Rebecca Haarlow did not pick out Mike Dunleavy Sr's jacket/tie combination, although she did once best Mike Dunleavy Jr in a battle of wits. And in a pancake eating contest. And at "Bad Dudes."
Bonus: Rebecca Haarlow is a bad enough dude to save the president.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Sydney Makes Things Up About Rebecca Haarlow (3)
This one time, Rebecca Haarlow caught Sam Adams making out with a dude who had reached the age of consent and said, "That's okay Sam; I'll keep your secret cause that's just how I roll."
Friday, January 16, 2009
Semantics
Is it just me or has the whole world forgotten the actual meaning of the word "miracle"? I think it's great that all those people survived that plane crash in New York, but it wasn't a miracle. It was good planning, good training, a competent crew and plenty of good samaritans. The news media have to choose: either everything's a miracle and there's no point in training or safety regulations, or some things aren't miracles, they're just really good people doing their jobs really well. A real miracle is when a plane falls out of the air into a marshmallow factory and everyone on board is cushioned in a pillow of pure joy.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
I give up
I give up on making things up about Rebecca Haarlow. It turns out that it's a lot more fun in your living room when you can say negative or slanderous things and not worry about hurting anyone's feelings. But if I were a minor local sorta-celebrity, I would google myself daily and would feel bad reading about how I once got so mad even Allen Iverson told me to calm down. Or how I once had my stomach pumped because I ate an entire bulk bin of whole nutmegs. Or how my affair with Joel Przybilla ended because I wouldn't make him waffles after I beat him at Horse. Well, maybe I wouldn't feel bad. Maybe I'd just feel confused. Anyway, I can't bring myself to publish most of the probably-more-confusing-than-mean things I come up with, not even for laughs on a stupid blog probably only ten people have ever read. (Although the three I came up with just now are pretty good. And not at all mean.)
Monday, January 12, 2009
Nostradamus again
There are multiple History Channel programs about this guy. Here are two of my favorite Quatrains that HC interviewees say means something bit I think are just hilarious. First the French and then the English. You should look up what the internet has to say about the first one. Apparently it means Iran is going to blow up the Suez Canal, blocking the shipment of Australian biscuits (of the toaster variety?) to Europe. On the HC (in HD) they actually used the word "biscuit" (which means "cookie" in French) and called it the "Biscuit War Quatrain." Seriously: people get paid for this.
Century 2, Quatrain 3
Pour la chaleur solaire sus la mer,
De Negrepont les poissons demy cuits:
Les habitans viendront entamer,
Quand Rhod et Gannes leur faudra le biscuit.
Because of the solar heat on the sea
From Negrepont the fishes half cooked:
The inhabitants will come to cut them,
When food will fail in Rhodes and Genoa.
Century 5, Qutrain 98
A quarante huict degré climaterique,
A fin de Cancer si grande seicheresse:
Poisson en mer, fleuue: lac cuit hectique,
Bearn, Bigorre par feu ciel en detresse.
At the forty-eigth climacteric degree,
At the end of Cancer very great dryness:
Fish in sea, river, lake boiled hectic,
Béarn, Bigorre in distress through fire from the sky.
The second one is supposed to be about an atomic war that blows up SW France. Which is weird, because they also interpret the beginning to be about the 48th parallel, which south of Paris (right around the Freiburg Pete lived in, incedentally). My interpretation? Well, I do a lot of work in women's health topics. To me, "climacteric" means "menopause." Those first two lines, in my interpretation, predict a 48-year old woman in early menopause due to cancer treatment who is suffering vaginal dryness. Nostradamus suggests a folk remedy made by boiling fish from three different environments (probably to make a gelatin-like substance) and I think Béarn and Bigorre are a metaphore for the vagina. In his time, both had recently been independent kingdoms, but now one was part of France as the King's personal lands while the other remained outside the larger royaume. He's saying that just insideas well as just outside the southern "border" could use some fish salve.
I don't know, guys. I think this is an equally valid interpretation. Also, in C2Q24 (or however you're supposed to note these things; I don't really care that much), one that supposedly references Hitler, "Quand rien enfant de Germain observera" is translated as "When the German child will observe nothing," only "German" in French is "Allemand." "Germain" is not a French word; it's a French name.
(Oh my God - the morning news just presented someone's name like this: "Chelsea" and then underneath "Has Cellulite". Hahahaha!)
Century 2, Quatrain 3
Pour la chaleur solaire sus la mer,
De Negrepont les poissons demy cuits:
Les habitans viendront entamer,
Quand Rhod et Gannes leur faudra le biscuit.
Because of the solar heat on the sea
From Negrepont the fishes half cooked:
The inhabitants will come to cut them,
When food will fail in Rhodes and Genoa.
Century 5, Qutrain 98
A quarante huict degré climaterique,
A fin de Cancer si grande seicheresse:
Poisson en mer, fleuue: lac cuit hectique,
Bearn, Bigorre par feu ciel en detresse.
At the forty-eigth climacteric degree,
At the end of Cancer very great dryness:
Fish in sea, river, lake boiled hectic,
Béarn, Bigorre in distress through fire from the sky.
