I am going to have to take a break from news for a week to see if I can calm down. I was moved to tears so many times last week listening to the inspiring speeches given in Denver, and within 24 hours of the high of hearing Obama's historic nomination acceptance speech I was once again feeling desperate and scared, angry and betrayed by news from the GOP. First, the appalling VP choice; then the president taking the opportunity of a hurricane in the Gulf to again make his case for additional oil drilling there.
Wait a minute, if the idea is that a Gulf coast hurricane can seriously jeopardize oil production there, WHY are we looking to add extra platforms right in harm's way? This man is interested in NOTHING but oil. Every action he has taken in the White House has been tied in some way to oil. I have taken to calling oil the root of all evil in the world...because whatever is wrong right now you can tie it directly to either the production of, the use of, the pollution from, or the craving for, oil.
And then, this evening as Ms. Sarah-I-Don't-Believe-Global-Warming-Is-Manmade is giving her speech, I see a news ticker that a huge chunk of an ice shelf has broken off, further alarming scientists as to how rapidly the oceans are warming.
If you do nothing else when you go to vote this fall think about what you are doing for your children by the choice you make. Is their future REALLY better now than it was before Bush took office? Do you truly think that John and Sarah are going to make it all better? Really?
So meanwhile I'm going to self-impose No News on myself for a week. I need to see if cutting myself off from the 24-hour news cycle cold turkey can improve my outlook.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
MY view as a mother
Yes, I'm STILL wound up about dear Sarah...just ask The Reenactor. Don't say the word "Sarah" in my house unless you want a diatribe complete with foaming mouth and much stomping about. My newest rant though is just how oblivious the far right is to their own hypocrisy. I for one am very alarmed that a woman who gave birth to a special needs child just a few months ago, thinks in her family-values world that taking on this all-consuming job of campaigning (and heaven forbid she's the winner) the 24/7 job of vice president is a great idea. Yes, Daddy Palin in theory can help with the baby, but the point is that BOTH parents need to be focusing as much time and energy as possible into their baby and HIS needs right now.
Having a baby is exhausting--ask any new parent. Having a special needs baby adds even more time both parents should be spending seeing to his needs. Now, add into that mix the news that your teenage daughter is pregnant. For any regular family this would be considered a pretty complicated year....one where I feel like MOST families would feel they need to close ranks and focus on working through all the new changes and challenges in their lives. Oh, but wait a minute...forget all that...now Mom decides she should spend the next few months (please not years) running for national office...yeah...GREAT idea!
I am certainly not saying that women should give up their careers to raise their families. But MOST women don't have to choose to take on this type of career move at a time in their families' lives where they are most needed. And most professional women don't make a point of standing on a stage preaching how pro-family they are at a time when their own families need them the most. Sarah made a choice. Granted, she was already governor when she got pregnant with--and gave birth to--her fifth baby. She was already in a high-stress, high-demand job. But the fact that she has made a point of adding even more stress and demand on HER time in the first year of his life makes me question HER family values. And the fact that she knew what a bright light of negative energy was going to glare on her teenage daughter at a time when she least needs it also makes me question just how seriously she takes her role not just as a mother, but as a PARENT.
And finally...all you Dobson-lovin' family values folks out there...why is it when one of your own comes up short on the "value-o-meter" it is a good thing, but heaven help the "liberal" who has a lapse in judgment? I promise you...and think about this...had this been one of Obama's beautiful daughters (as teenagers) can you imagine the indignation that would ensue from the righty talkers? The rants that would come from radios and televisions across the country about black teenagers getting pregnant? Can you imagine even if it were Chelsea who was pregnant? How it would be just like someone raised by Bill and Hillary to get pregnant out of wedlock?
And one more "finally" that has been getting to me. Sarah has been called a "hero" for not aborting Trig...even though she knew before he was born that he had Downs Syndrome. She isn't a hero...she is a mother. These days most parents DO know before the child is born if there are health issues. Personally, this was something The Reenactor and I were aware of that could be a possibility before our own T1 and T2 were born. We had multiple tests to check their health status (including an amnio), and even before we had the tests done I KNEW, and so did my husband, that there was no way we would abort...even if they had been a D.S. baby. We were already too in love with them. We were already parents. Being a parent means accepting and loving the baby God blesses you with. Making a choice to keep your Downs Syndrome baby doesn't make you heroic...thousands of people make this decision every year. Being a responsible parent after the baby is born and sacrificing your own interests to see that they get the best care...THAT makes you a hero. I question whether Sarah is truly doing that.
My heart breaks for any mother or father who is faced with this, or with other health issues that are life-threatening to their unborn child, or to the health of the mother. I know people for whom this has been a wrenching decision. None of this....NONE of this should be a factor that is trumpeted from the political stage as making one candidate superior to another.
And please, Sarah, and the evangelical base who support you, please don't dare suggest you are more "pro-family" than I am.
Having a baby is exhausting--ask any new parent. Having a special needs baby adds even more time both parents should be spending seeing to his needs. Now, add into that mix the news that your teenage daughter is pregnant. For any regular family this would be considered a pretty complicated year....one where I feel like MOST families would feel they need to close ranks and focus on working through all the new changes and challenges in their lives. Oh, but wait a minute...forget all that...now Mom decides she should spend the next few months (please not years) running for national office...yeah...GREAT idea!
I am certainly not saying that women should give up their careers to raise their families. But MOST women don't have to choose to take on this type of career move at a time in their families' lives where they are most needed. And most professional women don't make a point of standing on a stage preaching how pro-family they are at a time when their own families need them the most. Sarah made a choice. Granted, she was already governor when she got pregnant with--and gave birth to--her fifth baby. She was already in a high-stress, high-demand job. But the fact that she has made a point of adding even more stress and demand on HER time in the first year of his life makes me question HER family values. And the fact that she knew what a bright light of negative energy was going to glare on her teenage daughter at a time when she least needs it also makes me question just how seriously she takes her role not just as a mother, but as a PARENT.
And finally...all you Dobson-lovin' family values folks out there...why is it when one of your own comes up short on the "value-o-meter" it is a good thing, but heaven help the "liberal" who has a lapse in judgment? I promise you...and think about this...had this been one of Obama's beautiful daughters (as teenagers) can you imagine the indignation that would ensue from the righty talkers? The rants that would come from radios and televisions across the country about black teenagers getting pregnant? Can you imagine even if it were Chelsea who was pregnant? How it would be just like someone raised by Bill and Hillary to get pregnant out of wedlock?
And one more "finally" that has been getting to me. Sarah has been called a "hero" for not aborting Trig...even though she knew before he was born that he had Downs Syndrome. She isn't a hero...she is a mother. These days most parents DO know before the child is born if there are health issues. Personally, this was something The Reenactor and I were aware of that could be a possibility before our own T1 and T2 were born. We had multiple tests to check their health status (including an amnio), and even before we had the tests done I KNEW, and so did my husband, that there was no way we would abort...even if they had been a D.S. baby. We were already too in love with them. We were already parents. Being a parent means accepting and loving the baby God blesses you with. Making a choice to keep your Downs Syndrome baby doesn't make you heroic...thousands of people make this decision every year. Being a responsible parent after the baby is born and sacrificing your own interests to see that they get the best care...THAT makes you a hero. I question whether Sarah is truly doing that.
My heart breaks for any mother or father who is faced with this, or with other health issues that are life-threatening to their unborn child, or to the health of the mother. I know people for whom this has been a wrenching decision. None of this....NONE of this should be a factor that is trumpeted from the political stage as making one candidate superior to another.
And please, Sarah, and the evangelical base who support you, please don't dare suggest you are more "pro-family" than I am.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
the vagina monologue
Does Mr. McCain really think that because his vice presidential pick is a woman that all women who are "disenfranchised" Hillary supporters are going to flock to his ticket and vote for him? Does he REALLY think that women are that stupid? Does he really believe that we will look at her and think, "gee, I really relate to HER, she's a mom and a WOMAN!" and we'll happily make that big check mark on the Republican ticket come November?
Personally, I am insulted on SO many levels by his choice. First, it is SO obvious that she is not a qualified candidate by any measure to be one heartbeat away from the most important elected office in the world. Second, because she isn't qualified, there must be some reason he picked her...hmmmm...what could it be? What is it that the 18 million voters who cracked that "glass ceiling" were voting for? Was it JUST because Hillary was a woman? Or rather, was it because there were 18 million voters out there who believed that the policies of the current administration AND their party are taking our country down a disastrous path. Does his party really, REALLY believe that just because he parades a woman out as his VP choice ("look...we can think women are smart too!") that we (those of us with vaginas) are going to fall in line and think THAT is a brilliant idea?
