So it's about time I write about something that has been on my mind for the past decade. My unilateral edema. There's some medical mumbo-jumbo for you! Or as my sister so lovingly called it, my "fat foot."
This one time, at Band Camp...I noticed my left ankle was swollen. I thought to myself: did I turn my ankle on the field? No. I would have felt that. I didn't fall on the stairs. Wrench it while climbing into my bunk. None of the usual explanations. I do what any 17 year old would do...I notify the nearest adult who is supposed to take care of us young folk. All they could do was shrug, and suggest I had been stung by something. Well, I got stung by a bee on my toe once, and yeah, I would have remembered being stung on my ankle.
All through football season, I wrapped the ankle, limped, elevated it when possible, and asked occasionally if I could get some medical attention. Never happened. It was just something I would have to live with.
On a side note...no teenager should be told that. Yes, they should learn that life can be unfair, but to give up? To stop looking for a solution? Never.
The wrapping and poor marching continued into college. Despite being on my parents' health insurance, I decided to take matters into my own hands and show my now swollen ankle, foot AND calf to a university doctor. "Wow, that's weird," he said. I got an MRI that gave me the diagnosis: posterior tibiofibular tendonosis. Not tendonitis. The tendon that runs down the back of my calf and into the arch of my foot had been overstretched like an old rubber band. This could cause swelling. Eureka!
Phase one of physical therapy. Exercises are always good. I think my feet got stronger. But the swelling continued. And I paid a lot of money. And wore stockings that only grandparents should wear.
Next, unfortunate attention paid to my medical mystery while in Canada. I just didn't want to be noticed...not for that. I got sick of explaining it en francais.
Fast forward to modern times. Back to the family doctor, who suggests swimming, a good no-impact workout. Ok. A few more years, and grandma thinks there's something wrong with me. Duh? New doctor. New guess. Ultrasound. No clot. New doctor. New guess. MRI? Nope. Insurance doesn't like that idea. I haven't been prescribed enough medication. Though I am wondering if an anti-inflammatory would help...
The MRI would look at my lumbar spine and pelvis, searching for blockage of lymph vessels, veins, what-have-you. Not tendonosis. Methinks that the tendon stretched after the initial swelling limited my range of motion and altered my gait. Doctor agrees. But then what could it be? All sorts of things, according to the internet, including a few auto-immune diseases that I would rather not have. Cue House references?
My arch still hurts occasionally, and I get massage therapy and reflexology occasionally that seem to help in a miniscule way. But shoes still fit differently, and I still get anxious when I wear skirts. Which sucks because I love wearing skirts.
28 August 2010
26 August 2010
tornado
I had another tornado dream yesterday...right before I woke up. It happened on the farm, as they always do, and this time my sisters and I were out on the hill when I saw the funnel cloud form. We ran back to the house, where there were a whole lot of strange people, and I had trouble convincing everyone (as usual) to go down to the basement. Funny enough, after the storm, there was still a large uprooted tree floating around in slow motion. The trunk tapped against the front door, just as I peered out of it. Talk about weird.
There are a lot of weird things going on that I feel I have no control over...which is one interpretation of tornadoes in dreams I believe.
The most benign is of course my lack of organization around the house. It sure looks like a tornado hit. More importantly, I'm about to be unemployed again. In a way, though, it will be a relief, because my job has caused me a lot of extra stressing over my own inabilities to affect change. I wanted to do some good for that institution that gave me my first job. Sort of like returning the favor. But it's in this downward spiral that I don't think any one girl, no matter how smart or educated, could unwind. It will take a village, literally, to save the museum. Sadly, half the villagers either don't know or don't care.
I know I need to be more regimented. Especially with editing the thesis. It started out as the Sword of Damocles hanging over my head. Now its more like the ICBM of Damocles. What is stopping me? I don't think I can even answer that now. I was thinking about New York, as I usually do, and it seemed so far away...so unreal. Did I ever really live there?
The application for my teaching license renewal asked "Have you lived in Ohio continuously for the past five years?" Technically, no. But on paper, yes. I never became a permanent resident of New York. With one little flick of my pen, I sort of erased those two years in the Big Apple. Like it never really happened. I want so badly to go back, if only to visit. But it's been a year, and I'm afraid there won't be a place there for me. I have to remember: people are friends in spots. And my spot is gone.