The second one is supposed to be about an atomic war that blows up SW France. Which is weird, because they also interpret the beginning to be about the 48th parallel, which south of Paris (right around the Freiburg Pete lived in, incedentally). My interpretation? Well, I do a lot of work in women's health topics. To me, "climacteric" means "menopause." Those first two lines, in my interpretation, predict a 48-year old woman in early menopause due to cancer treatment who is suffering vaginal dryness. Nostradamus suggests a folk remedy made by boiling fish from three different environments (probably to make a gelatin-like substance) and I think Béarn and Bigorre are a metaphore for the vagina. In his time, both had recently been independent kingdoms, but now one was part of France as the King's personal lands while the other remained outside the larger royaume. He's saying that just insideas well as just outside the southern "border" could use some fish salve.
I don't know, guys. I think this is an equally valid interpretation. Also, in C2Q24 (or however you're supposed to note these things; I don't really care that much), one that supposedly references Hitler, "Quand rien enfant de Germain observera" is translated as "When the German child will observe nothing," only "German" in French is "Allemand." "Germain" is not a French word; it's a French name.
(Oh my God - the morning news just presented someone's name like this: "Chelsea" and then underneath "Has Cellulite". Hahahaha!)
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Sydney Makes Things Up About Rebecca Haarlow (2)
Rebecca Haarlow enjoys the 2 DVD set "Lots & Lots of Trains."
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Mother's Bistro: In bed with the Salt Barons
We ate at Mother's tonight and I have to say, their food is slipping. The underlying flavors, combinations and presentation were all still great, but what is with all the salt? Roast chicken shouldn't taste alternately salty and bland. If I managed to get two or three "bland" bites in a row, my sense of taste returned and it was really delicious. But then I'd get a salty bite, zotz my tastebuds and taste nothing again. Additionally, their cauliflower cheese was pretty awful. I don't know what cheese they were using... It was white but it wasn't white cheddar, swiss, fontina, provalone, parmesan, gruyere, havarti... at least not that I could discern. It wasn't good, that's what's important. But the underlying ability was there: the califlower was perfectly cooked, tender without being limp, crisp without being raw. The chicken was moist and juicy, the skin just crisp without being fried. But in the end, I just ended up feeling totally bloated, tired and over-full.
Dad didn't like his pot roast. I thought it was okay, but whoever did the sauce had a heavy hand with the wine. If that's not what you're expecting, then it's no good. It was also very salty, although Dad disagreed. We might have a different perspective on salt, though. I believe in lightly seasoning each layer of food as I'm cooking - just enough to bring out the flavor, but not enough to be noticable. Most salted food should have a savory flavor, not a strongly salty flavor. If I roast a chicken, I want you to be able to taste chicken, lemon, thyme, rosemary, onion, garlic... But I don't want you to think, "Is a pint of water really going to be enough? Why doesn't she bring that carafe over here so I can drink straight from it."
The worst part is that I'm a chicken shit. When the chef (or one of the cooks - I didn't notice an appellation on her white jacket) came to the table to ask how everything was, I just smiled and said, "Oh, great!" I really like the ambiance, the introductory rolls and breads are delicious, the staff are great... (In particular, our waiter was super.) I just don't have it in me to be honest and risk making everyone uncomfortable by lodging a complaint when everyone's had such a nice evening.
Dad didn't like his pot roast. I thought it was okay, but whoever did the sauce had a heavy hand with the wine. If that's not what you're expecting, then it's no good. It was also very salty, although Dad disagreed. We might have a different perspective on salt, though. I believe in lightly seasoning each layer of food as I'm cooking - just enough to bring out the flavor, but not enough to be noticable. Most salted food should have a savory flavor, not a strongly salty flavor. If I roast a chicken, I want you to be able to taste chicken, lemon, thyme, rosemary, onion, garlic... But I don't want you to think, "Is a pint of water really going to be enough? Why doesn't she bring that carafe over here so I can drink straight from it."
The worst part is that I'm a chicken shit. When the chef (or one of the cooks - I didn't notice an appellation on her white jacket) came to the table to ask how everything was, I just smiled and said, "Oh, great!" I really like the ambiance, the introductory rolls and breads are delicious, the staff are great... (In particular, our waiter was super.) I just don't have it in me to be honest and risk making everyone uncomfortable by lodging a complaint when everyone's had such a nice evening.
Sydney Makes Things Up About Rebecca Haarlow (1)
This one time, Rebecca Haarlow ate an entire cheesecake. Just cause she was hungry.
(Explanation (kind of) here.)
(Explanation (kind of) here.)
Friday, January 09, 2009
Sydney Makes Things Up About Rebecca Haarlow (0)
I have this idea for a blog. It would be called Sydney Makes Things Up About Rebecca Haarlow. If you don't know who Rebecca Haarlow is, that is okay. She has a Facebook page. That means she is a celebrity. She is the on-court interviewer for the Blazer's commentary team of Mike Rice and Mike Barrett. I think she's pretty good at her job, but never really thought about her that much. One of my co-workers said she and her husband couldn't stand Rebecca Haarlow and I thought that was weird; I mean, it's a pretty innocuous job. But one evening we noticed a guy in the stands at the Rose Garden with a big sign that said "We Love Rebecca Haarlow!!" (Or something similar.) So we looked her up, wondering if this was going to be a thing. We didn't learn much - just that she went to Princeton, is tall and an athlete - and I did not make any of that up. I think it was that same evening, each time she introduced a pre-taped bit and the camera was about to cut away, her face would fall very suddenly and she would look some combination of annoyed, tired, irritated and/or sad. I, of course, started hypothesizing as to why this might be.