At least, at the very least, he could have picked a woman with a better resume, someone who actually hasn't only been in state-level elected office for under two years, and just a month ago was asking (on a broadcast interview, no less) that someone should please explain to her exactly what it IS the vice president does on a daily basis? Are you frickin' KIDDING me? Are there really, truly NO other qualified women in the Republican party? Is it her adorable little glasses and puffy hairdo? Is it the fact that she is the mother of five? Well, so is Nancy Pelosi...get over yourself about that. If breeding children is an qualification for being the president of the US (remember, she could be just a breath away) then I would rather vote for "Kate" of Jon and Kate Make Eight.
And yet, the GOP seems to think that I WON'T be insulted by this choice?
Yes, yes, there are women out there who are as solidly in line with the GOP as I am with the Democratic Party, and they are probably giggling amongst themselves about how John sure did pull a fast one on those Democrats...NOW look who has a woman on the ticket!! But sadly, they miss the point. They TOTALLY miss the point. The fact is that all women...all of us who are mothers, or grandmothers, or sisters, or wives, or daughters...should be thinking just how critical this election is to our very existence...and the future of our own children. The next president MUST tackle the issue of global warming. We are on the cusp of it being too late as it is...we cannot waste another four years on this issue. The next president MUST restore our standing in the world community, and not get us involved in any more hostilities. Our next president MUST make affordable healthcare for ALL citizens a priority. I promise...it will be absolutely the thing that finally caps off the middle class of this country if we don't change how it runs now.
The GOP talking heads are all raving about how she's "pro-life." Great. I won't argue her right to think that women shouldn't have abortions. But here's an idea, Sarah. It's all fine and well to protect the rights of the unborn, but what about the born....what about the babies of parents who can't afford to take them to the doc to get checked for bronchitis or pneumonia? What about the toddlers who are diagnosed with Autism who can't get the help they need because their school districts or communities offer no help for this disorder, and their parents can't afford help. What about the fact that our own children face a world of food shortages, and new diseases that will be brought on by climate change? What about all those babies (born and unborn) in Iraq who have been killed or injured for NO reason other than greed for oil and revenge for Daddy's failures by Shrub?
I'm a Democrat, I'm a woman, and I AM Pro Life--PROtective of the lives suffering in our midst now. I believe that the abortion issue (which I honestly have very personal mixed feelings about) should NOT be the deciding factor on every other important issue before our country and world right now. I believe that if you are "pro-life" you ought to be aggressively seeking ways to feed, house, educate and care for the millions of children in our own country who are living in poverty right now.
Don't pander to me, Mr. McCain. Don't think that your "trophy" VP pick will appeal to average women any more than your beer-heiress, multiple-house owning wife does. Most women are NOT life-long members of the NRA, most women haven't been (or wanted to be) beauty queens. Most women ARE smart enough to see though your veiled attempt at placating the Hillary supporters. And most women think it's poor indication of your own judgment.
Personally, I am insulted on SO many levels by his choice. First, it is SO obvious that she is not a qualified candidate by any measure to be one heartbeat away from the most important elected office in the world. Second, because she isn't qualified, there must be some reason he picked her...hmmmm...what could it be? What is it that the 18 million voters who cracked that "glass ceiling" were voting for? Was it JUST because Hillary was a woman? Or rather, was it because there were 18 million voters out there who believed that the policies of the current administration AND their party are taking our country down a disastrous path. Does his party really, REALLY believe that just because he parades a woman out as his VP choice ("look...we can think women are smart too!") that we (those of us with vaginas) are going to fall in line and think THAT is a brilliant idea?
At least, at the very least, he could have picked a woman with a better resume, someone who actually hasn't only been in state-level elected office for under two years, and just a month ago was asking (on a broadcast interview, no less) that someone should please explain to her exactly what it IS the vice president does on a daily basis? Are you frickin' KIDDING me? Are there really, truly NO other qualified women in the Republican party? Is it her adorable little glasses and puffy hairdo? Is it the fact that she is the mother of five? Well, so is Nancy Pelosi...get over yourself about that. If breeding children is an qualification for being the president of the US (remember, she could be just a breath away) then I would rather vote for "Kate" of Jon and Kate Make Eight.
And yet, the GOP seems to think that I WON'T be insulted by this choice?
Yes, yes, there are women out there who are as solidly in line with the GOP as I am with the Democratic Party, and they are probably giggling amongst themselves about how John sure did pull a fast one on those Democrats...NOW look who has a woman on the ticket!! But sadly, they miss the point. They TOTALLY miss the point. The fact is that all women...all of us who are mothers, or grandmothers, or sisters, or wives, or daughters...should be thinking just how critical this election is to our very existence...and the future of our own children. The next president MUST tackle the issue of global warming. We are on the cusp of it being too late as it is...we cannot waste another four years on this issue. The next president MUST restore our standing in the world community, and not get us involved in any more hostilities. Our next president MUST make affordable healthcare for ALL citizens a priority. I promise...it will be absolutely the thing that finally caps off the middle class of this country if we don't change how it runs now.
The GOP talking heads are all raving about how she's "pro-life." Great. I won't argue her right to think that women shouldn't have abortions. But here's an idea, Sarah. It's all fine and well to protect the rights of the unborn, but what about the born....what about the babies of parents who can't afford to take them to the doc to get checked for bronchitis or pneumonia? What about the toddlers who are diagnosed with Autism who can't get the help they need because their school districts or communities offer no help for this disorder, and their parents can't afford help. What about the fact that our own children face a world of food shortages, and new diseases that will be brought on by climate change? What about all those babies (born and unborn) in Iraq who have been killed or injured for NO reason other than greed for oil and revenge for Daddy's failures by Shrub?
I'm a Democrat, I'm a woman, and I AM Pro Life--PROtective of the lives suffering in our midst now. I believe that the abortion issue (which I honestly have very personal mixed feelings about) should NOT be the deciding factor on every other important issue before our country and world right now. I believe that if you are "pro-life" you ought to be aggressively seeking ways to feed, house, educate and care for the millions of children in our own country who are living in poverty right now.
Don't pander to me, Mr. McCain. Don't think that your "trophy" VP pick will appeal to average women any more than your beer-heiress, multiple-house owning wife does. Most women are NOT life-long members of the NRA, most women haven't been (or wanted to be) beauty queens. Most women ARE smart enough to see though your veiled attempt at placating the Hillary supporters. And most women think it's poor indication of your own judgment.
Monday, August 25, 2008
les Miserables
One of the fun (ironic use of word here) things about people chatting on their cell phones in public places, is that those of us who aren't part of the conversation get to listen to just one side of the story, and make assumptions about what is going on.
I was in a waiting room this morning, and while attempting to read a book, was so distracted by a one-sided conversation I couldn't help but overhearing, that I don't remember a word I read. A woman in her mid-60s, and with an obnoxiously loud voice with a strong South-in-the-mouth drawl, was informing the poor person on the other end of her phone conversation about all the horrible things going on in her family. One family member had died of a heroin overdose two years ago; another had loaned money to someone claiming to need it for tuition, but of course (I'm quoting here) "you know where it went...to WEED." The woman complained about another relative who was living with her boyfriend, and how her own sister wouldn't loan her any money, even though she "had $1600 to have a tree cut down at her house in Florida." This woman was apparently having trouble paying her bills, to which I wanted to point out that rather than borrow money from her Florida sister, maybe cutting back on cell phone usage might be a step in the right direction.
Oh, this woman was chatty, and obnoxious, and literally had a cloud of disappointment and misery floating around her. You could just feel the negativity vibrating from her...even across the room.
Either she was filling in her phone friend with the latest details from her favorite soap opera (which is what this all sounded like), or she truly can't find any single thing in her life to report to her caller that was positive.
Thankfully I didn't have to listen long, but her conversation obviously stuck with me. It makes me wonder what the person on the other end of the call was thinking. I hope whoever it was just tolerated her unpleasant phone call and got off the line as soon as gracefully possible.
Whatever happened to the good old days of the relative privacy afforded by phone booths?
I was in a waiting room this morning, and while attempting to read a book, was so distracted by a one-sided conversation I couldn't help but overhearing, that I don't remember a word I read. A woman in her mid-60s, and with an obnoxiously loud voice with a strong South-in-the-mouth drawl, was informing the poor person on the other end of her phone conversation about all the horrible things going on in her family. One family member had died of a heroin overdose two years ago; another had loaned money to someone claiming to need it for tuition, but of course (I'm quoting here) "you know where it went...to WEED." The woman complained about another relative who was living with her boyfriend, and how her own sister wouldn't loan her any money, even though she "had $1600 to have a tree cut down at her house in Florida." This woman was apparently having trouble paying her bills, to which I wanted to point out that rather than borrow money from her Florida sister, maybe cutting back on cell phone usage might be a step in the right direction.
Oh, this woman was chatty, and obnoxious, and literally had a cloud of disappointment and misery floating around her. You could just feel the negativity vibrating from her...even across the room.
