after more than a year of knitting, I finished my first major project. In the interim, I've done a few scarves, mainly making up the patterns as I went. Nothing real attractive, and nothing too difficult. But finishing the sweater gives me a major sense of accomplishment.

Being Poor

2005-09-15T12:34:00.000-04:00

This needs to be screamed loud, from the Chicago Tribune:

By John Scalzi

Being poor is knowing exactly how much everything costs.

Being poor is getting angry at your kids for asking for all the crap they see on TV.

Being poor is having to keep buying $800 cars because they're what you can afford, and then having the cars break down on you, because there's not an $800 car in America that's worth a damn.

Being poor is hoping the toothache goes away.

Being poor is knowing your kid goes to friends' houses but never has friends over to yours.

Being poor is knowing you're being judged.

Being poor is going to the restroom before you get in the school lunch line so your friends will be ahead of you and won't hear you say "I get free lunch" when you get to the cashier.

Being poor is living next to the freeway.

Being poor is wondering whether your well-off sibling is lying when he says he doesn't mind when you ask for help.

Being poor is off-brand toys.

Being poor is a heater in only one room of the house.

Being poor is hoping your kids don't have a growth spurt.

Being poor is stealing meat from the store, frying it up before your mom gets home and then telling her she doesn't have to make dinner tonight because you're not hungry anyway.

Being poor is not enough space for everyone who lives with you.

Being poor is feeling the glued soles tear off your supermarket shoes when you run around the playground.

Being poor is your kid's school being the one with the 15-year-old textbooks and no air conditioning.

Being poor is thinking $8 an hour is a really good deal.

Being poor is relying on people who don't give a damn about you.

Being poor is finding the letter your mom wrote to your dad begging him for the child support.

Being poor is a bathtub you have to empty into the toilet.

Being poor is stopping the car to take a lamp from a stranger's trash.

Being poor is making lunch for your kid when a cockroach skitters over the bread, and you looking over to see whether your kid saw.

Being poor is believing a GED actually makes a difference.

Being poor is people angry at you just for walking around in the mall.

Being poor is not taking the job because you can't find someone you trust to watch your kids.

Being poor is the police busting into the apartment right next to yours.

Being poor is not talking to that girl because she'll probably just laugh at your clothes.

Being poor is hoping you'll be invited for dinner.

Being poor is a sidewalk with lots of brown glass on it.

Being poor is people thinking they know something about you by the way you talk.

Being poor is needing that 35-cent raise.

Being poor is your kid's teacher assuming you don't have any books in your home.

Being poor is $6 short on the utility bill and no way to close the gap.

Being poor is crying when you drop the mac and cheese on the floor.

Being poor is knowing you work as hard as anyone, anywhere.

Being poor is people surprised to discover you're not actually stupid.

Being poor is people surprised to discover you're not actually lazy.

Being poor is never buying anything someone else hasn't bought first.

Being poor is picking the 10-cent ramen noodles instead of the 12-cent ramen noodles because that's two extra packages for every dollar.

Being poor is getting tired of people wanting you to be grateful.

Being poor is a box of crayons and a $1 coloring book from a community center Santa.

Being poor is checking the coin return slot of every soda machine you go by.

Being poor is deciding that it's all right to base a relationship on shelter.

Being poor is hoping the register lady will spot you the dime.

Being poor is feeling helpless when your children make the same mistakes you did and won't listen to you beg them against doing so.

Being poor is a cough that doesn't go away.

Being poor is making sure you don't spill on the couch, just in case you have to give it back before the lease is up.

Being poor is a $200 paycheck advance from a company that takes $250 when the paycheck comes in.

Being poor is four years of night classes for an associate of arts degree.

Being poor is a lumpy futon bed.

Being poor is knowing where the shelter is.

Being poor is people who have never been poor wondering why you choose to be so.

Being poor is knowing how hard it is to stop being poor.

Being poor is seeing how few options you have.

Being poor is running in place.

Being poor is people wondering why you didn't leave.

Why is it . . .

2005-09-12T19:58:00.000-04:00

. . . That on the dial for almost any electric fan, you go from Off to High and THEN to Medium and Low? Doesn't it make more sense to work your way from Off to Low?

. . . That no one ever calls you for help or stops by to ask a long, detailed question until just after you think to yourself "I've got to go to the bathroom."

This photo speaks for itself

2005-09-11T21:02:00.000-04:00

But I'll say just a little: It was taken in Portland, Oregon, at a demonstration in support of Cindy Sheehan.

Archaeology, Disaster, and Me

2005-09-11T17:43:00.000-04:00

Whenever I'm curled up in bed with the Man, the Cat, and occasionally one of the Dogs, I often imagine the remains of residents of the ancient city of Pompeii, who were trapped in the ash and lava flow of Mount Vesuvius's eruption in 79 CE. Their last moments were almost perfectly preserved: a mother shielding an infant with her body, a family huddled together, an arm raised as if to ward off a blow. This leads me to wonder what an archaologist 500 or 1,000 years from now would think of us if a sudden disaster were to freeze us in time. We live in DC for heaven's sake: Who knows what could happen, especially at the rate the current government is pissing off the rest of the world. How would these scientists interpret what we'd leave behind?

One adult male and one adult female, probably a family unit. They are curled up in a resting position known in the late 20th and early 21st centuries as "spooning." Both are lying on their right sides. The female's left arm stretches over the male, and her fingers are clasped with those of the male's left arm. In the small of the female's back is a small mammal, a cat judging by the bone structure of the skull. In front of the male's legs is a larger mammal, a dog. Another dog, about twice the size of the other, lies about two feet away. We can assume that the group was asleep when the nuclear ash began raining down by their restive state.