"Oh, maybe it's cause the story's about Joel being hurt. Maybe she's got a thing for Joel. Ooh, Pete! Do you think they were secretly involved and now they've broken up and she's annoyed?"
"No no, I think maybe she's got a cold. Maybe she's really tired. Yeah, she looks tired."
"Ooh, Pete wouldn't it be awful if she and Joel were involved? And she had to report on his injury? [Silence] What? What is that look for?"
I determined that maybe Pete did not think listening to me make things up about Rebecca Haarlow was very interesting. Also, he couldn't hear Mike Rice's palaver over my own.
And then it came to me: this should be a thing on the internet. Only I can't quite bring myself to start a new blog that is definitely totally stupid and that I might only use twice. So I thought I would start here. So look for me making things up about Rebecca Haarlow (for no good reason) in the near future.
"Oh, maybe it's cause the story's about Joel being hurt. Maybe she's got a thing for Joel. Ooh, Pete! Do you think they were secretly involved and now they've broken up and she's annoyed?"
"No no, I think maybe she's got a cold. Maybe she's really tired. Yeah, she looks tired."
"Ooh, Pete wouldn't it be awful if she and Joel were involved? And she had to report on his injury? [Silence] What? What is that look for?"
I determined that maybe Pete did not think listening to me make things up about Rebecca Haarlow was very interesting. Also, he couldn't hear Mike Rice's palaver over my own.
And then it came to me: this should be a thing on the internet. Only I can't quite bring myself to start a new blog that is definitely totally stupid and that I might only use twice. So I thought I would start here. So look for me making things up about Rebecca Haarlow (for no good reason) in the near future.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Scientific exegesis of Nostradamus is not *actually* science. Sorry, History Channel.
I'm watching this show on the History channel right now - mostly because Pete teasingly suggested it and I had to call his bluff - and it is, well, silly. That is really the best word for it. It is chock-a-block with "scholars" talking about scientific interpretations of Nostradamus' quatrains. Seriously. Men who have trained in real sciences (yes - only men) are using their understanding of nuclear and cosmic radiation to explain... Nostradamus. Their justification is that Isaac Newton believed in alchemy and prophesy. Yes - and he also believed that leeches were a valid treatment for disease. Time and place, Scientists! Time and place!
The problem with this kind of "science" is that it's all predicated upon a completely ridiculous supposition: that Nostradamus could predict the future. He predicted Sadaam, you know. Here is their evidence. Quatrain 8:70.
He will enter, wicked, unpleasant, infamous,
tyrannizing over Mesopotamia.
All friends made by the adulterous lady,
the land dreadful and black of aspect.
Okay, that is not even English. That does not make any kind of grammatical sense. Here is the French.
Il entrera vilain, mechant, infame
Tyrannisant la Mesopotamie,
Tous amis fait d'adulterine d'ame,
Terre horrible, noir de phisonomie.
Admittedly, my French is a wee rusty, but I believe that "dame" is "lady" and "d'ame" is "of soul." I read this more as "He/It will enter ugly, mean, infamous / Tyrannizing Mesopotamia / All friends made by the bastard of soul / horrible earth, black physiognomy." It is interesting to note this definition of "physiognomy" from the wiktionary: "The art of telling fortunes by inspection of the features." I this this is really about a soul singer turned fortune teller who is good at neither avocation. But I digress.
Has there ever been a time when human beings didn't think the apocalypse was right around the corner? No. There has never been such a time. This program is looking for concordance between the Mayan End of Days Calendar, Hopi folk tales and a the poetry of a 16th century French pharmacist. Oh, and the Bible Code. The answer is: The world will end in 2012. Well, the Hopi say that the Fifth Age will begin in 2012. I say, "Fair enough, Hopi." To the rest of them, though, I can say only this: you are not doing science! Please stop pretending that's what you're up to!
I know what you are thinking: why keep watching if it is so ridiculous? Well, it's on the HD History Channel and it has all these gorgeous images of space (you know - predictions and cosmic rays all come from constellations). And now that it's muted, it's way less irritating.
Pete's take: "It's a stretch for being history, too." Maybe they should call it "pre-history" or "peri-history." Or, you know, "bull shit."
Okay, it just ended with shots of Portland and a guy saying something about "when new Rome fell." Um, hello? We're Little Beirut? Geez - it's like he's totally out of touch with the world or something.
The problem with this kind of "science" is that it's all predicated upon a completely ridiculous supposition: that Nostradamus could predict the future. He predicted Sadaam, you know. Here is their evidence. Quatrain 8:70.
He will enter, wicked, unpleasant, infamous,
tyrannizing over Mesopotamia.
All friends made by the adulterous lady,
the land dreadful and black of aspect.
Okay, that is not even English. That does not make any kind of grammatical sense. Here is the French.
Il entrera vilain, mechant, infame
Tyrannisant la Mesopotamie,
Tous amis fait d'adulterine d'ame,
Terre horrible, noir de phisonomie.
Admittedly, my French is a wee rusty, but I believe that "dame" is "lady" and "d'ame" is "of soul." I read this more as "He/It will enter ugly, mean, infamous / Tyrannizing Mesopotamia / All friends made by the bastard of soul / horrible earth, black physiognomy." It is interesting to note this definition of "physiognomy" from the wiktionary: "The art of telling fortunes by inspection of the features." I this this is really about a soul singer turned fortune teller who is good at neither avocation. But I digress.