Either she was filling in her phone friend with the latest details from her favorite soap opera (which is what this all sounded like), or she truly can't find any single thing in her life to report to her caller that was positive.
Thankfully I didn't have to listen long, but her conversation obviously stuck with me. It makes me wonder what the person on the other end of the call was thinking. I hope whoever it was just tolerated her unpleasant phone call and got off the line as soon as gracefully possible.
Whatever happened to the good old days of the relative privacy afforded by phone booths?
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Yes, but is it art?
This was the question that a Drury art professor posed to me and my classmates during our project "show and tell" time each week. In this particular class we were presented with an art "problem" and told what materials we could, and couldn't use to create a work of art to "solve' the problem. It was a great class, and taught me a lot about how to look at everyday objects differently, and with the idea that anything can be made into art, as long as there is intent and follow-through from the artist. It was a concept I already understood, but this particular class, and the repeated question of "It is nice, but is it art?" at the end of each critique made me see that some art really IS art, and a lot of it is bullshit.
So The Reenactor and I took T1 and T2 to St. Louis today to enjoy the cool dinosaur exhibit at the STL zoo (very, very cool...especially if you are geeky enough to like animatronic dinosaurs) and after a few hours looking at animals we went to the STL art museum, just up the hill from the zoo. We had come armed with sketchbooks, pencils and crayons, and The Reenactor left the three of us there to enjoy art (and do some sketching) while he went to the nearby MO History Museum for an exhibit on the lives of Lee and Grant. We lead an exciting life, no?
So we started in the downstairs galleries, where I've taken the kids several times, and they know all the rules about not touching the walls (or the art) and being quiet and calm so as to not alarm the guards, and they enjoyed sketching their versions of some of the paintings...mostly from the classical period...in their drawing books. We finished up down there and still had some time to look around, so we went where I've never taken them before...the third floor modern art wing. Well, this was a whole new world to T1 and T2...they were amazed at the difference in what was on the walls, and the floor, in that wing. We browsed through a gallery of pre-WWI German modern paintings---who knew the Germans were so colorful and fun before the Great War? Then we went into a gallery that housed several large paintings that mostly consisted of industrial themed drippings of paint and other materials on very large canvases. While T1 and T2 were NOT impressed, I still tried to explain that this was in fact art, and in some circles was very respected and admired. On one wall of this gallery were four panels, each approx. 6 x 12 feet vertical rectangles...all four matching sheets of glass with charcoal gray paint covering the back side. They had an odd mirror-like quality to them, and sure enough, when I read the description of them, the artist intended that they be "mirror-like" yet with a diminished quality so that the reflection isn't true. Well, okay....good for you. Your big gray shiny squares are in a major gallery. Woohoo!
THEN we came to the room with two object d'art displayed...one was a "quilt" made of hundreds or thousands of bits of metal from cans or boxes held together with small metal brads. It was interesting in a funky sort of way, although T1 was very dismissive of it...said it was a "quilt made of junk." AND in the middle of this room was a ring of rocks. Yes, a ring I'm guessing 15 feet in diameter, and approximately mounded up to 2 feet tall, with a ring width of 3 feet or so, of limestone rocks...a smaller version riff-raff like you fill a ditch with. It was just a ring of rocks. T1 and T2 were appalled. WHY is there a pile of rocks in here, they demanded. After shushing them, I explained that someone had thought to make an artistic statement with those rocks, and therefore, there they were.
Of course T2, in spite of being warned repeatedly to stay clear of them, managed to snag his foot on one of the rocks in the ring, dislodging it and moving it about 2 inches, and just as I was readying to ease it back into place with my foot, the VERY snarky guard in that room yelled at me to LEAVE IT ALONE. I imagine I would get snarky too if I had to guard a circle of rocks all day, but this guy got hysterical with several visitors over their camera usage, and yelled at T1 because she "walked too fast" through the gallery. Damn. You're ruining this whole modern gallery thing for us, dude.
Which brings us back to the original question...is it art? Within feet of this ring of rocks are paintings and sculptures by the likes of Warhol, Rothko, Matisse, and those cool German artists I had never heard of but really liked their stuff. I overheard a woman in the gallery (after having been shrieked at by the guard to not even dare to use her flash to photograph the Rothko painting) observe of the rocks, "well I guess someone thinks it is art, but it looks like something I could have done at home." THIS is my point. I always feel like I have been duped when I see something like this in a gallery. I call bullshit. What, exactly, is the point of the circle of rocks? Is it supposed to make us feel the hollowness of our existence? Is it meant to represent the circle of life---as seen through the eyes of a person who has been doing a lot of landscaping with limestone recently? Hmm? I have seen beautiful art made simple natural elements, and I understand that sometimes a simple visual element can make a powerful statement, but I just never got past the fact that this was just rocks.
The Reenactor asked me when I was relating this story to him what the rocks were meant to represent. I said I thought it represented that some bullshit artist had convinced a wealthy art patron that his circular pile of riff-raff was worthy of purchasing and donating to a major museum.
I realize that many of you who read this blog are artists, or involved in cultural activities to the extent that you might find yourself defending the circle of rocks artist for his right to represent his art in this manner. All I know is I saw no technique, no use of creative skill, no real intrinsic beauty in it. It didn't move me emotionally...either positively or negatively..it just was there. And no, my critique is it ISN'T art.
So The Reenactor and I took T1 and T2 to St. Louis today to enjoy the cool dinosaur exhibit at the STL zoo (very, very cool...especially if you are geeky enough to like animatronic dinosaurs) and after a few hours looking at animals we went to the STL art museum, just up the hill from the zoo. We had come armed with sketchbooks, pencils and crayons, and The Reenactor left the three of us there to enjoy art (and do some sketching) while he went to the nearby MO History Museum for an exhibit on the lives of Lee and Grant. We lead an exciting life, no?
So we started in the downstairs galleries, where I've taken the kids several times, and they know all the rules about not touching the walls (or the art) and being quiet and calm so as to not alarm the guards, and they enjoyed sketching their versions of some of the paintings...mostly from the classical period...in their drawing books. We finished up down there and still had some time to look around, so we went where I've never taken them before...the third floor modern art wing. Well, this was a whole new world to T1 and T2...they were amazed at the difference in what was on the walls, and the floor, in that wing. We browsed through a gallery of pre-WWI German modern paintings---who knew the Germans were so colorful and fun before the Great War? Then we went into a gallery that housed several large paintings that mostly consisted of industrial themed drippings of paint and other materials on very large canvases. While T1 and T2 were NOT impressed, I still tried to explain that this was in fact art, and in some circles was very respected and admired. On one wall of this gallery were four panels, each approx. 6 x 12 feet vertical rectangles...all four matching sheets of glass with charcoal gray paint covering the back side. They had an odd mirror-like quality to them, and sure enough, when I read the description of them, the artist intended that they be "mirror-like" yet with a diminished quality so that the reflection isn't true. Well, okay....good for you. Your big gray shiny squares are in a major gallery. Woohoo!
THEN we came to the room with two object d'art displayed...one was a "quilt" made of hundreds or thousands of bits of metal from cans or boxes held together with small metal brads. It was interesting in a funky sort of way, although T1 was very dismissive of it...said it was a "quilt made of junk." AND in the middle of this room was a ring of rocks. Yes, a ring I'm guessing 15 feet in diameter, and approximately mounded up to 2 feet tall, with a ring width of 3 feet or so, of limestone rocks...a smaller version riff-raff like you fill a ditch with. It was just a ring of rocks. T1 and T2 were appalled. WHY is there a pile of rocks in here, they demanded. After shushing them, I explained that someone had thought to make an artistic statement with those rocks, and therefore, there they were.
Of course T2, in spite of being warned repeatedly to stay clear of them, managed to snag his foot on one of the rocks in the ring, dislodging it and moving it about 2 inches, and just as I was readying to ease it back into place with my foot, the VERY snarky guard in that room yelled at me to LEAVE IT ALONE. I imagine I would get snarky too if I had to guard a circle of rocks all day, but this guy got hysterical with several visitors over their camera usage, and yelled at T1 because she "walked too fast" through the gallery. Damn. You're ruining this whole modern gallery thing for us, dude.
Which brings us back to the original question...is it art? Within feet of this ring of rocks are paintings and sculptures by the likes of Warhol, Rothko, Matisse, and those cool German artists I had never heard of but really liked their stuff. I overheard a woman in the gallery (after having been shrieked at by the guard to not even dare to use her flash to photograph the Rothko painting) observe of the rocks, "well I guess someone thinks it is art, but it looks like something I could have done at home." THIS is my point. I always feel like I have been duped when I see something like this in a gallery. I call bullshit. What, exactly, is the point of the circle of rocks? Is it supposed to make us feel the hollowness of our existence? Is it meant to represent the circle of life---as seen through the eyes of a person who has been doing a lot of landscaping with limestone recently? Hmm? I have seen beautiful art made simple natural elements, and I understand that sometimes a simple visual element can make a powerful statement, but I just never got past the fact that this was just rocks.