I'll keep sending out emails and resumes and applications. But will it ever get me anywhere? I have no control over that. Sure, I control what I write to potential employers. But I can't control my competitors...all of the millions of them. Some pad their resumes. Some "know" people. I feel unprepared and ill-equipped to make it in this "job market."
Maybe I'm too naive. Too idealist.
And I have no control over my "manfriend" leaving for Cleveland. Maybe it would have been a shorter blog entry to list the things I can control, like the color of my toenails, for example.
There are a lot of weird things going on that I feel I have no control over...which is one interpretation of tornadoes in dreams I believe.
The most benign is of course my lack of organization around the house. It sure looks like a tornado hit. More importantly, I'm about to be unemployed again. In a way, though, it will be a relief, because my job has caused me a lot of extra stressing over my own inabilities to affect change. I wanted to do some good for that institution that gave me my first job. Sort of like returning the favor. But it's in this downward spiral that I don't think any one girl, no matter how smart or educated, could unwind. It will take a village, literally, to save the museum. Sadly, half the villagers either don't know or don't care.
I know I need to be more regimented. Especially with editing the thesis. It started out as the Sword of Damocles hanging over my head. Now its more like the ICBM of Damocles. What is stopping me? I don't think I can even answer that now. I was thinking about New York, as I usually do, and it seemed so far away...so unreal. Did I ever really live there?
The application for my teaching license renewal asked "Have you lived in Ohio continuously for the past five years?" Technically, no. But on paper, yes. I never became a permanent resident of New York. With one little flick of my pen, I sort of erased those two years in the Big Apple. Like it never really happened. I want so badly to go back, if only to visit. But it's been a year, and I'm afraid there won't be a place there for me. I have to remember: people are friends in spots. And my spot is gone.
I'll keep sending out emails and resumes and applications. But will it ever get me anywhere? I have no control over that. Sure, I control what I write to potential employers. But I can't control my competitors...all of the millions of them. Some pad their resumes. Some "know" people. I feel unprepared and ill-equipped to make it in this "job market."
Maybe I'm too naive. Too idealist.
And I have no control over my "manfriend" leaving for Cleveland. Maybe it would have been a shorter blog entry to list the things I can control, like the color of my toenails, for example.
23 August 2010
Epic Pickle Fail
So...a number of contributing factors could be responsible for the failure of my grand pickle experiment. I had the right 2 gallon crock. I had Grandma's instructions. I had a boat load of cucumbers. However, it appears that the brine either evaporated or leeched through the bottom of the crock to such an extent that the top slices were exposed. Hence icky mold and flies all over! Also, my efforts to sanitize the crock and the pickles (I had to separate the good ones from some white fuzzy ones...) might have backfired.
I was decidedly deterred when I discovered the moldy cucumber slices. However, I do have some cucumbers left, clean and fuzz-free, so I am now encouraged to make a second, edited attempt. Instead of the crock, I'll start right away with sealed jars to prevent brine loss. And these jars will be washed and rinsed thoroughly with vinegar to kill anything that might feast on the cucumber. The challenge will be adjusting the spices from Grandma's 2-gallon recipe.
Financially...that's still around a $20 loss. Much worse than the spilled $1 coke in the car. But I'll keep trying to reincarnate this family tradition.
I was decidedly deterred when I discovered the moldy cucumber slices. However, I do have some cucumbers left, clean and fuzz-free, so I am now encouraged to make a second, edited attempt. Instead of the crock, I'll start right away with sealed jars to prevent brine loss. And these jars will be washed and rinsed thoroughly with vinegar to kill anything that might feast on the cucumber. The challenge will be adjusting the spices from Grandma's 2-gallon recipe.
Financially...that's still around a $20 loss. Much worse than the spilled $1 coke in the car. But I'll keep trying to reincarnate this family tradition.
17 August 2010
bird watch
I just have to record a few bird encounters for posterity.
1. Ducks on the neighbor's farm...these little guys waddle all over the place, including the road. One duck in particular blends in with the weeds along the road. Luckily, I didn't hit him, but he sure startled me.
2. A blue heron...always used to stop by our pond for tadpoles and other goodies. This time he was posing just off the pavement as I rounded a bend. No water in site. Maybe he was having a breather before flying to the next pond?