Has there ever been a time when human beings didn't think the apocalypse was right around the corner? No. There has never been such a time. This program is looking for concordance between the Mayan End of Days Calendar, Hopi folk tales and a the poetry of a 16th century French pharmacist. Oh, and the Bible Code. The answer is: The world will end in 2012. Well, the Hopi say that the Fifth Age will begin in 2012. I say, "Fair enough, Hopi." To the rest of them, though, I can say only this: you are not doing science! Please stop pretending that's what you're up to!
I know what you are thinking: why keep watching if it is so ridiculous? Well, it's on the HD History Channel and it has all these gorgeous images of space (you know - predictions and cosmic rays all come from constellations). And now that it's muted, it's way less irritating.
Pete's take: "It's a stretch for being history, too." Maybe they should call it "pre-history" or "peri-history." Or, you know, "bull shit."
Okay, it just ended with shots of Portland and a guy saying something about "when new Rome fell." Um, hello? We're Little Beirut? Geez - it's like he's totally out of touch with the world or something.
Monday, January 05, 2009
Happy New Year!
Happy New Year, Everybody! (Happy New Year, Dr. Nick!) I have many updates, but I also have to shower and go to work. Let's see how fast I can run through these (synchronize watches now: it is 7:45 am).
1) Snow snow snow!! I've been putting together a slide show of snow pictures from our 2-week long "Arctic Blast," to use the parlance of our local news stations. I will get it posted soon - maybe tonight? - for those who are interested. Please keep in mind, non-Oregonians and especially people from snowy climes, most years Portland gets a quarter inch of snow in February and everyone gets their single snow day. 2 weeks of snowing is pretty much unheard of, and having more than a foot on the ground at all times in Portland, with temperatures under 30 (under 20 some of the time!)... well, that's just crazy talk. But it happened, for the first time in 50-years.
2) Pete has come up with a new name for the Sylvan overpass on Hwy-26 and I think we should petition the city to adopt Storm Team Memorial Overpass as its official appellation. "This is Mark Glyzewski for Storm Team 8,000 on the Storm Team Memorial Overpass. Back to you, Shauna."
3) I super love KGWs morning crew during a Weather Event. Normally I watch channel 12 (because some how Good Day Oregon has totally grown on me - probably because they're a little punchy every day and the aforementioned Glyzewski sounds like Number 24 from "Venture Brothers") but no matter when you got up between 4 am and 1 pm, KGW was on. That's right: Brenda Braxton and Russ Lewis were on for 9-hours every morning. And by the last hour, they were punchy. Delightfully nutty, having a good if exhausted time, blowing kisses to the viewers.
4) Hm. It's been 10 minutes already. I'm wandering!
5) Christmas: good. Gifts didn't all arrive, but we had at least one thing for everyone. I knit my brother socks, but even with all the days off, only had one finished because I had to rip back so many times. It would be nice if I could count and do basic arithmetic correctly the first three times.
6) New Years: good. Unexpected fun! Mike and Marissa took us out for drinks and we rang in the new year at a very subdued, mostly empty Baghdad Theater. On the way there, we ran into some nutters from Sacramento asking where they could catch a cab. Well, where they could catch a "fuckin' cab," so asks the guy. His female travelling companion says, "And sorry for saying 'fuck,'" and shoots him a look. We all demurred - I think Marissa said, "We're all adults here." Indeed! Pete said, "At a hotel," at the same moment I said, "You can't." I explained that Portland isn't really a cab city, so you have to call for one, unless you're near a hotel. And we couldn't think of a hotel nearby. So we asked where they were headed and told them how to take the bus. The girl became ebullient: "Oh man, Portlanders give the best fucking directions! You guys are so nice here! In [somewhere else - Seattle maybe?] they're all like 'Fuck you' but here, like at the airport even, people were all like, 'No, go this way, take this,' it's awesome man." The guy says, "Yeah, don't even ask for directions in SF. They're like, 'You don't know? Too fuckin' bad.'" They were pretty excited about the bus.
7) Edlund Family Christmas: held on 1/3 this year because of the snow. Good times, although we did miss Uncle Mike. We played Codeword or Password or something - I forget the name - and somehow made it work with a group of 16 people. Good times! Keaton and Mom share the same evil gift for passing the thing right before it buzzes, thereby scoring a point for their team.
8) A Very Martin Christmas: held yesterday, 1/4, because of snow. Also good times! We got our 8-year old niece Dance Dance Revolution because it seemed like her kind of game. And man was that a success! At one point she, her mom and an auntie all worked together to try "U Can't Touch This" on Expert, or so they thought. Mom took up and down, auntie took right, niece took left. They did not pass the first time, but repeated to finally score a C. And then realized it was on Basic, not Expert. You would not believe the peals of laughter generated by that game.
9) Oh noes! 8:05!
10) House update: It's cold. Really really cold. The hot water heater is not functioning very well and the fridge is making weird noises. And we've now found two "adult" items in our alley. The first was a porn DVD, about a month ago. The second was a "toy" - so very very gross. It was out there all day on Saturday, but after midnight some yahoos from the club next door noticed and came through the fence to examine it. Pete could hear their cries of, "ew! gross!" and then one of them said, "Oh gross, it's all covered in Vaseline but I don't even care I'm gonna pick it up and touch you with it." You should have seen him trying not to laugh to loudly where they'd hear him. It was dropped outside our fence when their ride arrived. I have pictures, but I'm not posting them for the same reason I wanted it gone from the front of the house: I don't want this to become known as the Vibrator Blog just like I don't want this house to become known as the Vibrator House. It was gone by Sunday evening - I have no idea what happened to it. I choose to believe it belonged to a club patron who tried to throw it away in our garbage cans, failed completely, and then noticed it on his/her way to church on Sunday and removed it for us. More likely, though, a less squeamish neighbor threw it out. Either way: hooray!