The Reenactor asked me when I was relating this story to him what the rocks were meant to represent. I said I thought it represented that some bullshit artist had convinced a wealthy art patron that his circular pile of riff-raff was worthy of purchasing and donating to a major museum.
I realize that many of you who read this blog are artists, or involved in cultural activities to the extent that you might find yourself defending the circle of rocks artist for his right to represent his art in this manner. All I know is I saw no technique, no use of creative skill, no real intrinsic beauty in it. It didn't move me emotionally...either positively or negatively..it just was there. And no, my critique is it ISN'T art.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
I can see clearly now
To those of you not of the virtual family campfire here's the scoop. Our beach week was cut short because I got a call from my eye doc asking if I would like to move up the Lasik surgery I had scheduled for mid-August to Friday of last week, and in the process, get to be "cut" by a better machine, AND save a thousand bucks. Hmmm...let me think about that and get back to you.
Had it done yesterday....$1000 is too good a savings to ignore. Things still a bit hazy, and a bit gritty feeling. I can see clearly out of my left eye, but the right is still a bit blurry...but hopefully that will clear up in a few days. But, for the first time since I was in high school I drove a car today without prescription glasses on my face.
Now THAT is something to be thankful for.
Had it done yesterday....$1000 is too good a savings to ignore. Things still a bit hazy, and a bit gritty feeling. I can see clearly out of my left eye, but the right is still a bit blurry...but hopefully that will clear up in a few days. But, for the first time since I was in high school I drove a car today without prescription glasses on my face.
Now THAT is something to be thankful for.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
beach
The virtual campfire is moving to South Carolina for a week. If I have an opportunity to lay hands on an internet connection I'll post, otherwise....
if you're lucky enough to be at the beach, you're lucky enough.
if you're lucky enough to be at the beach, you're lucky enough.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
speech
"... we seemingly tolerate a rising level of violence that ignores our common humanity and our claims to civilization alike. We calmly accept newspaper reports of civilian slaughter in far-off lands. We glorify killing on movie and television screens and call it entertainment. We make it easy for men of all shades of sanity to acquire whatever weapons and ammunition they desire.
Too often we honor swagger and bluster and wielders of force; too often we excuse those who are willing to build their own lives on the shattered dreams of others. Some Americans who preach non-violence abroad fail to practice it here at home. Some who accuse others of inciting riots have by their own conduct invited them.
Some look for scapegoats, others look for conspiracies, but this much is clear: violence breeds violence, repression brings retaliation, and only a cleansing of our whole society can remove this sickness from our soul.
For there is another kind of violence, slower but just as deadly destructive as the shot or the bomb in the night. This is the violence of institutions; indifference and inaction and slow decay. This is the violence that afflicts the poor, that poisons relations between men because their skin has different colors. This is the slow destruction of a child by hunger, and schools without books and homes without heat in the winter.
"...When you teach a man to hate and fear his brother, when you teach that he is a lesser man because of his color or his beliefs or the policies he pursues, when you teach that those who differ from you threaten your freedom or your job or your family, then you also learn to confront others not as fellow citizens but as enemies, to be met not with cooperation but with conquest; to be subjugated and mastered.
We learn, at the last, to look at our brothers as aliens, men with whom we share a city, but not a community; men bound to us in common dwelling, but not in common effort. We learn to share only a common fear, only a common desire to retreat from each other, only a common impulse to meet disagreement with force. For all this, there are no final answers.
Yet we know what we must do. It is to achieve true justice among our fellow citizens. The question is not what programs we should seek to enact. The question is whether we can find in our own midst and in our own hearts that leadership of humane purpose that will recognize the terrible truths of our existence.
We must admit the vanity of our false distinctions among men and learn to find our own advancement in the search for the advancement of others. We must admit in ourselves that our own children's future cannot be built on the misfortunes of others. We must recognize that this short life can neither be ennobled or enriched by hatred or revenge.
Our lives on this planet are too short and the work to be done too great to let this spirit flourish any longer in our land. Of course we cannot vanquish it with a program, nor with a resolution.
But we can perhaps remember, if only for a time, that those who live with us are our brothers, that they share with us the same short moment of life; that they seek, as do we, nothing but the chance to live out their lives in purpose and in happiness, winning what satisfaction and fulfillment they can.
Surely, this bond of common faith, this bond of common goal, can begin to teach us something. Surely, we can learn, at least, to look at those around us as fellow men, and surely we can begin to work a little harder to bind up the wounds among us and to become in our own hearts brothers and countrymen once again."
Excerpts from a speech made by Robert F. Kennedy in 1968
Too often we honor swagger and bluster and wielders of force; too often we excuse those who are willing to build their own lives on the shattered dreams of others. Some Americans who preach non-violence abroad fail to practice it here at home. Some who accuse others of inciting riots have by their own conduct invited them.
Some look for scapegoats, others look for conspiracies, but this much is clear: violence breeds violence, repression brings retaliation, and only a cleansing of our whole society can remove this sickness from our soul.
For there is another kind of violence, slower but just as deadly destructive as the shot or the bomb in the night. This is the violence of institutions; indifference and inaction and slow decay. This is the violence that afflicts the poor, that poisons relations between men because their skin has different colors. This is the slow destruction of a child by hunger, and schools without books and homes without heat in the winter.
"...When you teach a man to hate and fear his brother, when you teach that he is a lesser man because of his color or his beliefs or the policies he pursues, when you teach that those who differ from you threaten your freedom or your job or your family, then you also learn to confront others not as fellow citizens but as enemies, to be met not with cooperation but with conquest; to be subjugated and mastered.
We learn, at the last, to look at our brothers as aliens, men with whom we share a city, but not a community; men bound to us in common dwelling, but not in common effort. We learn to share only a common fear, only a common desire to retreat from each other, only a common impulse to meet disagreement with force. For all this, there are no final answers.
Yet we know what we must do. It is to achieve true justice among our fellow citizens. The question is not what programs we should seek to enact. The question is whether we can find in our own midst and in our own hearts that leadership of humane purpose that will recognize the terrible truths of our existence.
We must admit the vanity of our false distinctions among men and learn to find our own advancement in the search for the advancement of others. We must admit in ourselves that our own children's future cannot be built on the misfortunes of others. We must recognize that this short life can neither be ennobled or enriched by hatred or revenge.
Our lives on this planet are too short and the work to be done too great to let this spirit flourish any longer in our land. Of course we cannot vanquish it with a program, nor with a resolution.
But we can perhaps remember, if only for a time, that those who live with us are our brothers, that they share with us the same short moment of life; that they seek, as do we, nothing but the chance to live out their lives in purpose and in happiness, winning what satisfaction and fulfillment they can.
Surely, this bond of common faith, this bond of common goal, can begin to teach us something. Surely, we can learn, at least, to look at those around us as fellow men, and surely we can begin to work a little harder to bind up the wounds among us and to become in our own hearts brothers and countrymen once again."
Excerpts from a speech made by Robert F. Kennedy in 1968
Sunday, July 13, 2008
The happiness of blueberries
Thanks to a "check this out" email from a friend I found a place locally to pick blueberries. To give you an idea of how ignorant I am about blueberries, I didn't realize they even grew in these parts. I thought they required cooler, drier climates than the hell-hot and humid western part of the Commonwealth. But grow they do, and this particular pick-your-own farm gave me an opportunity on two different occasions last week to experience the joy of picking fresh, ripe, and sweet blueberries. These are NOT the berries you get in the plastic clamshells at the supermarket...these are wonderful.
When we first began picking the blueberries last week the first few that landed in the buckets made a distinct "plunk" sound. If you have ever read the children's book "Blueberries for Sal" you know that the "kerplink, kerplank, kerplunk" sound is part of the story. We were happy to discover that blueberries do in fact make this sound.
So last week turned into "puttin' up" week. "Puttin' Up" is what my mom used to say about preparing any food for long-term storage. When I was young we put up corn, peas, green beans, strawberries, peaches, and applesauce. Lord did we put up applesauce. Gallons of the stuff.
After making a blueberry/lemon bread (deeeee-lishious!), and a blueberry/apple pie (with apples from my own tree), and after T1, T2 and I snacked on these things till we were blue in the face, I got really resourceful and decided to freeze the remaining blueberries.
I also have June apples of my very own for the first time since I planted my four apple trees five or six years ago. I have already made and frozen enough applesauce to satisfy even MY cravings for it, and we still have way more apples than I can use, so I'm trying to think creatively.