3. A hawk with balls...saw some roadkill up ahead with the typical crowd of vultures. The big guys all scrambled to fly away, but not Mr. Hawk. Or Ms. Hawk, I guess. It stood its ground, clenching some animal parts in its talons, as if to say "Drive around me, bitch, cuz I ain't givin' this up."
All have fared better, I hope, than that poor peregrine on the Columbus skyscraper.
1. Ducks on the neighbor's farm...these little guys waddle all over the place, including the road. One duck in particular blends in with the weeds along the road. Luckily, I didn't hit him, but he sure startled me.
2. A blue heron...always used to stop by our pond for tadpoles and other goodies. This time he was posing just off the pavement as I rounded a bend. No water in site. Maybe he was having a breather before flying to the next pond?
3. A hawk with balls...saw some roadkill up ahead with the typical crowd of vultures. The big guys all scrambled to fly away, but not Mr. Hawk. Or Ms. Hawk, I guess. It stood its ground, clenching some animal parts in its talons, as if to say "Drive around me, bitch, cuz I ain't givin' this up."
All have fared better, I hope, than that poor peregrine on the Columbus skyscraper.
12 August 2010
oh, intolerance
I should have known from the moment I chose to write about Ground Zero, it would follow me to the end of my days. There is always something to report and debate, it seems, involving that hallowed piece of Manhattan real estate. The problem is one that is ever present in a dense urban space like New York City: proximity. To honor the victims, must we purge every little thing that is not sacred from Lower Manhattan? From the whole Island? What exactly is and isn't appropriate to be near the site? Century 21? Burlington Coat Factory? That is what I want to ask people who oppose the development of a Muslim community center on Park Street, two blocks from Ground Zero.
Our national reaction to 9/11 was unifying, yet it was not monolithic. And I use monolithic instead of homogeneous in honor of my preoccupation with monuments. We bombed Afghanistan, yet politicians agreed that to beat the terrorists we would also have to win hearts and minds of moderate Muslims at home and abroad. Two very different methods. And as Fareed Zakaria wrote in Newsweek, the tenuous American relationship with moderate Islam could only be strengthened by the presence of a community center such as the ill-labeled "Ground Zero Mosque." It would be a celebration not of tragedy but of resilience. A manifestation of our constitutional protection of religious freedom and equality.
Here are my problems with the opposition:
1. Stop calling it the "Ground Zero Mosque"! It's not at Ground Zero. There is a specific, bounded section of Lower Manhattan that retains the sanctity and dignity of the Memorial, and then there is the rest of the city. It is not at the "epicenter" of 9/11. For in my thesis, I argue that 9/11 had no epicenter, since it involves the Pentagon and Pennsylvania countryside. Yes, plane debris and quite possibly human remains fell on the site at 45 Park, just like it fell on the entire area surrounding the World Trade Center. This hasn't stopped the development of other buildings for fear of insensitivity.
2. It's not just a mosque. It's a place for the American Muslims who are already in the city to congregate, along with anyone else who isn't a bigot. They own the building. They can do what they will with the building. The worship space is an improvement on the existent, cramped mosque not too far away from Ground Zero. Maybe those who are offended by its proximity should reflect on their own prejudice against an entire religion, while they have no problem with WTC souvenirs and tourism and corporations covering the area like ants at a picnic.
3. I searched for evidence that mosques are built as signs of victory. And I found no scholarly sources. Just conservative and alarmist blogs and articles. Listening to Rush Limbaugh is not research, people. One article even erroneously suggests that the al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem was built to celebrate the destruction of the Temple. Oops. Romans destroyed the second Temple in 70 CE (That's AD for any non-academics). The mosque and the Dome of the Rock (built in the 7th Century CE) which now stand atop this sacred mount are not signs of victory over Judaism or Christianity, but examples of our commonalities. The place is sacred to us all. That's why they built on top of it during a period of Muslim conversion and rule. BTW, before the Crusades, Jerusalem was a city where Muslims, Jews and Christians lived in relative harmony.
4. We all want to tread lightly when it comes to the feelings of 9/11 victims' families. This is one reason why the rebuilding at Ground Zero has been so slow (apart from contracts and litigation). Yet these people should not be paraded (literally and figuratively) by opponents and politicians to shame anyone who supports the center. In fact, there are families who support it themselves. They want peace and closure. Understanding. They want to rise above the hate that drove the terrorists to kill their loved ones. How dare anyone try to make me or other supporters feel guilty? It's a desperate, personal attack that smacks of malicious zeal.
