Standing in the Doorway

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I am troubled by the position many conservatives take on Women Issues.  Several reasons exist for this besides being liberal in my thinking.  I'm have been looking for work for almost a year now and feeling invisible to those hiring.  It is hard to be 60 and not think my age has something to do with it.

The more pressing reason is that I feel as though I have been fighting for equality and autonomy my whole life. I remember standing in the doorway of my grandmother's kitchen watching her, my mother and my aunt prepare, serve and clean up the holiday meals while the men and boys sat watching television before and after the meal.  That doorway became sympolic as I grew.  Filling caught by the traditional roles of the women in my family and yet drawn to the activities and interests of the men.  I loved sports.  I loved mechanical things. I loved science and math.  The world of women seemed filled with more don'ts than the men's. 

So the people who attack a woman's right to choose what to do with her own body touch a sore spot that has existed for a very long time.  That little girl in the doorway watches.

Liberal 90

Two weeks ago in my therapy group, I mentioned how upset I was with Ryan's stance on women issues as well as the general arch-conservative positions.  After venting, I realized that I had been upset over the way women seem to be the target of the tea party since Spring.

I am a liberal on just about everything except parenting.  I believe in pro-choice and think men should just shut up about what a woman can do with her body. But then I think everyone should just shut up about what a woman can do to her body.  If you don't want to have an abortion, then don't have one.  If you don't believe in birth control, don't use it.  Leave the rest of us alone. 

Abortion is legal in this country and the rules/laws that make it increasingly harder to obtain one holds women hostage to their bodies. I don't believe women choose to have an abortion lightly and the government should not make a difficult situation even more difficult. And I don't even want to start on my feelings about the attack on Planned Parenthood.

Women issues aside, I'm also liberal about religion, gay rights, education, health care, immigration, welfare and just about any other social program.  One reason I have such trouble with the very conservative agenda is that I find them so exclusive in their world view while I believe that this country was founded on ideas of inclusiveness. 

HBO's "Newsroom" ended its season with a list of what the tea party stands for and characterized the party as the American Taliban.  It is worth a watch.

Conservative Tenth

Ten percent.  That is how much of me is conservative.  And that ten percent revolves around one topic - child rearing.  I believe children should all have set bedtimes, even teenagers.  I believe children should eat what is prepared for them at meal time. I believe no child under the age of 18 should have a television or computer in her own room. I believe in chores for every child. I believe that starting children in organized activities at 3 or 4 is for the parent's enjoyment and shortens the time that children will have free unscheduled time in their lives.  I don't believe in dropping children off at a mall or the movies. And I believe that if I pay for tickets to anything, my children will sit with me.  I don't believe in running to the store at the last minute for something someone might need for a homework assignment that he decided to do at the last minute. 

As I type this, I'm well aware that the world is changing so fast and the above paragraph dates me.  Children now have smart phones and smart tablets and have them at a younger and younger age. I still believe that many of the problems kids can face with technology and/or the world will be lessen if things are done in the presence of parents.

And that is about all that is conservative in me.

Trying Again

I took a five month vacation from blogging.  Tired of job hunting and news of anti-women laws led to a malaise.  I wasn't sure I could write without my frustration leaching into my words.  So I stopped.  Summer was hard and while I never fell into the abyss of depression, it took most of my energies to stay on the level. 

Now I'm trying again.  I hope to be as brave as my favorite bloggers (cjane leads the list) and write about what truly matters to me.  There is a need for an honest approach to the female narrative in all of its myriad and complex ways.  What I write may not match your experience (presuming I have readers) but it will be truly reflective of my experience.

Something different

Space, Place and Soul



Something in this landscape calls out to me.

The prairies my vagabond parents

Ceased to call home after they wed,

But the weekend visits, holiday celebrations and

And long indolent summer vacations

Turned this red dirt into the

North Star of my existence.

Something in this landscape calls out to me.

The clouds shadowing the rolling wheat fields

Turning from a hint of green to the waving gold.

The scents of the seasons, each distinct to its

Own time and memory.

Something in this landscape calls out to me.

As I leave the interstate and turn onto the shoulderless

Two lane highway with its arterial dirt roads and

Tractors left in the middle of the fields and

Cattle lazily welcoming me with their stares,

I hear the deep interior response as my soul

Answers, "I'm home! I'm home!"