11) Okay, for those of you playing along at home, it's 8:15. That means it took me... ::sigh:: 30 minutes to do a "quick" update. You know, it's a good thing I don't make new year's resolutions, because I would break them all the time.
1) Snow snow snow!! I've been putting together a slide show of snow pictures from our 2-week long "Arctic Blast," to use the parlance of our local news stations. I will get it posted soon - maybe tonight? - for those who are interested. Please keep in mind, non-Oregonians and especially people from snowy climes, most years Portland gets a quarter inch of snow in February and everyone gets their single snow day. 2 weeks of snowing is pretty much unheard of, and having more than a foot on the ground at all times in Portland, with temperatures under 30 (under 20 some of the time!)... well, that's just crazy talk. But it happened, for the first time in 50-years.
2) Pete has come up with a new name for the Sylvan overpass on Hwy-26 and I think we should petition the city to adopt Storm Team Memorial Overpass as its official appellation. "This is Mark Glyzewski for Storm Team 8,000 on the Storm Team Memorial Overpass. Back to you, Shauna."
3) I super love KGWs morning crew during a Weather Event. Normally I watch channel 12 (because some how Good Day Oregon has totally grown on me - probably because they're a little punchy every day and the aforementioned Glyzewski sounds like Number 24 from "Venture Brothers") but no matter when you got up between 4 am and 1 pm, KGW was on. That's right: Brenda Braxton and Russ Lewis were on for 9-hours every morning. And by the last hour, they were punchy. Delightfully nutty, having a good if exhausted time, blowing kisses to the viewers.
4) Hm. It's been 10 minutes already. I'm wandering!
5) Christmas: good. Gifts didn't all arrive, but we had at least one thing for everyone. I knit my brother socks, but even with all the days off, only had one finished because I had to rip back so many times. It would be nice if I could count and do basic arithmetic correctly the first three times.
6) New Years: good. Unexpected fun! Mike and Marissa took us out for drinks and we rang in the new year at a very subdued, mostly empty Baghdad Theater. On the way there, we ran into some nutters from Sacramento asking where they could catch a cab. Well, where they could catch a "fuckin' cab," so asks the guy. His female travelling companion says, "And sorry for saying 'fuck,'" and shoots him a look. We all demurred - I think Marissa said, "We're all adults here." Indeed! Pete said, "At a hotel," at the same moment I said, "You can't." I explained that Portland isn't really a cab city, so you have to call for one, unless you're near a hotel. And we couldn't think of a hotel nearby. So we asked where they were headed and told them how to take the bus. The girl became ebullient: "Oh man, Portlanders give the best fucking directions! You guys are so nice here! In [somewhere else - Seattle maybe?] they're all like 'Fuck you' but here, like at the airport even, people were all like, 'No, go this way, take this,' it's awesome man." The guy says, "Yeah, don't even ask for directions in SF. They're like, 'You don't know? Too fuckin' bad.'" They were pretty excited about the bus.
7) Edlund Family Christmas: held on 1/3 this year because of the snow. Good times, although we did miss Uncle Mike. We played Codeword or Password or something - I forget the name - and somehow made it work with a group of 16 people. Good times! Keaton and Mom share the same evil gift for passing the thing right before it buzzes, thereby scoring a point for their team.
8) A Very Martin Christmas: held yesterday, 1/4, because of snow. Also good times! We got our 8-year old niece Dance Dance Revolution because it seemed like her kind of game. And man was that a success! At one point she, her mom and an auntie all worked together to try "U Can't Touch This" on Expert, or so they thought. Mom took up and down, auntie took right, niece took left. They did not pass the first time, but repeated to finally score a C. And then realized it was on Basic, not Expert. You would not believe the peals of laughter generated by that game.
9) Oh noes! 8:05!
10) House update: It's cold. Really really cold. The hot water heater is not functioning very well and the fridge is making weird noises. And we've now found two "adult" items in our alley. The first was a porn DVD, about a month ago. The second was a "toy" - so very very gross. It was out there all day on Saturday, but after midnight some yahoos from the club next door noticed and came through the fence to examine it. Pete could hear their cries of, "ew! gross!" and then one of them said, "Oh gross, it's all covered in Vaseline but I don't even care I'm gonna pick it up and touch you with it." You should have seen him trying not to laugh to loudly where they'd hear him. It was dropped outside our fence when their ride arrived. I have pictures, but I'm not posting them for the same reason I wanted it gone from the front of the house: I don't want this to become known as the Vibrator Blog just like I don't want this house to become known as the Vibrator House. It was gone by Sunday evening - I have no idea what happened to it. I choose to believe it belonged to a club patron who tried to throw it away in our garbage cans, failed completely, and then noticed it on his/her way to church on Sunday and removed it for us. More likely, though, a less squeamish neighbor threw it out. Either way: hooray!