5. Seeing articles and blogs and facebook polls plastered with the face of Osama bin Laden just make me sick to my stomach. And I'm not even Muslim. Like I commented on a cousin's post, it's just plain slander. Not all Muslims are bin Ladens. How much do you want to bet that Osama would oppose the mosque due to its interfaith, inclusive nature? I'd bet my life savings. We should do the homework and make sure the funding has no ties to al-Qaeda. Yet the pictures go too far.
6. Remember our American values? Equality? Freedom? You're treating Muslims like criminals and second-class citizens. Regardless of your religious affiliation, you should respect the rights of others to deal with the tragedy of 9/11 and the rebirth of Lower Manhattan in their own way. The mosque is not illegal, as much as you hope it is. Our constitution does not support prejudice, though we have failed in the past. We have persecuted Jews, Catholics, Communists, Irish, Germans in the 18th century and in the 20th. When will we ever learn? (I have deliberately omitted slavery, here, for that is an issue all its own)
Anyone who reads this and feels like repeating the Fox News talking points, stop and think, please. Do some real research. There is no more a Muslim agenda than there is a gay agenda. Our culture can take it. We can all be friends two blocks away from one of the most sacred spots in America. Turn off Limbaugh and read some history. Shake hands with a Muslim neighbor (if you can find one...they might be scared of you) and learn a little about cultural exhange. Prove that you are wise enough to distinguish a radical terrorist from the family down the street.
The National September 11th Memorial and Museum are dedicated to the memory of those who died and the end of the cycle of hate. Don't help Sarah Palin, Limbaugh & Co. perpetuate the hate. Please.
Our national reaction to 9/11 was unifying, yet it was not monolithic. And I use monolithic instead of homogeneous in honor of my preoccupation with monuments. We bombed Afghanistan, yet politicians agreed that to beat the terrorists we would also have to win hearts and minds of moderate Muslims at home and abroad. Two very different methods. And as Fareed Zakaria wrote in Newsweek, the tenuous American relationship with moderate Islam could only be strengthened by the presence of a community center such as the ill-labeled "Ground Zero Mosque." It would be a celebration not of tragedy but of resilience. A manifestation of our constitutional protection of religious freedom and equality.
Here are my problems with the opposition:
1. Stop calling it the "Ground Zero Mosque"! It's not at Ground Zero. There is a specific, bounded section of Lower Manhattan that retains the sanctity and dignity of the Memorial, and then there is the rest of the city. It is not at the "epicenter" of 9/11. For in my thesis, I argue that 9/11 had no epicenter, since it involves the Pentagon and Pennsylvania countryside. Yes, plane debris and quite possibly human remains fell on the site at 45 Park, just like it fell on the entire area surrounding the World Trade Center. This hasn't stopped the development of other buildings for fear of insensitivity.
2. It's not just a mosque. It's a place for the American Muslims who are already in the city to congregate, along with anyone else who isn't a bigot. They own the building. They can do what they will with the building. The worship space is an improvement on the existent, cramped mosque not too far away from Ground Zero. Maybe those who are offended by its proximity should reflect on their own prejudice against an entire religion, while they have no problem with WTC souvenirs and tourism and corporations covering the area like ants at a picnic.
3. I searched for evidence that mosques are built as signs of victory. And I found no scholarly sources. Just conservative and alarmist blogs and articles. Listening to Rush Limbaugh is not research, people. One article even erroneously suggests that the al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem was built to celebrate the destruction of the Temple. Oops. Romans destroyed the second Temple in 70 CE (That's AD for any non-academics). The mosque and the Dome of the Rock (built in the 7th Century CE) which now stand atop this sacred mount are not signs of victory over Judaism or Christianity, but examples of our commonalities. The place is sacred to us all. That's why they built on top of it during a period of Muslim conversion and rule. BTW, before the Crusades, Jerusalem was a city where Muslims, Jews and Christians lived in relative harmony.
4. We all want to tread lightly when it comes to the feelings of 9/11 victims' families. This is one reason why the rebuilding at Ground Zero has been so slow (apart from contracts and litigation). Yet these people should not be paraded (literally and figuratively) by opponents and politicians to shame anyone who supports the center. In fact, there are families who support it themselves. They want peace and closure. Understanding. They want to rise above the hate that drove the terrorists to kill their loved ones. How dare anyone try to make me or other supporters feel guilty? It's a desperate, personal attack that smacks of malicious zeal.