Homa

Firing the Canon

My mother graduated from high school in 1949.  I finished in 1969 and my three children graduated in 1996, 1998 and 2001.  All of us read Dickens' Great Expectation as well as Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, Julius Caesar, Macbeth, and Hamlet.  I lucked out of the Scarlet Letter when my eleventh grade English teacher assigned Wouk's The Caine Mutiny. As much as I love to read and write, I hated my English classes.

 For all of us the math courses came in the same order as did the science classes.

Now I understand that there is something to be said for all of us to share in similar educational experiences.  It connects the generations and provides a common language.  That reasoning is sadly outdated and irrelevant.  So much has changed and the educational canon needs updating.

Admittedly I am not a fan of Dickens but the rest of my family enjoyed reading the ninth grade assigned novel.  I just think that there have been new books written since his day that would appeal to the modern student.  Allow students to choose what they would like to read and introduce them to what is happening now.  Maybe they will be moved to read the "classics" in order to understand some of the literary references. 

Let students work through the science and math courses in the manner that suits them.  Allow them to pace themselves and own their learning.  Offer more courses that would meet the state requirements.  If students take a class and don't have the necessary background, let them take the time to acquire it, even if their learning path resembles a wandering path. 

The factory model of education no longer serves its population and ideas from the homeschooling, private and charter school sectors need to be incorporated into public education.  The time for change is now.

Hunger Games

As a rule, I do not read Young Adult literature.  Often I find it shallow so it was with some hesitation that I began the Hunger Games series.  And I loved it. A great story well written and so I proceeded to finish all three books in quick order.

Friday my younger daughter and I saw the movie.  It was everything the pre-release hype promised. The cast was perfect.  The pacing felt right.  But I do have a few complaints.  I know that there are always changes when a book goes to the big screen.  Sometimes they work and sometimes they don't.  In the Hunger Games film, the small changes were unnecessary.  For example, the way Katniss received her mockingjay pin is better in the book, ties the three books together and would have taken the same amount of time in the movie as the change took.  Also the cornucopia differs from the book.  Again a small change that wasn't needed.  The audience didn't need the visual change to remember that the setting was in the future.  And why was Peeta's last injury omitted?  Again it is something that ties Katniss and Peeta together in the series.

Still my recommendation is to read the books and see the movie.  They both are way better than the Twilight series.

Back Again

Returning from helping my mom recover from surgery, I was sure I would have a job offer and be working.  When that didn't happen, I went into a stall.  All I could think about were finding a job and not slipping into a depression.  As some of you know, I suffer from major depression disorder and worry that I'll slide back down into that gray abyss.  So between job-hunting and taking my mental temperature, nothing much was done.

Last week some energy and hope returned and I started writing again.  In fact, I plan on posting more than once a week. 

Not too bad

Out of all the months, February is my least favorite. Valentine's Day isn't the reason because I like celebrating it. November through January usually swallowed my money with birthdays and Christmas so by February I was broke and tired. It also seemed that the really cold icy weather happened early in February.
This year hasn't been too bad. No cold weather helped. But I'm finding that there is still a part of the month that irritates me and it is leap day. I think it is a prime example of how men have messed up the world. A woman would have put the extra day in a warmer month. June 31st sounds nice, doesn't it?

"That was a great spit!"

I hope all the grandparents in the world love their grandchildren as much as I love my granddaughter. The world needs this kind of love. Not only do I love little K, I am fascinated by her and thoroughly enjoy seeing the world through her eyes. She is almost 4 and still very innocent.

There are so many stories I could share but I'm going to leave you with just one. Saturday we had a sleepover at my home and spent the afternoon and evening with the usual variety of activities. Finally it was bedtime and I watched as she brushed her teeth. She stopped halfway to show me the correct way to brush. Then she spit. She looked up at me with a big smile on her face and said, "that was a great spit!" And it was.

Happy Valentine's Day

As someone who has been single for a very long time, I refuse to allow this day to just belong to pairs.  I love the people in my life.  I love myself. I urge all women to find a way to celebrate this day of love.  Here are my suggestions:
l. Go get a massage or a pedicure or a manicure;
2.Buy a new book (my personal favorite);
3.Go to a movie;
4.Buy yourself a new item of clothing; or
5. Buy yourself flowers and candy.