Which brings me to a roundabout way to my point. My children are seeing first hand the source of some of their foods. They actually picked the blueberries with me, and helped wash them. I've been sending them out to our apple trees with a bucket to pick apples, and teaching them how to tell the ripe ones from the not-ready-yet ones. They are watching and learning as I bake with these things and store them for future use. They are also watching The Reenactor grow the pickling cucumbers for his not-ready-for-a-blue-ribbon (yet) pickles. And they've helped him can those as well. What used to be a fact of life for most families (spending summers preserving fresh foods for winter) is becoming a rare pasttime. Yet it is so rewarding. I felt so peaceful in that blueberry patch...picking, listening to my children talk, and tasting fresh sweet berries. Here's my point, if we could find ways to re-introduce more children to the process of growing food, they might have a greater appreciation for what they consume, and the precious resource we have in agriculture. Blueberries don't grow on grocery store shelves, they grow on bushes. If it freezes too late in the spring--no blueberries. If the birds get to them first---you are left with quite literally the leftovers. Growing fresh foods doesn't just happen...it takes time, patience, and the blessings of the right amount of sunshine and rain. But once you see and taste the difference they bring to your kitchen, you are hooked.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
A story by my niece
With apologies to Sgt@Arms for not getting her permission to reprint this first, I was looking for a way to recognize my mother's birthday today and found this in my closet o'family history. It is really a nice memory of a lovely day. It won't mean much to any of you outside our family, but for the rest of us, enjoy!
*********
July 5, 1993
by Jenny
It was one of those perfect sunny summer days when everything just falls into place.
The leafy green breeze gently blew our scattered family in for a perfect landing around the Matriarch’s patriotic dinner table.
Lunch at one o’clock.
Eleven place settings in red, white and blue.
Tiny flags and Queen Anne’s lace in a vase in the middle.
Steam rising off platters and piles of Grandma food: Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn on the cob, home-made bread, lemonade.
“These green beans were still on the vine this time yesterday,” and the last bowl was placed and we sat.
Heads bowed, mouths dripping, we joined hands and waited for a blessing.
Papaw looked around at his children and theirs for a long moment...and began...
“Very seldom are all of my children and grandchildren all around the same table at once.
This means a lot to your mother and I -- we really appreciate it.
I think today we’ll just have a silent prayer.”
The breathless silence that followed almost stopped my beating heart.
We were all very grateful indeed when he uttered “Amen.”
Such a feast, such a feast! Feast Feast Feast Feast!
We dined and we drank and the sisters all giggled,
We feverishly swallowed and sipped.
We chewed and we talked and reloaded our plates
While Grandma told the same story twice.
Then she looked out over her half-moon spectacles and picked the slowest eater
“Edward!” she said, “What do you need?”
“Nothing right now - I’m fine.”
“Do you need some more chicken? Coleslaw? Applesauce?”
“No thanks, Mom, I’m fine.”
“Pass this chicken down to Edward,” she decided. “Jennifer! What do you need? Green beans? Corn?”
“Doing alright down here, Grandma.”
“Pass these beans down to Jenny,” she said.
My arm twisted, I loaded more beans on my plate and forced them into my more than content stomach.
The meal went on, and on, bowls emptying one by one, plates slowly clearing.
I leaned back, belly up, in my creaking chair.
We were all so full our eyeballs were bulging when Grandma called, “Gooseberry pie?”
The rest of the day we were scattered about on couches and hammocks and rockers in the shade
Trying to get comfortable around our cross-eyed stomachs.
It wasn’t too hot, the green breeze sighed on, and we chatted and read and slept.
The kids set off fireworks when the sun was setting, all golden around the apple trees.
No one thought about supper, but instead a projector was brought down and dusted off.
And with a box of 8 millimeters and a crabby old screen, we sat hushed in the couch and the floor, we watched...
Aunt Alice, three years old, with two braids down her back, rode her tricycle up and down a sunny sidewalk, post WWII. Papaw swept her off her trike and into the air, and laughing, caught her again. Grandma appeared, young and embarrassed, and led little Alice inside.
More films were to be shown. Liz’s first birthday, Grandpa Ed at the post office, Robinette family reunions, Fourth of July - ‘51 - this was saved for last. We loaded it on, and it flickered and flipped. We taped it and tried it again and were taken to July 4th, fourty-two years past.
It was a lawn in Niangua, Missouri, decked out with Adirondack chairs and flags, in the sun.
Long dead, dearly missed old timers peered and waved at us from their yard, all smiley and lively and young.
They just waved and smiled, so happy on the Fourth.
A day for their family, for friends and food, and fireworks.
A day for our family too.
Forever,
Amen.
*July 4th fell on a Sunday in 1993, so the celebration was put off until the 5th so church activities wouldn’t be messed up.
*********
July 5, 1993
by Jenny
It was one of those perfect sunny summer days when everything just falls into place.
The leafy green breeze gently blew our scattered family in for a perfect landing around the Matriarch’s patriotic dinner table.
Lunch at one o’clock.
Eleven place settings in red, white and blue.
Tiny flags and Queen Anne’s lace in a vase in the middle.
Steam rising off platters and piles of Grandma food: Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn on the cob, home-made bread, lemonade.
“These green beans were still on the vine this time yesterday,” and the last bowl was placed and we sat.
Heads bowed, mouths dripping, we joined hands and waited for a blessing.
Papaw looked around at his children and theirs for a long moment...and began...
“Very seldom are all of my children and grandchildren all around the same table at once.
This means a lot to your mother and I -- we really appreciate it.
I think today we’ll just have a silent prayer.”
The breathless silence that followed almost stopped my beating heart.
We were all very grateful indeed when he uttered “Amen.”
Such a feast, such a feast! Feast Feast Feast Feast!
We dined and we drank and the sisters all giggled,
We feverishly swallowed and sipped.
We chewed and we talked and reloaded our plates
While Grandma told the same story twice.
Then she looked out over her half-moon spectacles and picked the slowest eater
“Edward!” she said, “What do you need?”
“Nothing right now - I’m fine.”
“Do you need some more chicken? Coleslaw? Applesauce?”
“No thanks, Mom, I’m fine.”
“Pass this chicken down to Edward,” she decided. “Jennifer! What do you need? Green beans? Corn?”
“Doing alright down here, Grandma.”
“Pass these beans down to Jenny,” she said.
My arm twisted, I loaded more beans on my plate and forced them into my more than content stomach.
The meal went on, and on, bowls emptying one by one, plates slowly clearing.
I leaned back, belly up, in my creaking chair.
We were all so full our eyeballs were bulging when Grandma called, “Gooseberry pie?”
The rest of the day we were scattered about on couches and hammocks and rockers in the shade
Trying to get comfortable around our cross-eyed stomachs.
It wasn’t too hot, the green breeze sighed on, and we chatted and read and slept.
The kids set off fireworks when the sun was setting, all golden around the apple trees.
No one thought about supper, but instead a projector was brought down and dusted off.
And with a box of 8 millimeters and a crabby old screen, we sat hushed in the couch and the floor, we watched...
Aunt Alice, three years old, with two braids down her back, rode her tricycle up and down a sunny sidewalk, post WWII. Papaw swept her off her trike and into the air, and laughing, caught her again. Grandma appeared, young and embarrassed, and led little Alice inside.
More films were to be shown. Liz’s first birthday, Grandpa Ed at the post office, Robinette family reunions, Fourth of July - ‘51 - this was saved for last. We loaded it on, and it flickered and flipped. We taped it and tried it again and were taken to July 4th, fourty-two years past.
It was a lawn in Niangua, Missouri, decked out with Adirondack chairs and flags, in the sun.
Long dead, dearly missed old timers peered and waved at us from their yard, all smiley and lively and young.
They just waved and smiled, so happy on the Fourth.
A day for their family, for friends and food, and fireworks.
A day for our family too.
Forever,
Amen.
*July 4th fell on a Sunday in 1993, so the celebration was put off until the 5th so church activities wouldn’t be messed up.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
What the 4th of July means to me
After watching the incredible series "John Adams" on HBO a few months ago I have a fresh perspective on what tomorrow means.
First of all, the background of the men who wrote the Declaration of Independence, and the drafts and work they put into writing it, (and later the Consitution and Bill of Rights), should be taught more thoroughly in schools. When you see the debates they had about our rights as citizens, and the reasons they had for the wording of those documents, it makes you appreciate all the more what a nearly perfect work it is. Like the Bible, the Declaration, Constitution and Bill of Rights are often misinterpreted, and equally often misquoted for self-promotion. The Founders were articulate, intelligent, thoughtful, religious men, and they risked not only their own lives, but the lives of their families by even meeting to write the Declaration. If you do nothing else this 4th, go online and read a copy.