5. Seeing articles and blogs and facebook polls plastered with the face of Osama bin Laden just make me sick to my stomach. And I'm not even Muslim. Like I commented on a cousin's post, it's just plain slander. Not all Muslims are bin Ladens. How much do you want to bet that Osama would oppose the mosque due to its interfaith, inclusive nature? I'd bet my life savings. We should do the homework and make sure the funding has no ties to al-Qaeda. Yet the pictures go too far.
6. Remember our American values? Equality? Freedom? You're treating Muslims like criminals and second-class citizens. Regardless of your religious affiliation, you should respect the rights of others to deal with the tragedy of 9/11 and the rebirth of Lower Manhattan in their own way. The mosque is not illegal, as much as you hope it is. Our constitution does not support prejudice, though we have failed in the past. We have persecuted Jews, Catholics, Communists, Irish, Germans in the 18th century and in the 20th. When will we ever learn? (I have deliberately omitted slavery, here, for that is an issue all its own)
Anyone who reads this and feels like repeating the Fox News talking points, stop and think, please. Do some real research. There is no more a Muslim agenda than there is a gay agenda. Our culture can take it. We can all be friends two blocks away from one of the most sacred spots in America. Turn off Limbaugh and read some history. Shake hands with a Muslim neighbor (if you can find one...they might be scared of you) and learn a little about cultural exhange. Prove that you are wise enough to distinguish a radical terrorist from the family down the street.
The National September 11th Memorial and Museum are dedicated to the memory of those who died and the end of the cycle of hate. Don't help Sarah Palin, Limbaugh & Co. perpetuate the hate. Please.
09 August 2010
shoot! I forgot what I wanted to write...
So as an art educator/museum person am I really doing my job when the only people who come to my open-ended informal Q&A talks are family members? That's been bothering me all weekend.
Just how do I go about reaching the people who need to be reached? Step 1: work at a better institution. I've got a dozen applications floating around in the ether (at least that's how it feels when everything is electronic), and I'm unsure whether I should make follow-up calls. Rats.
Y-Bridge Festival was all right. I guess when you've got a funny-shaped bridge that you can partially close off without completely disrupting traffic, you have to stage an arts festival there. I bought a really cool collage that reminds me of the architecture days. And now all I want to do is snip up old maps and magazines and make collages of my own. I did my best impression of a salesman at the booth...just trying to whip up some community support. And the band did play my favorite karaoke song: I Want You to Want Me.
I'm slowly digging out of my lack of organization. The room is almost liveable again. Now if I could only stop being so uncomfortable about the clothes in my closet (and on my floor), I might actually wake up in a good mood. I'm just not liking what I've got.
I have to see the movie Eat Pray Love. HSN would like to think that buying stuff over the telephone is equivalent to traversing the world, but I know they're wrong. Every time I see the trailer on television I want to get the heck out of Dodge and see something. Anything. I really have to wonder at this point...will I ever see the world? Or did I miss my opportunity, now that my twenties are drawing to a close? The sisters say they're happy right where they are. Good for them, but not for me. Right now I don't even like my closet.
Dad was watching Huckabee last night. One of the guests was talking about how God saved him from the "demon of murder," after he brutally murdered a woman in the 70s. Now he's free and preaching. Only one thing comes to mind when I see Huckabee. Theocracy. Why is it that the various Protestant sects that emerged out of the Reformation are just as tyrannical and corrupt as the Church they rejected?
Topic for next time, I think.
Just how do I go about reaching the people who need to be reached? Step 1: work at a better institution. I've got a dozen applications floating around in the ether (at least that's how it feels when everything is electronic), and I'm unsure whether I should make follow-up calls. Rats.
Y-Bridge Festival was all right. I guess when you've got a funny-shaped bridge that you can partially close off without completely disrupting traffic, you have to stage an arts festival there. I bought a really cool collage that reminds me of the architecture days. And now all I want to do is snip up old maps and magazines and make collages of my own. I did my best impression of a salesman at the booth...just trying to whip up some community support. And the band did play my favorite karaoke song: I Want You to Want Me.
I'm slowly digging out of my lack of organization. The room is almost liveable again. Now if I could only stop being so uncomfortable about the clothes in my closet (and on my floor), I might actually wake up in a good mood. I'm just not liking what I've got.