Or do something for a friend or family member who is also alone on this day. Celebrate your friendship.  Love doesn't belong to Twos!

Now I'm off to treat myself.

Protests

I firmly believe in our American right to support or protest whatever we wish.  I refuse to buy pizza from Domino's because they fund anti-abortion groups.  The only time I shop at Walmart is when I am in Alva, Oklahoma because I really don't like its treatment of its female employees.  When my kids were growing up, I protested Shania Twayne's song "Any Man of Mine" on the grounds of reverse sexism. 

I also don't have a problem trying to enlist others to your position.  In this new world of social media, this tactic runs the risk of being abusive.  One of my relatives frequently posts about the lack of prayer in school, groups trying to get rid of "In God We Trust" references on our money and government buildings.  And these posts usually end with something like "if you are a Christian, repost."  Another friend who is Catholic frequently posts anti-abortion, anti-gay marriage messages and ends with a message similar to my relative.  Another friend is currently on a rampage against Mitt Romney who is not "Christian" while also bashing Obama for not being "American."

For the most part, I ignore these posts.  Facebook and Twitter are not the best places to engage in meaningful dialogue about our differences.  Plus these are just four friends.  I feel compelled, however, to take a position after last week's Susan G. Komen/Planned Parenthood uproar.  I am a liberal Christian.  I voted for Obama because there was no way I would vote for Sarah Palin.  I would love the opportunity to vote for a woman but refuse to vote for one that is not qualified.  I support a woman's right to choose.  I have had three children whom I cherish.  I just don't think anyone should be forced to be pregnant against their will.  If you don't want to have an abortion, don't.  If you don't want others to have one, maybe your efforts should be go to better birth control, better sex education and harsher penalties for men who sexually abuse women.  I don't have a problem with "God" being on our money or our government buildings as long as everyone continues to enjoy the right to practice believing in whatever. I think adultery is a bigger threat to the institution of marriage than gay marriages.  Really, shouldn't we support people being committed to one another no matter what. Prayer still exists in schools.  I just don't think state employees (teachers) should be involved in leading it.  I don't think Muslim students, Hindu students Wiccan students, atheist students should be forced to listen to a Christian prayer just as I don't Christian students to be led in prayer 5 times a day by their Muslim teacher.

I think people would be better served by seeking an way to increase love and acceptance in the world instead of trying to draw tiny boxes that separate people.   

Food and Chefs

About a year ago, I visited my mother and we took my son and his girlfriend out to eat.  A new restaurant had opened in my mother's hometown and she was eager to try it out.  My son ordered lamb.  Lamb!  His order stunned me because (a) I have never eaten lamb; (2) I have never fed anyone, much less any of my children lamb [I never bought the gross baby food lamb meat sticks because I didn't want to risk my children liking lamb; and (3) I did not know my son liked lamb.

Now to say I have "food issues" stands as a grand understatement.  Much to my mother's dismay, I have only become more rigid as I have aged.  Now that I'm sixty, I'm no longer interested in "trying" new foods.  If I haven't eaten something by now, it is because I don't want it. And growing up, my son was the pickiest eater of my three kids.  If it hadn't been for pizza, peanut butter and cheese, he wouldn't have survived.  So for him to order lamb was a big deal.

But my son now lives in a world centered around food.  Andy is a pastry chef and is in love with Monica, another chef.  They live, work and breath food all the time.  My son's current job (go Uchiko Austin) allows him to play with in the world of molecular gastronomy, creating desserts with descriptions like "lemon sorbet honey-miso cream gingerbread soil fennel fronds mint crispy yellow beets."  About as far away from hot fudge lava cake with vanilla ice cream as one can get.  Savory desserts is the trend in fine dining and my son embraces this movement. 

His girlfriend, Monica, works on the savory side for Chef Bull in his new restaurants in Austin.  Monica and Andy are amazing people who love what they do.  They both have worked for some of the premier chefs in Texas and are very knowledgeable. They try new foods, new techniques, new restaurants much like I try a new author or a new TV show. 

In honor of my son's birthday, let me illustrate how their worlds are so very different from mine.  While they still lived in Dallas, I took them to eat at Rise, a restaurant specializing in souffles.  We had wine with our appetizers and then ordered three savory souffles (so they could try different flavors) and also placed our order for three dessert souffles (again so they could share.  I'm not really into sharing food.) We talked about the decor and the general location of the restaurant when all of a sudden, my son asked, "I wonder what they do with the egg yolks?"