For the love of Maude

2005-09-08T20:47:00.000-04:00

If it can't go DOWN the sink (e.g., rubber bands, leaves, or the ring around the milk jug lid), don't put it IN the sink.

Jeesh!

Thursday Miscellany

2005-09-08T12:05:00.000-04:00

* After several days of panic that I'd lost the USB key drive that holds most of my important documents, including my resume, PDFs of publications I've done, and my bookmarks from the old work computer, I found it on the floor of my car under the passenger's seat. My purse must have upended and then I missed it in the cleanup. What good is making technological products small if you're never able to find them?

Case in point: the new iPod Nano

* My puppy is a badass. Kevin and I have been taking her to the unfenced dog park to get her used to being off leash without running away and to burn some of that neverending supply of energy. The other night there were probably 12 dogs, and most were bigger than her. She ran with the pack, played as hard as any of them, took her tumbles and just rolled back up. Boxers, sheperds, pointers: She wasn't scared of any of them. Kevin has taken to calling her the Springer of War.

* Finished my first sweater, which I started last June (moving and the end of grad school got in the way of me working on it). Hooray!

* Is DC expecting a particularly nasty winter and no one has bothered telling me? It seems that someone is worried about falling trees. (Not an unknown problem in our neighborhood: We see a tree go down at least once every couple months.) For the past two mornings, crews have been busy trimming trees and sending the amputated parts through a wood chipper. Or, did Glover Park just make it to the top of the DC government's to-do list?

Bright shining human beings

2005-09-05T22:36:00.000-04:00

To contrast against the prior post, let me introduce you to Deamonte Love:

In the chaos that was Causeway Boulevard, this group of refugees stood out: a 6-year-old boy walking down the road, holding a 5-month-old, surrounded by five toddlers who followed him around as if he were their leader.

They were holding hands. Three of the children were about 2 years old, and one was wearing only diapers. A 3-year-old girl, who wore colorful barrettes on the ends of her braids, had her 14-month-old brother in tow. The 6-year-old spoke for all of them, and he told rescuers his name was Deamonte Love.

And Jabbar Gibson:

Several school buses were stolen from Orleans Parish, loaded with storm victims and driven out of New Orleans toward Houston in desperate acts to leave the ravaged city, according to reports.

Three school buses were stopped Thursday night in Port Allen, La., just west of Baton Rouge after they were stolen, according to WBRZ-TV in Baton Rouge. The evacuees were placed on other buses and transferred to shelters in Texas.

An 18-year-old also decided to take matters into his own hands and stole an abandoned city school bus and drove storm victims to Texas, according to a CNN report.

The teen driver, Jabbar Gibson, 18, said he had never driven a bus before but wanted to save people.

"If it wasn't for him, we'd still be in New Orleans on the Gulf," bus passenger Randy Nathan said. "He got the bus for us."

Outrage for the Day

2005-09-05T22:32:00.000-04:00

Courtesy of Barbara Bush:

The former First Lady's remarks were aired this evening on National Public Radio's "Marketplace" program.

She was part of a group in Houston today at the Astrodome that included her husband and former President Bill Clinton, who were chosen by her son, the current president, to head fundraising efforts for the recovery. Sen. Hilary Clinton and Sen. Barack Obama were also present.

In a segment at the top of the show on the surge of evacuees to the Texas city, Barbara Bush said: "Almost everyone I’ve talked to says we're going to move to Houston."

Then she added: "What I’m hearing which is sort of scary is they all want to stay in Texas. Everyone is so overwhelmed by the hospitality."

And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this--this (she chuckles slightly) is working very well for them."

What. A. Bourgie. Fuckwit.

But then again, this is the same woman who said, in reference to American servicepeople killed in Iraq:

"Why should we hear about body bags and deaths? It's not relevant. So why should I waste my beautiful mind on something like that?"

So, when do we storm the Bastille?

A little about me

2005-09-03T16:50:00.000-04:00

Meet me:

The basics: I'm 32; originally from West Virginia; live in Washington, DC, with my fiancee, two dogs, and one cat; work as an instructional librarian at a high-prestige university. We're hoping to move away from this area in a year or so -- hopefully to Western Massachusetts, if it's to our liking. We're getting married November 1 in Canterbury, New Zealand. I'm the eldest of two children (I have a brother about 2 years younger). My mom is a customer service queen who retired from the power company a few years ago. My dad is a correctional officer at a facility for juveniles and a veteran of the Marines and the Army.

In my spare time (which I now have since I'm not working full time and going to school half time), I read a lot, knit, walk in the park across the street with my pooches, and blaze through my Netflix list.

Some photos of my little family. Dylan is the golden retriever, Cali the cat, Molly the English springer spaniel. The photo of Kevin and Molly was taken on the day she came home with us, which was also the day he proposed.

Photos of parents, sibling, niecelet, et al., will come eventually.

Introduction

2005-09-01T16:06:00.000-04:00

Well, here we are with my introductory post.

Why, you might ask, have I done this. There are several different issues:

* I've got so many thoughts running around inside my head and little opportunity to get them out in a timely manner.

* As a librarian, it's good professional experience: Many libraries are using this technology as a way to get information out to users, advocates, etc.

* With a wedding and a trip to the far side of the globe, I thought this might be a good way of making photos available to family members and friends.

* A dream. One night about a month ago, I had a dream that I had started a blog. I woke up with the word "blogspot" on my tongue. The feeling of the dream was so strong, that I felt I should sit up and pay attention.

So, here we are. Welcome.