I have to see the movie Eat Pray Love. HSN would like to think that buying stuff over the telephone is equivalent to traversing the world, but I know they're wrong. Every time I see the trailer on television I want to get the heck out of Dodge and see something. Anything. I really have to wonder at this point...will I ever see the world? Or did I miss my opportunity, now that my twenties are drawing to a close? The sisters say they're happy right where they are. Good for them, but not for me. Right now I don't even like my closet.
Dad was watching Huckabee last night. One of the guests was talking about how God saved him from the "demon of murder," after he brutally murdered a woman in the 70s. Now he's free and preaching. Only one thing comes to mind when I see Huckabee. Theocracy. Why is it that the various Protestant sects that emerged out of the Reformation are just as tyrannical and corrupt as the Church they rejected?
Topic for next time, I think.
03 August 2010
happy birthday martha
Lately I've been trying some new ways to connect with the women that have had the greatest impact on my life.
Well, more than lately. I have to admit that getting involved with the sanctuary committee at church was about more than flexing my architectural historical muscles...it was also about feeling out the shoes left by my mother's absence. And of course I cannot fill them. No matter how many times I'm compared to her. But I did my little part despite the toxic political atmosphere.
My latest endeavor was sewing cloth school bags for a charity. Naturally, the sewing machine I found in the basement was less than useful, so I used my grandmother's machine. Which is a bonus because she tweaked the design and the directions a little bit to make it simpler. The stitches are rather crooked, with the occasional "whoa what happened" curves and snags, but the bags should hold. I realized a little too late that I made them Florida colors. But I don't think the bags are going to a part of the world where that will matter. It's a way to connect to Grandma without having to force anything. She knows all there is to know about needles and thread, and I don't. And because the project sends school bags and supplies to children who might not otherwise go to school, including young girls who just need an education to show them there's more to life than what poverty or class or race has given them, I think I am fulfilling that Phi Beta Kappa goal of spreading the importance of education.
The next project won't be charity, but it might be the most difficult. I'd like to try my other grandmother's pickle recipe. Finding cucumbers won't be a problem (though my window of opportunity will close soon), since there are so many farmers markets around here. The problem is pickling salt. Walmart has pre-seasoned pickling and canning mixes (Dill, Bread & Butter, etc.) that don't help me much. No surprise that Walmart is not helping. But I can't even find any at the grocery store. I'm stumped. And I'm not even sure I have enough jars.
In my spare time I've been daydreaming of my own place to call home. The stash of furniture and kitchen utensils and home décor I have in my father's basement has been taunting me...if only I had somewhere to put it and see it every day and live my life. Most of what I bought from Target last week was to decorate my hypothetical dream apartment. Those pillows will look so nice on my striped loveseat!
I do manage to stop myself from buying expensive pots and pans and knives. So far. I just can't wait. So there's my Martha Stewart ode for the day.
Well, more than lately. I have to admit that getting involved with the sanctuary committee at church was about more than flexing my architectural historical muscles...it was also about feeling out the shoes left by my mother's absence. And of course I cannot fill them. No matter how many times I'm compared to her. But I did my little part despite the toxic political atmosphere.
My latest endeavor was sewing cloth school bags for a charity. Naturally, the sewing machine I found in the basement was less than useful, so I used my grandmother's machine. Which is a bonus because she tweaked the design and the directions a little bit to make it simpler. The stitches are rather crooked, with the occasional "whoa what happened" curves and snags, but the bags should hold. I realized a little too late that I made them Florida colors. But I don't think the bags are going to a part of the world where that will matter. It's a way to connect to Grandma without having to force anything. She knows all there is to know about needles and thread, and I don't. And because the project sends school bags and supplies to children who might not otherwise go to school, including young girls who just need an education to show them there's more to life than what poverty or class or race has given them, I think I am fulfilling that Phi Beta Kappa goal of spreading the importance of education.
The next project won't be charity, but it might be the most difficult. I'd like to try my other grandmother's pickle recipe. Finding cucumbers won't be a problem (though my window of opportunity will close soon), since there are so many farmers markets around here. The problem is pickling salt. Walmart has pre-seasoned pickling and canning mixes (Dill, Bread & Butter, etc.) that don't help me much. No surprise that Walmart is not helping. But I can't even find any at the grocery store. I'm stumped. And I'm not even sure I have enough jars.