Now egg yolks never cross my mind unless I'm frying an egg and want to make sure the yolk is not runny.  I know souffles are tricky to make and one must be careful that they don't "fall" but I had no idea what role egg yolks play in souffles.

Andy and Monica, however, proceeded to have quite a spirited discussion about egg yolks.  Did the restaurant buy whole eggs and throw the yolks out? Or did they just buy egg whites? If they bought whole eggs, what else could they do with the yolks?  By this time I had figured out that our souffles were made with just the egg whites which is why Andy and Monica were so interested in the yolks. 

Now most of my dinner conversations stay within the sphere of my table and with my dining companions.  Again it is different eating with chefs.  When the waiter came by, Andy asked him what the restaurant did with egg yolks.  This young man looked completely baffled by the question.  The next thing I knew, the chef/owner of the restaurant stood by our table explaining that he bought whole eggs and used the yolks in the breads and some of the souffles.  They then discussed chef's jackets and menu design.  By the end of the discussion, the three of them were pleased and I had finished my chocolate souffle without having to share.  Win all around!

Happy Birthday, Son!

Tools

I love tools.  If given a choice between a hardware store and a dress shop, I choose the hardware store every time.  I'm a sucker for drill bit sets and love the new cordless power tools.  Someday I'm going to own my own nail gun.

This love of tools came early.  My dad could fix and build just about anything around the house. In fact, he built our first TV while he was in college.  He  also excelled at drafting my brothers and me as his helpers. ( I understand grunts because of this.)  He believed that if something broke, a person should at least try to fix it before calling a repairman.

This philosophy stood me in good stead when I became a single parent and responsible for the upkeep of our home.  I followed his advice and that of a Reader's Digest book on home repair and tackled almost every job in the house. I can fix and install garbage disposals, snake out any type of drain, repair the innards of a toilet, take apart a dryer and put it back together, hang doors, repair sheetrock, tape and bed sheetrock, paint, hang wallpaper, lay tile, and handle minor car maintenance. Once I took the spring off of a garage door before I realized that it could be a little dangerous.  I can work on electrical appliances but I've never worked on outlets, even with the current off.  I will at least try almost any job.  My younger daughter owns a house and I'm thinking I might pour concrete this summer for a small patio.  My dad was an ace at concrete.

All three of my children can handle tools.  My older daughter is the least interested and probably has the least need. My son is quite capable but he probably has the least time to spend on home repairs and/or improvements.  My younger daughter, on the other hand, proudly follows her
grandfather's example.  She recently bought a new washer, hauled it home and installed it herself.  She then took the knobs off her old washer and transferred them to her dryer before kicking the old washer to the curb. 

Not too long ago she snaked out a toy comb from the toilet in her daughter's bathroom. And she learned the trick of using a potato to twist out part of a broken light bulb from the socket.  In college, she was her group's auto expert because she could install a new battery at the drop of a hat.  She even wore her safety vest. 

And now a third fourth generation seems to share this same love.  My three-and-a-half year old granddaughter plays with her wooden toy set for hours when she is at my house.  I have a lightweight hammer that she can use when we do "real" work.  She can use a screwdriver correctly but I have to watch her because she likes to use it on all sorts of things.  She wields a wicked pair of clippers when we work outside.

She concentrates on her work with her tongue between her teeth.  Again just following the family tradition.

Refrigerator genetics

Mr. Darnell taught my 10th grade biology class where I first became fascinated by Mendel and his peas.  And until my fruit flies died my freshman year of college, I wanted to be a genetic researcher.  After the fruit flies, I decided I didn't want a career that might be dependent on insects and spent in basement labs but I never really gave up my fascination for genetics.  I still use what I know as a diversion when I'm in class that fails to hold my attention.  I decide on a set number of couples stranded on a deserted island then figure out how many generations it would take before everyone was related to everyone else.

While I think mapping the human genome is a wonderful thing and learning the genetic roots of many diseases, I think it might be time to check out how genetics might affect more social/personal issues.  Take for example, the refrigerator.