Second, above all else, patriotism does NOT mean I have a flag pasted on the bumper of my car, or attached as a pin on my dress, or suit, or waving from my front porch. Patriotism is paying attention to what our politicians are doing as they represent us, and making sure they are held accountable for their actions. Patriotism is educating ourselves about the issues that affect us, and VOTING.
Third, there are still too many men and women dying and being horribly injured in a war we never should have been in to begin with. Peace will not come to that country as long as we remain as an armed force there. We need to leave. We are destroying our military with this war, and destroying lives of not only our soldiers, but of their families as well. And I'm not even including the innocent people we have hurt in Iraq.
Reading a recent story about the beginning of Bobby Kennedy's campaign I was amazed at how many of the speeches he gave referencing our involvement in the Vietnam War could be given now...just replace Vietnam with Iraq.
Next, on a lighter note, it ain't the 4th without a parade. I was lucky enough to grow up in a town with a great 4th of July traditional parade complete with marching bands playing Sousa marches, twirlers (yes, twirlers...do bands have twirlers any more?) politicians in convertables, kids on decorated bikes, people riding horses in all manner of finery (the people AND the horses) and the must-have of all rural community parades...the antique tractors. Post-parade there were stump speeches by local candidates, carnival rides, cotton candy and sno-cones, and the huge family reunion that was the essence of that day. Not our family...the community family I grew up with. Lately I don't see any familiar faces after the parade, which is really sad for me. There is a great bluegrass song called "Rank Stranger" -- about returning to your hometown after being away for a long, long time. The chorus is something like, "everybody I see seems to be a rank stranger" -- well, that is how the 4th in my hometown is for me now. BUT, I still get to watch my kids ride their decorated bikes in the parade, and that makes it worthwhile.
Happy Independence Day.
First of all, the background of the men who wrote the Declaration of Independence, and the drafts and work they put into writing it, (and later the Consitution and Bill of Rights), should be taught more thoroughly in schools. When you see the debates they had about our rights as citizens, and the reasons they had for the wording of those documents, it makes you appreciate all the more what a nearly perfect work it is. Like the Bible, the Declaration, Constitution and Bill of Rights are often misinterpreted, and equally often misquoted for self-promotion. The Founders were articulate, intelligent, thoughtful, religious men, and they risked not only their own lives, but the lives of their families by even meeting to write the Declaration. If you do nothing else this 4th, go online and read a copy.
Second, above all else, patriotism does NOT mean I have a flag pasted on the bumper of my car, or attached as a pin on my dress, or suit, or waving from my front porch. Patriotism is paying attention to what our politicians are doing as they represent us, and making sure they are held accountable for their actions. Patriotism is educating ourselves about the issues that affect us, and VOTING.
Third, there are still too many men and women dying and being horribly injured in a war we never should have been in to begin with. Peace will not come to that country as long as we remain as an armed force there. We need to leave. We are destroying our military with this war, and destroying lives of not only our soldiers, but of their families as well. And I'm not even including the innocent people we have hurt in Iraq.
Reading a recent story about the beginning of Bobby Kennedy's campaign I was amazed at how many of the speeches he gave referencing our involvement in the Vietnam War could be given now...just replace Vietnam with Iraq.
Next, on a lighter note, it ain't the 4th without a parade. I was lucky enough to grow up in a town with a great 4th of July traditional parade complete with marching bands playing Sousa marches, twirlers (yes, twirlers...do bands have twirlers any more?) politicians in convertables, kids on decorated bikes, people riding horses in all manner of finery (the people AND the horses) and the must-have of all rural community parades...the antique tractors. Post-parade there were stump speeches by local candidates, carnival rides, cotton candy and sno-cones, and the huge family reunion that was the essence of that day. Not our family...the community family I grew up with. Lately I don't see any familiar faces after the parade, which is really sad for me. There is a great bluegrass song called "Rank Stranger" -- about returning to your hometown after being away for a long, long time. The chorus is something like, "everybody I see seems to be a rank stranger" -- well, that is how the 4th in my hometown is for me now. BUT, I still get to watch my kids ride their decorated bikes in the parade, and that makes it worthwhile.
Happy Independence Day.
Monday, June 30, 2008
a dollar's worth of fun
It only takes $1 to delight small children. We had company over the weekend, and between the two young visitors (ages 5 and 8) and our own Thing 1 and Thing 2, we had a large time with a box of sparklers. It was fun that lasted for an hour...and nothing caught on fire (except the sparklers!)
Monday, June 23, 2008
Homage must be paid
It is County Fair time again! For those of you who remember the saga of last year's winning blue-ribbon biscuits, baked on a whim at the last minute, well, the tale gets better this year.
After last summer's second place showing in the dill pickle category, The Reenactor canned not one, but two jars of his pickles with the express intent of winning. Great attention was given to beauty of cucumbers, placement in jar, and cleanliness of lid (NO RUST, remember?) These jars, after canning, had a ribbon tied around them and were stored in the back of the pantry all year so as to not be confused with pickles we could actually eat, or give away. This morning was the day T1, T2 and I got to take the pickles to enter them. Surely this year the most beautiful (he picked his favorite) of the two jars would win. Anticipation ran high as even the little extension homemaker ladies who take the entries exclaimed at the perfection of the pickles in the jar. We all were convinced...especially after looking over the competition...that this year TR would definitely take home the blue.
Meanwhile, I had again made the same biscuit recipe from last year, and I threw in an entry of "perfect cornbread" (that's the name, folks) also from the same worn-out Oklahoma 4H cookbook I got the biscuit recipe from. And again, I had to stand in line behind a woman who had brought in a HUGE box of baked goods to enter...she had an entry in each category possible I think. And I pity the judges who had to actually sample some of that stuff...I swear even the kids were afraid of some of the cookies she was entering. Shall we say her "no-bake" cookies resembled dog poo even more than normal no-bake cookies do? Seriously, it was frightening.
Anyway...we returned tonight to see what won what. The Reeanctor is out of town on business so me and the kids were giddy with excitement over getting to call him with the news of his blue (or better) ribbon. We got there, and DAMN....those extension homemakers screwed him again! Another red ribbon! What gives? The winning jar (the "grand champion" of the pickles) was full of big stems of dill...that is what we have decided was the element that sends those women to the moon in the canning division.
So our attention was now turned to the baked goods. My "perfect" cornbread won a blue ribbon (as it should...it really was tasty!); and my biscuits? PURPLE GRAND CHAMPION!!! Whahooooooo!
HA!
I'm still laughing about this. I never considered myself a champion biscuit maker. Usually I crack open a can of Grands and call it a day.
One more thing...I entered something else for The Reenactor without his knowledge. He took a photo of T2 at the beach last summer that he thought was good from the moment he shot it. I think he had it as a screen saver for a while, and it IS a good photograph. I had it printed as an 8x10 and entered it, along with a photo I took of T1 in a wheat field just two weeks ago in the "fine arts" (HA!) division. Most of you know that both The Reenactor and I have been professional, or semi-professional photographers in our lives....well he can officially say he's a better photographer than I am now...his photo won a blue ribbon...mine a red.
Congrats, TR...it's a great shot. Now figure out how to can a decent jar of pickles!!!
After last summer's second place showing in the dill pickle category, The Reenactor canned not one, but two jars of his pickles with the express intent of winning. Great attention was given to beauty of cucumbers, placement in jar, and cleanliness of lid (NO RUST, remember?) These jars, after canning, had a ribbon tied around them and were stored in the back of the pantry all year so as to not be confused with pickles we could actually eat, or give away. This morning was the day T1, T2 and I got to take the pickles to enter them. Surely this year the most beautiful (he picked his favorite) of the two jars would win. Anticipation ran high as even the little extension homemaker ladies who take the entries exclaimed at the perfection of the pickles in the jar. We all were convinced...especially after looking over the competition...that this year TR would definitely take home the blue.
Meanwhile, I had again made the same biscuit recipe from last year, and I threw in an entry of "perfect cornbread" (that's the name, folks) also from the same worn-out Oklahoma 4H cookbook I got the biscuit recipe from. And again, I had to stand in line behind a woman who had brought in a HUGE box of baked goods to enter...she had an entry in each category possible I think. And I pity the judges who had to actually sample some of that stuff...I swear even the kids were afraid of some of the cookies she was entering. Shall we say her "no-bake" cookies resembled dog poo even more than normal no-bake cookies do? Seriously, it was frightening.
Anyway...we returned tonight to see what won what. The Reeanctor is out of town on business so me and the kids were giddy with excitement over getting to call him with the news of his blue (or better) ribbon. We got there, and DAMN....those extension homemakers screwed him again! Another red ribbon! What gives? The winning jar (the "grand champion" of the pickles) was full of big stems of dill...that is what we have decided was the element that sends those women to the moon in the canning division.
So our attention was now turned to the baked goods. My "perfect" cornbread won a blue ribbon (as it should...it really was tasty!); and my biscuits? PURPLE GRAND CHAMPION!!! Whahooooooo!