In my spare time I've been daydreaming of my own place to call home. The stash of furniture and kitchen utensils and home décor I have in my father's basement has been taunting me...if only I had somewhere to put it and see it every day and live my life. Most of what I bought from Target last week was to decorate my hypothetical dream apartment. Those pillows will look so nice on my striped loveseat!
I do manage to stop myself from buying expensive pots and pans and knives. So far. I just can't wait. So there's my Martha Stewart ode for the day.
02 August 2010
am i speaking swahili or are you just not listening?
Of course, it might be fun to speak Swahili. I just don't know anyone who understands it.
Every now and then I find an op-ed or an article that echoes what has been going through my mind: the hypocrisy of conservatives, the misguided morality of both conservatives and liberals, etc. But closer to home, it feels like I'm just some crazy Cassandra. My refuge is the New York Times, which is admittedly a liberal paper, but I still see myself as a centrist. Like Dan says, he's conservative in his heart but liberal in his head. And I find that telling...for sometimes it seems like to be conservative is to ignore the logical thoughts in your own brain.
I occasionally get my father's ear, and I remind him that the "us versus them" mentality gets nobody nowhere. And he nods. But then he continues to spout venom when it comes to animal rights activists and Muslims. It's a vicious cycle...hate breeds hate, fiscal irresponsibility breeds more irresponsibility. The latter is a reference to an article called the "Non-Profit Starvation Cycle" posted by a friend. It's a pdf, or else I'd link to it somehow. I'm just not feeling that html inclined today. Anyway. I think I'm feeling the words in that article all too well. This job I have is afterall about to expire due to a lack of compassion and fiscal know-how. What a sad situation we're in, us non-profit idealist art people, when our boards of trustees and executive directors cannot weather the recessional storm in a way that doesn't amputate all that is pure and good from the institution. I've never understood how it could be deemed smart to fire good people in order to keep a museum open. Those people are the museum!
But even as I type these words, I know they'll be misconstrued. I know that no one will read every little paragraph and get exactly what I'm thinking and feeling. That's the limit of language.
It's like commenting on someone's post without reading the article they have cited. That happens all the time...wall-posts are hijacked to get into some debate about what sort of non-profit (global or grassroots) better deserves support...something that is only indirectly related to the Starvation Cycle. Ugh. I got all mad about it and it wasn't even my wall!
I know there are just some people out there who will not see eye to eye with me. It scares me, though, that a good portion of those people are in charge and capable of rendering me and my generation unemployable.
Every now and then I find an op-ed or an article that echoes what has been going through my mind: the hypocrisy of conservatives, the misguided morality of both conservatives and liberals, etc. But closer to home, it feels like I'm just some crazy Cassandra. My refuge is the New York Times, which is admittedly a liberal paper, but I still see myself as a centrist. Like Dan says, he's conservative in his heart but liberal in his head. And I find that telling...for sometimes it seems like to be conservative is to ignore the logical thoughts in your own brain.
I occasionally get my father's ear, and I remind him that the "us versus them" mentality gets nobody nowhere. And he nods. But then he continues to spout venom when it comes to animal rights activists and Muslims. It's a vicious cycle...hate breeds hate, fiscal irresponsibility breeds more irresponsibility. The latter is a reference to an article called the "Non-Profit Starvation Cycle" posted by a friend. It's a pdf, or else I'd link to it somehow. I'm just not feeling that html inclined today. Anyway. I think I'm feeling the words in that article all too well. This job I have is afterall about to expire due to a lack of compassion and fiscal know-how. What a sad situation we're in, us non-profit idealist art people, when our boards of trustees and executive directors cannot weather the recessional storm in a way that doesn't amputate all that is pure and good from the institution. I've never understood how it could be deemed smart to fire good people in order to keep a museum open. Those people are the museum!
But even as I type these words, I know they'll be misconstrued. I know that no one will read every little paragraph and get exactly what I'm thinking and feeling. That's the limit of language.
It's like commenting on someone's post without reading the article they have cited. That happens all the time...wall-posts are hijacked to get into some debate about what sort of non-profit (global or grassroots) better deserves support...something that is only indirectly related to the Starvation Cycle. Ugh. I got all mad about it and it wasn't even my wall!
I know there are just some people out there who will not see eye to eye with me. It scares me, though, that a good portion of those people are in charge and capable of rendering me and my generation unemployable.
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