11) Okay, for those of you playing along at home, it's 8:15. That means it took me... ::sigh:: 30 minutes to do a "quick" update. You know, it's a good thing I don't make new year's resolutions, because I would break them all the time.
Friday, December 05, 2008
Craft Night!
I had a delightful evening yesterday with some old friends and some new at a newly formed (at least as far as I know) weekly Craft Night. I had a hole in a sock I'd knit and a new friend helped me fix it. I made good headway on the socks I have on the needles and just had an amazing time.
Growing up, I always had small groups of friends with very intense friendships. But in college, I didn't really meet a lot of new people because so many high school classmates continued on to U of O. Admittedly, I became friends with a different group of people, but we many of us knew each other before college. And since college, most of my friends have moved away, so I haven't really hung out with people on a regular basis in a few years. To be honest, I didn't really notice. Probably because it wasn't like everyone was getting together and I felt excluded; it's hard to have a dinner party with invitees from Astoria, Eugene, Portland, Boston, DC, Baltimore, LA and Japan. But hanging out with this group of women last night made me realize how much I miss the friends that have moved away and how nice it is to, well, meet new people and socially interact.
This week was hosted by a friend from high school (A.) who I hadn't seen in years and years before a birthday party a couple weeks ago. She hosted at her parents' house in SE and man, it felt like going home. Anyone who grew up in SE or NE Portland* (at least around the time that I did) knows what I mean: the house that feels familiar and welcoming from the first moment you cross the threshold because it's truly a home. That lived-in feeling, tons of family photos and artwork, warm light, the smell of delicious cooking... It's the kind of house I grew up in. A's parents were sooo nice! It was weird to feel like a kid again but entirely internally. And to evaluate an initial experience as though I were 16. All I can do is hope that when Pete and I are ready to have kids, we can create that kind of environment for them.
*I'm sure this happens everywhere, but the old Portland homes in inner SE and NE have a particular feel. I couldn't explain it if I tried - some mix of architecture, age and people.
Growing up, I always had small groups of friends with very intense friendships. But in college, I didn't really meet a lot of new people because so many high school classmates continued on to U of O. Admittedly, I became friends with a different group of people, but we many of us knew each other before college. And since college, most of my friends have moved away, so I haven't really hung out with people on a regular basis in a few years. To be honest, I didn't really notice. Probably because it wasn't like everyone was getting together and I felt excluded; it's hard to have a dinner party with invitees from Astoria, Eugene, Portland, Boston, DC, Baltimore, LA and Japan. But hanging out with this group of women last night made me realize how much I miss the friends that have moved away and how nice it is to, well, meet new people and socially interact.
This week was hosted by a friend from high school (A.) who I hadn't seen in years and years before a birthday party a couple weeks ago. She hosted at her parents' house in SE and man, it felt like going home. Anyone who grew up in SE or NE Portland* (at least around the time that I did) knows what I mean: the house that feels familiar and welcoming from the first moment you cross the threshold because it's truly a home. That lived-in feeling, tons of family photos and artwork, warm light, the smell of delicious cooking... It's the kind of house I grew up in. A's parents were sooo nice! It was weird to feel like a kid again but entirely internally. And to evaluate an initial experience as though I were 16. All I can do is hope that when Pete and I are ready to have kids, we can create that kind of environment for them.
*I'm sure this happens everywhere, but the old Portland homes in inner SE and NE have a particular feel. I couldn't explain it if I tried - some mix of architecture, age and people.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Recipe
This morning I made Pete a crepe filling out of his favorite potassium-rich fruits: bananas and dates. I thought I'd post it here because it was really simple and he seemed to enjoy it. Please note: the dates need to be high quality. We used so-so dates and they were not so great. But Pete said that he things with better dates it would work. I think you'd need to go with really moist and juice unpitted dates. Pitted dates seem to be all dried out in the middle.
Bananas Foster (Kind Of)
This recipe makes enough filling for two 10" crepes.
2 tbsp salted butter
2 bananas, sliced into coins
4 average sized dates or 3 large dates, diced
1/4 c. brown sugar (we used dark brown, but I bet light brown works just as well)
1 tsp cinnamon
1. Heat a medium-sized pan over medium until well and truly hot.
2. Add the butter to the center of the pan and melt.
3. Add the bananas and dates. Toss gently to coat.
4. Add the brown sugar and cinnamon.
5. Toss gently to coat. (You can use a spoon to stir/flip, but the bananas need a gentle touch.)
6. Cook 2-3 minutes, until bananas are cooked through and brown sugar has melted into a gorgeous, sticky brown sauce.
7. Serve as crepe filling or over vanilla ice cream with candied walnuts.
Other ideas:
Bananas Foster (Kind Of)
This recipe makes enough filling for two 10" crepes.
2 tbsp salted butter
2 bananas, sliced into coins
4 average sized dates or 3 large dates, diced
1/4 c. brown sugar (we used dark brown, but I bet light brown works just as well)
1 tsp cinnamon
1. Heat a medium-sized pan over medium until well and truly hot.
2. Add the butter to the center of the pan and melt.
3. Add the bananas and dates. Toss gently to coat.
4. Add the brown sugar and cinnamon.
5. Toss gently to coat. (You can use a spoon to stir/flip, but the bananas need a gentle touch.)
6. Cook 2-3 minutes, until bananas are cooked through and brown sugar has melted into a gorgeous, sticky brown sauce.
7. Serve as crepe filling or over vanilla ice cream with candied walnuts.
Other ideas:
- To make it more summery, add shredded coconut or another tropical fruit.