HA!
I'm still laughing about this. I never considered myself a champion biscuit maker. Usually I crack open a can of Grands and call it a day.
One more thing...I entered something else for The Reenactor without his knowledge. He took a photo of T2 at the beach last summer that he thought was good from the moment he shot it. I think he had it as a screen saver for a while, and it IS a good photograph. I had it printed as an 8x10 and entered it, along with a photo I took of T1 in a wheat field just two weeks ago in the "fine arts" (HA!) division. Most of you know that both The Reenactor and I have been professional, or semi-professional photographers in our lives....well he can officially say he's a better photographer than I am now...his photo won a blue ribbon...mine a red.
Congrats, TR...it's a great shot. Now figure out how to can a decent jar of pickles!!!
Sunday, June 15, 2008
church camp and other things that never change
I went to church camp two weeks ago! First time I've been to church camp in ...well shall we say...decades! Thing 1 was eligible for her first camp experience this year, but it was required that an adult accompany her for the two-day camp, so I got to go too!
Here's how things are the same, and different, since I was at Camp Yokomo all those zillion years ago.
First of all...tetherball. One of the first things I saw after we got out of the car was a tetherball court. I haven't played tetherball since I attended church camp, and don't think I've seen one of the courts since then either. I used to love tetherball, but quickly realized in trying to teach T1 what it was that you need to be tall enough to not get whacked in the face when your partner slaps that ball back at you.
Second...church camp is fundamentally the same as when I was a kid. We slept in "cabins" with poor ventilation (no cool breezes!) but with excellent ceiling fans that helped out quite a bit. The cabins still have that same funky camp "smell" to them....a mixture of lake water, sweat, sun lotion, hair spray (at least in the girls' cabins) and dirty tennis shoes. I loved it. The dining hall I swear was just like the one at Yokomo, and the requirement to sing for mail, still the same. Only difference was that the mail could come in the form of a printed email sent to the camper, rather than just a snail mail letter. T1 had to get mail twice...and both times chose the option of telling a joke, rather than singing a song, for her mail.
I don't know church camp songs any more. Maybe it was the camp director and her helpers, but I really didn't recognize the songs they were trying to sing, and apparently most of the other adults there didn't know them either. Lot's of quiet folks during song time.
S'mores--still a requirement, thank God.
Excitement can hit a fevered pitch over the sighting of a snake, or toads (both of when we had in abundance the first night) and of any other wild creatures. My daughter has no fear of toads...picked up every one she could get her hands on, while I would have not gotten near the things when I was her age.
Three...yes three...four-leaf clovers were found one morning during a scavenger hunt. Four-leaf clovers were on our list and my thought was "good luck with that" as I've never in my life found one, but two of the women in our group each found one within ten minutes of each other, then T1 found one later that morning. Her response, "I am a lucky duck."
Here's the biggest difference I noticed....I might well have been the only grown woman in attendance at this camp who was not sporting a tattoo. I was really and truly stunned at how many tattoos I saw on the other moms there. I still am not sure why anyone could commit to artwork on their body, when I have to move the art in my house around regularly because I get bored with it, but hey, it seems that I'm in the minority now. I'm not just talking single sightings...but some women had multiple tattoos in evidence...arms, legs, between their shoulders! I feel quite plain by contrast.
T1 had a great time, and I know she'll want to go back every year. I'm glad because I remember having mixed reviews about my church camp experience. Partly because I attended when I was junior high, and I was just uncomfortable with meeting new people, but I don't think my own child will be that way.
I'm glad I got to share this first year with her though.
Here's how things are the same, and different, since I was at Camp Yokomo all those zillion years ago.
First of all...tetherball. One of the first things I saw after we got out of the car was a tetherball court. I haven't played tetherball since I attended church camp, and don't think I've seen one of the courts since then either. I used to love tetherball, but quickly realized in trying to teach T1 what it was that you need to be tall enough to not get whacked in the face when your partner slaps that ball back at you.
Second...church camp is fundamentally the same as when I was a kid. We slept in "cabins" with poor ventilation (no cool breezes!) but with excellent ceiling fans that helped out quite a bit. The cabins still have that same funky camp "smell" to them....a mixture of lake water, sweat, sun lotion, hair spray (at least in the girls' cabins) and dirty tennis shoes. I loved it. The dining hall I swear was just like the one at Yokomo, and the requirement to sing for mail, still the same. Only difference was that the mail could come in the form of a printed email sent to the camper, rather than just a snail mail letter. T1 had to get mail twice...and both times chose the option of telling a joke, rather than singing a song, for her mail.
I don't know church camp songs any more. Maybe it was the camp director and her helpers, but I really didn't recognize the songs they were trying to sing, and apparently most of the other adults there didn't know them either. Lot's of quiet folks during song time.
S'mores--still a requirement, thank God.
Excitement can hit a fevered pitch over the sighting of a snake, or toads (both of when we had in abundance the first night) and of any other wild creatures. My daughter has no fear of toads...picked up every one she could get her hands on, while I would have not gotten near the things when I was her age.
Three...yes three...four-leaf clovers were found one morning during a scavenger hunt. Four-leaf clovers were on our list and my thought was "good luck with that" as I've never in my life found one, but two of the women in our group each found one within ten minutes of each other, then T1 found one later that morning. Her response, "I am a lucky duck."
Here's the biggest difference I noticed....I might well have been the only grown woman in attendance at this camp who was not sporting a tattoo. I was really and truly stunned at how many tattoos I saw on the other moms there. I still am not sure why anyone could commit to artwork on their body, when I have to move the art in my house around regularly because I get bored with it, but hey, it seems that I'm in the minority now. I'm not just talking single sightings...but some women had multiple tattoos in evidence...arms, legs, between their shoulders! I feel quite plain by contrast.
T1 had a great time, and I know she'll want to go back every year. I'm glad because I remember having mixed reviews about my church camp experience. Partly because I attended when I was junior high, and I was just uncomfortable with meeting new people, but I don't think my own child will be that way.
I'm glad I got to share this first year with her though.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
off the wire
I've been out the internet zone for a couple of weeks now, and won't be able to access my internet service regularly for a couple more days. My Mac had a bad power connection on it, and thankfully there is a company here town that can fix it. I had dreamy dreams of buying a new Mac, which I will ultimately still do, but this will hold me over until I can take more time to shop and backup all the info on my current Mac. Still, it is a hassle to not have that darn machine sitting on my desk, although I will confess that I AM doing a lot more things I probably wouldn't do because I'm so easily distracted by needing to look up stuff on the computer.
Anyway..hang in there..I'll be back up in a couple of days with tales of church camp, and North Carolina.
Anyway..hang in there..I'll be back up in a couple of days with tales of church camp, and North Carolina.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Good night, and good luck
After having watched this movie over the weekend, and seen the integrity and incredible journalism skills of the late Edward R. Murrow, it was especially painful for me today to have a conversation with a visitor to our town at this weekend's art and music festival.
I spent a lovely four hours at the festival on Sat. with my kids, enjoying the music, entertainment, and buying some art. One of the vendors there is a favorite artist of mine, and I bought a couple of prints from her. I got home last night and decided that one of the prints just wasn't working for me once I got it in the house, so I returned it today to exchange it for another one I had been considering.
While talking to the artist...a very, very nice woman...I asked her where she was from. New York, she said. I said, "oh you are the one they quoted in the newspaper." She looked aghast and said, "WHAT did they say about me? I've been hearing that I've been quoted in the newspaper all day."
What they said wasn't bad, in effect, it was that she wasn't selling much art, and that she needed to at least make enough money to cover her gasoline expenses to drive here from NY. I told her what the paper had said, and she told me that the "reporter" who interviewed her looked no more than 12 years old. We laughed about the fact that they probably sent a first-year summer intern to cover the story, but she was still bothered that this quote didn't really represent what she had told the reporter, and was concerned that she came across as negative about the festival.
Okay, so that can happen with lots of papers and tv reports...they take one thing you say out of five minutes of talking, and often it is the one thing that sounds the worst out of context. I completely understand that. But the fact that the story about the festival was accompanied by three photos, the biggest of which was of two out-of-focus people in the foreground, walking through the food vendor area, with a big "funnel cakes" sign in the background, represents the mentality that accompanies their editorial decisions.
Honestly, you morons, this is NOT what this festival is about. Could you at least have taken a photo of someone interacting with one of the artists, or looking at a painting? Could you not have photographed a child drawing in the chalk art area? No, it had to be about the damn funnel cakes.
Sigh.
I spent a lovely four hours at the festival on Sat. with my kids, enjoying the music, entertainment, and buying some art. One of the vendors there is a favorite artist of mine, and I bought a couple of prints from her. I got home last night and decided that one of the prints just wasn't working for me once I got it in the house, so I returned it today to exchange it for another one I had been considering.