I take a bare minimalist view to my refrigerator.  I like to be able to see everything as well as the shelves.  Everyone else in my family seem to love a full to the brim refrigerator. I approach their refrigerators with dread because I never know where something will be and how much I may have to move before I find what I wanted and there is always the risk of finding something distasteful that they have saved. (Distasteful due to my own food issues, not that they don't keep a clean refrigerator!) Now before you point out that I live alone and need only food for one person while the other refrigerators may serve families, please know that my mother keeps and my grandmother kept a full refrigerator after being widowed.

So is there a genetic connection that makes hunting in a refrigerator abhorrent to me?  A recessive gene that found its place within my being.  Is it connected to the gene that makes me feel no redeeming virtue in cleaning my house?  When my mother, daughter, aunt, and cousin all exclaim how good it makes them feel when their house is clean, all I can think of is how much time was wasted.  Just as there are genetic combinations that lead to blue eyes instead of brown, maybe there is also a genetic combination that leads to reading instead of cleaning.  Just as I can't roll my tongue or whistle, I could blame my needing a clear view inside my refrigerator to the recessive genes of my parents.

Lottery Logic

I play the lottery.  Just the Texas Lotto on Wednesdays and Saturdays and not every Wednesday and Saturday.  My purchase must conform to my own guiding principles.

l.  I play when I'm really struggling or really thriving.  I think about the post-win interview and think these two situations offer the best scenarios.  "Gosh, I really wasn't sure if I could make it to the end of the month and then I won the lottery!" Or "Life is wonderful.  I have a great job, family and friends so winning the lottery is like the cherry on top of the sundae!" If things are horrible, I don't play and if life is just okay, I don't play.  The interviews wouldn't be as good.

2. I play a set of numbers that I've used for years.  Obviously these are not my lucky numbers since I've never won anything with them.  If I stopped playing them and they hit, I'd feel a fool.

3. To balance out my personal set of numbers, I buy a quick pick (where the computer gives me the numbers) because I read that quick picks win more often. I usually pay for one quick pick since all it takes is one to win.  When I'm feeling really lucky, I buy a second one.

4. Going back to the interview scenario, I never say I don't know what I will do with all that money or that it wouldn't change me.  I always know how I will spend/donate/invest every cent of the jackpot.  And, while I don't think it will change my personality or my relationships, I hope it will change my lifestyle, my travel opportunities and my retirement.  Why play if there weren't going to be changes?

5. When the jackpot reaches crazy amounts ($100+ million), I don't play.  Such amounts just seem beyond the realm of dreams and I'm not willing to compete with the people who spend huge amounts of money on tickets.  Of course, I mentally work the math so I know how I would be use the money.  Just to keep in practice.

Starbucks Syndrome

I love Starbucks. When a friend introduced me to the delights of chocolate, milk, coffee and whipped cream, I fell hard. And my devotion has never wavered.  I love the drive-thrus, the running in mid-morning for a pick-me-up, and the cozy Saturday mornings reading a good book in store.

So when I needed a second job a few years ago, I did what I always advise any out-of-work person, I applied at Starbucks.  And was hired.  Excited at the chance to be part of a customer's Starbuck's experience, I eagerly donned the uniform green apron.

The job sucked.  Not fun at all.  Very little interaction with the customers and not anything close to what I imagined.  Where as a customer I savored the experience, I now rushed from one task to the other. Many nights I sat in my care before driving home and cried.  Every bone connected to my spinal cord hurt.

Plus I came to believe that Starbucks was more than a company, it was a cult. We members wore uniforms, learned a secret language (Starbucks has an acronym for everything) and studied all things coffee.  I attended training sessions in a secure room (special code and everything) with an instructor that said "okay" every 15 seconds. 

After six weeks I quit.  I still love being a customer and, because of the experience, I developed the concept of the Starbucks Syndrome.  This syndrome manifests itself when a job I think will be wonderful ends up as an epic fail.  I wish I could say working at Starbucks was my only experience with this condition but it isn't.

After law school, I earned the chance to work with one of my idols.  The first nine months were wonderful.  I loved the work we did.  I loved listening to her talk.  My other co-workers were funny and caring.  Our clients were inspirational. And then the Starbucks Syndrome kicked in and I found my main job to be watering the upstairs plants (it was a home office) with constant direction. Not anything close to what I had imagined.  I hung in for nine more months and then left with a glad heart.

Now I'm looking for my next best opportunity.  I still believe in dream jobs.  I am just a little more realistic in my dreams.