- OR serve with coconut ice cream
- To make it more autumnal, add a pinch of cloves and a pinch of nutmeg for that pumpkin pie flavor
- OR make a pumpkin-flavored custard to accompany this sorta-bananas-foster in the crepe
Monday, November 24, 2008
A Contest!
Have you ever had Dove Promises, the chocolate squares whose foil wrapper has an important message about the future, your love life, chocolate or some weird mash-up of all three? If you haven't, go buy some: they're hilarious and delicious! If you have, then I'll assume you'll agree with me that the messages are pretty stupid. I misread one today as "A simile is the perfect gift, personal and encouraging."
So here is the contest: Suggestions For Future Dove Promise Wrappers.
How does it work? You suggest new slogans/promises/whimsical messages for these candy wrappers. If they're funny, praise will be heaped upon you! If they're not, ridicule is yours to endure!
What do you win? Nothing. This is a blog, guys, not Chinook Winds.
Here are some examples from actual candy foils:
So here is the contest: Suggestions For Future Dove Promise Wrappers.
How does it work? You suggest new slogans/promises/whimsical messages for these candy wrappers. If they're funny, praise will be heaped upon you! If they're not, ridicule is yours to endure!
What do you win? Nothing. This is a blog, guys, not Chinook Winds.
Here are some examples from actual candy foils:
- Love is always the perfect gift.
- Joy is contagious.
- Your presence is often the best present.
- Friendship is a gift in itself.
- A smile is the perfect gift, personal and encouraging.
- Here's a promise: these will make you fat.
Goddamnit, Apple
Why is it so hard to crop photos in iPhoto? It is the only software on my Mac that I truly and deeply hate. Although iTunes is working very hard at pissing me off.
iPhoto: get it together. It's easier to crop and resize pictures using the software that came with my camera. You have to work at being that crappy, so please stop trying so hard. Maybe be just a little annoying, like how the photos I've uploaded into my Pictures file aren't automatically added to my iPhoto library. You can keep that "feature." Just let me crop and edit without trauma. And maybe remind me that when I hit "save" to keep the cropping I finally got to work (with no small amount of swearing and threatening my MacBook with bodily harm, I might add) that you're replacing the copy of the photo in my library and maybe ask me if I'd like to save the cropped version as a copy rather than replacing the original.
I swear, if I didn't have to pay to upload more than 100mb of picture a month with Flickr, I would stop using iPhoto all together. As it is, I think I'm going to need a Valium before any future use.
(Also: why is it that when I add a picture on my goddamn blog it always inserts it at the beginning of the post? I'm so fawking sorry I'm not a goddamned expert at HTML, Blog Interface! Arrrgh!
Erm... I'm going to go have a little lie down now and try to calm my burgeoning inner technophobe.)
iPhoto: get it together. It's easier to crop and resize pictures using the software that came with my camera. You have to work at being that crappy, so please stop trying so hard. Maybe be just a little annoying, like how the photos I've uploaded into my Pictures file aren't automatically added to my iPhoto library. You can keep that "feature." Just let me crop and edit without trauma. And maybe remind me that when I hit "save" to keep the cropping I finally got to work (with no small amount of swearing and threatening my MacBook with bodily harm, I might add) that you're replacing the copy of the photo in my library and maybe ask me if I'd like to save the cropped version as a copy rather than replacing the original.
I swear, if I didn't have to pay to upload more than 100mb of picture a month with Flickr, I would stop using iPhoto all together. As it is, I think I'm going to need a Valium before any future use.
(Also: why is it that when I add a picture on my goddamn blog it always inserts it at the beginning of the post? I'm so fawking sorry I'm not a goddamned expert at HTML, Blog Interface! Arrrgh!
Erm... I'm going to go have a little lie down now and try to calm my burgeoning inner technophobe.)
Friday, November 21, 2008
Srsly-
the country version of the Blazer's song sucks.
So very, very much.
Omigod: please play something else. This weak sauce is making me regret the invention of music.
So very, very much.
Omigod: please play something else. This weak sauce is making me regret the invention of music.
Knittin'
I have recently given up on computer games in favor of knitting. This is partly because it's finally cold enough that I want to sit around with a pile of wool on my lap. But it's also because the OCD piece of my personality is cyclical in nature and obsesses in waves.
Mostly I've been knitting socks.
Socks for me.
Socks for Pete.
Socks for no one because I'm not sure I can stand the yarn/pattern combination enough to knit the second sock. (I like the way they look, but the yarn is too slippery and the pattern made a very poochy heel. Also, you may note a hole that was created by not-my-favorite-heel-instructions-ever.)
I may write another post or two about knitting, but just in case anyone was curious as to what happened to me post-election, the answer is: Socks.
Mostly I've been knitting socks.
Socks for me.
Socks for Pete.
Socks for no one because I'm not sure I can stand the yarn/pattern combination enough to knit the second sock. (I like the way they look, but the yarn is too slippery and the pattern made a very poochy heel. Also, you may note a hole that was created by not-my-favorite-heel-instructions-ever.)