While talking to the artist...a very, very nice woman...I asked her where she was from. New York, she said. I said, "oh you are the one they quoted in the newspaper." She looked aghast and said, "WHAT did they say about me? I've been hearing that I've been quoted in the newspaper all day."
What they said wasn't bad, in effect, it was that she wasn't selling much art, and that she needed to at least make enough money to cover her gasoline expenses to drive here from NY. I told her what the paper had said, and she told me that the "reporter" who interviewed her looked no more than 12 years old. We laughed about the fact that they probably sent a first-year summer intern to cover the story, but she was still bothered that this quote didn't really represent what she had told the reporter, and was concerned that she came across as negative about the festival.
Okay, so that can happen with lots of papers and tv reports...they take one thing you say out of five minutes of talking, and often it is the one thing that sounds the worst out of context. I completely understand that. But the fact that the story about the festival was accompanied by three photos, the biggest of which was of two out-of-focus people in the foreground, walking through the food vendor area, with a big "funnel cakes" sign in the background, represents the mentality that accompanies their editorial decisions.
Honestly, you morons, this is NOT what this festival is about. Could you at least have taken a photo of someone interacting with one of the artists, or looking at a painting? Could you not have photographed a child drawing in the chalk art area? No, it had to be about the damn funnel cakes.
Sigh.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
I hate my local newspaper
Hate is a strong word, I know, but when the editors of my local newspaper print an editorial once again lashing out at anyone who believes that global warming is a threat to our planet and the future for our children, then I find that I pretty much hate anyone who writes such an obscenity.
I am so frustrated to live in a community represented by media who a) can't spell or use proper grammar in their writing; and b) publish this sort of incredible garbage.
"The Moon," as a friend has aptly named it, claims that the average family income will actually drop by "$1,494 by 2016; and our annual energy bill would increase by $938 by 2030" if some of the proposed current climate change legislation is passed. Guess what, you idiots, our energy bill will probably increase by that much in the next two years, not all the way out at 2030, if oil prices continue to increase. Know what else? Our household income will decrease accordingly as long as the bonehead conservatives you are all so chummy with continue to allow both oil companies and healthcare lobbyists run this country.
I'm spittin' mad. Once again...what the HELL is wrong with trying to make our planet healthier and safer for future generations? What the hell is wrong with acknowledging that SOMETHING (okay, DON'T believe it's manmade if you want) is making this planet warmer, and our lives and existence as we know it are going to change? If that means trying to at least help the situation by being more friendly to our natural resources, what the hell is wrong with that?
The sources The Moon quotes in this editorial are all extreme conservative think tanks...there is no doubt as to where their loyalties are. Of course there never has been. They recently refused to cover a fantastic volunteer-organized recycling event that was HUGE. Apparently it wasn't a big enough story for them, even though hundreds of people in this town were involved, or brought in recycling. No, those all must have been wacko liberal hippie freaks trying to feel good about their excess elite micro-brew beer bottles and green tea plastic bottles...they are just the fringe element of our community.
This "newspaper" --and I use that term with great reservation -- is an embarrassment to themselves, and to the community they represent.
I'm so damn happy to be able to go vote today.
I am so frustrated to live in a community represented by media who a) can't spell or use proper grammar in their writing; and b) publish this sort of incredible garbage.
"The Moon," as a friend has aptly named it, claims that the average family income will actually drop by "$1,494 by 2016; and our annual energy bill would increase by $938 by 2030" if some of the proposed current climate change legislation is passed. Guess what, you idiots, our energy bill will probably increase by that much in the next two years, not all the way out at 2030, if oil prices continue to increase. Know what else? Our household income will decrease accordingly as long as the bonehead conservatives you are all so chummy with continue to allow both oil companies and healthcare lobbyists run this country.
I'm spittin' mad. Once again...what the HELL is wrong with trying to make our planet healthier and safer for future generations? What the hell is wrong with acknowledging that SOMETHING (okay, DON'T believe it's manmade if you want) is making this planet warmer, and our lives and existence as we know it are going to change? If that means trying to at least help the situation by being more friendly to our natural resources, what the hell is wrong with that?
The sources The Moon quotes in this editorial are all extreme conservative think tanks...there is no doubt as to where their loyalties are. Of course there never has been. They recently refused to cover a fantastic volunteer-organized recycling event that was HUGE. Apparently it wasn't a big enough story for them, even though hundreds of people in this town were involved, or brought in recycling. No, those all must have been wacko liberal hippie freaks trying to feel good about their excess elite micro-brew beer bottles and green tea plastic bottles...they are just the fringe element of our community.
This "newspaper" --and I use that term with great reservation -- is an embarrassment to themselves, and to the community they represent.
I'm so damn happy to be able to go vote today.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Robo-calls amuse me
Well people, it seems that I got my wish after all. My Super Tuesday frustration (see entry from Feb. 10) that my vote wouldn't ultimately play any part in the selection of the Democratic nominee appears moot. Even though things seem to be favoring Obama, I still get to actually vote and feel like I'm making a statement. Hooray! I'm part of the process!
"Billary" have been in the Commonwealth in recent days, including a stop he made yesterday in my own town, and just by driving around town I would say there is definitely a more distinct presence of her signs than Obama's. I'm not sure if this is a true indication of how people will vote....but it appears from the polling I've seen that O isn't expecting to win this state. STILL...I get my two cents in, and that makes me happy.
The robo-calls have begun in earnest. We probably had a dozen today, including one from Bill himself asking that I vote for his wife. I hung up on him.
I just wonder how many people out there actually LISTEN to these calls and make a decision on who they will vote for based on an automated, recorded message?
Probably the same people who voted recently in WV who flat-out told national reporters that they didn't vote for Obama because a) he's a Muslim; and b) the two races just don't get along (I swear!).
"Billary" have been in the Commonwealth in recent days, including a stop he made yesterday in my own town, and just by driving around town I would say there is definitely a more distinct presence of her signs than Obama's. I'm not sure if this is a true indication of how people will vote....but it appears from the polling I've seen that O isn't expecting to win this state. STILL...I get my two cents in, and that makes me happy.
The robo-calls have begun in earnest. We probably had a dozen today, including one from Bill himself asking that I vote for his wife. I hung up on him.
I just wonder how many people out there actually LISTEN to these calls and make a decision on who they will vote for based on an automated, recorded message?
Probably the same people who voted recently in WV who flat-out told national reporters that they didn't vote for Obama because a) he's a Muslim; and b) the two races just don't get along (I swear!).
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
In Memory of Effie
A woman who was part of my "village" as I was growing up has died. Her name was Effie Eyler, and she was one of those dozens of people who had an impact on me (and my brother and sisters) as I are growing up.
Effie was a Sunday School teacher at the church my family attended, and even though I can't remember any specific lesson she taught me, I do remember that I had fun in her class. She had a great laugh, and a positive attitude, and you always looked forward to going to any event she was going to be attending.
Effie was the person at church dinners and Vacation Bible School who gave you a hug and fussed over you like she hadn't seen you in years, instead of just the day before.
She was also the person who gave me a 10" iron skillet for a wedding present and told me that there were two successful ways to use a skillet like that...one was to fry fish; the other was to keep my husband in line. In addition, she gave me a fundraiser-type cookbook from an Oklahoma 4-H group that is quite literally falling apart now, but has some of the best recipes I've ever tried in it.
Effie and her husband Ralph were among the folks who often shared a meal of a fresh "mess" of fish with their friends, along with slaw, fried potatoes and cold iced tea. They were also part of the group of church "family" who came to our house for ice cream socials; and were present at many, many events in my young life.
Effie's not with us anymore, but here's to all the women who have her ability to make a positive impression on the children they meet in their lives.
Effie was a Sunday School teacher at the church my family attended, and even though I can't remember any specific lesson she taught me, I do remember that I had fun in her class. She had a great laugh, and a positive attitude, and you always looked forward to going to any event she was going to be attending.
Effie was the person at church dinners and Vacation Bible School who gave you a hug and fussed over you like she hadn't seen you in years, instead of just the day before.
She was also the person who gave me a 10" iron skillet for a wedding present and told me that there were two successful ways to use a skillet like that...one was to fry fish; the other was to keep my husband in line. In addition, she gave me a fundraiser-type cookbook from an Oklahoma 4-H group that is quite literally falling apart now, but has some of the best recipes I've ever tried in it.
Effie and her husband Ralph were among the folks who often shared a meal of a fresh "mess" of fish with their friends, along with slaw, fried potatoes and cold iced tea. They were also part of the group of church "family" who came to our house for ice cream socials; and were present at many, many events in my young life.
Effie's not with us anymore, but here's to all the women who have her ability to make a positive impression on the children they meet in their lives.
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