I may write another post or two about knitting, but just in case anyone was curious as to what happened to me post-election, the answer is: Socks.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Things I didn't know we'd lost
Obama has given us our patriotism back. I just... I mean... Just watch this video. It's incredible. Portland, so-called "Beirut West," is so proud, so happy to be an American city. It always has been, but suddenly that has a whole new meaning and its people are taking back some of the symbols of the "real America/fake America" rhetoric that's become so popular over the last eight years. Perhaps most amazing? They're doing so without irony, without kitsch; they're just genuinely, authentically overjoyed. And you're welcome to join them.
Some observations on our more perfect union
Listening to Obama speak last night, I was very impressed by how inclusive he remained. "How can anyone not like this man?" I thought. Really: how can anyone not love him? He's a thoughtful, measured leader with a wide smile who didn't once choose valedictory giddiness over calm reassurance that he has a plan and it includes everyone.
Then I checked into Facebook and saw that a friend's status was "I'm so proud of my country right now." And I thought, "Oh my God: Obama is going to make it okay to be patriotic again." In recent history, it seems like Americans either Love America Without Question or hate America. This is, of course, artificial. But I think there are a lot of people who felt like any criticism of the US by its citizens amounted to treason. And a lot of people who felt like any vocalization of love for such a flawed country amounted to idiocy. I know: that's an over simplification. But my point is this: I think Obama has the potential to make critical patriotism okay, to unite the divide the Republican party has worked so long and hard to cultivate.
And now some observations that I don't really have time to weave into a narrative here, with like, transitions and linking sentences and stuff.
Observation 1) This year many GOP candidates (most notably, Sarah Palin) have been talking about a "Real America" and, well, they never really gave the other America a name. In the past, they've used the phrase "the blame America first crowd." In any case, the GOP has promoted the idea of two Americas who are diametrically opposed and mutually exclusive.
Observation 2) For the past decade (at the very least), the Republican party has actively worked to suppress the vote. They do not believe everyone is equally qualified to vote and would prefer two classes of citizens. While those two classes really amount to Those That Agree With Us (qualified) and Those That Don't (unqualified), they are also about class (upper class/middle- and lower class), race (white/non-white), age (older/younger) and location (central/coastal). It is another way of dividing American in two.
Observation 3) The Republican party was born out of a need for two diametrically opposed parties. Americans watched as the Whigs and the Know Nothings tore themselves apart from the inside over the issue of slavery while the democrats remained relatively intact. (At least this is my understanding of things.) The Republican party was anti-slavery. It drew a line in the sand and said, "There are two Americas." We interpret this now as an obvious moral distinction, "One is right and one is wrong," but it was an economic distinction as well. It was about the place of industrialization, modernization, states' rights, federal jurisdiction... The country was clearly heading for a rift and any party with a cohesive internal belief system was going to end up on one side or the other. The Republican party has been about choosing sides since its beginnings.
Then I checked into Facebook and saw that a friend's status was "I'm so proud of my country right now." And I thought, "Oh my God: Obama is going to make it okay to be patriotic again." In recent history, it seems like Americans either Love America Without Question or hate America. This is, of course, artificial. But I think there are a lot of people who felt like any criticism of the US by its citizens amounted to treason. And a lot of people who felt like any vocalization of love for such a flawed country amounted to idiocy. I know: that's an over simplification. But my point is this: I think Obama has the potential to make critical patriotism okay, to unite the divide the Republican party has worked so long and hard to cultivate.
And now some observations that I don't really have time to weave into a narrative here, with like, transitions and linking sentences and stuff.
Observation 1) This year many GOP candidates (most notably, Sarah Palin) have been talking about a "Real America" and, well, they never really gave the other America a name. In the past, they've used the phrase "the blame America first crowd." In any case, the GOP has promoted the idea of two Americas who are diametrically opposed and mutually exclusive.
Observation 2) For the past decade (at the very least), the Republican party has actively worked to suppress the vote. They do not believe everyone is equally qualified to vote and would prefer two classes of citizens. While those two classes really amount to Those That Agree With Us (qualified) and Those That Don't (unqualified), they are also about class (upper class/middle- and lower class), race (white/non-white), age (older/younger) and location (central/coastal). It is another way of dividing American in two.
Observation 3) The Republican party was born out of a need for two diametrically opposed parties. Americans watched as the Whigs and the Know Nothings tore themselves apart from the inside over the issue of slavery while the democrats remained relatively intact. (At least this is my understanding of things.) The Republican party was anti-slavery. It drew a line in the sand and said, "There are two Americas." We interpret this now as an obvious moral distinction, "One is right and one is wrong," but it was an economic distinction as well. It was about the place of industrialization, modernization, states' rights, federal jurisdiction... The country was clearly heading for a rift and any party with a cohesive internal belief system was going to end up on one side or the other. The Republican party has been about choosing sides since its beginnings.
Monday, November 03, 2008
Mixed Messages (Sorry this is crazy long - I suck at the whole brevity thing)
Last night I watched a couple hours of TLC: first, a show on what happened to two girls who were once in child pageants called "Painted Babies at 17;" and second, "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant."
I meant to mention the first one only in passing - child pageants are creepy - but there's actually a little more to it than that. One of the girls has continuously competed in pageants since age 5 and has won tens of thousand of dollars will no discernible skills other than keeping a plastic smile pasted on her face while being serenaded by a very weird pageant MC. The other quit pageants at 7, goes to an expensive boarding school and works for minimum wage at a local buffet diner in Appalachia. At first I thought the point was going to be that the girl who quit is better adjusted and is focusing on a real future (career as a tv news anchor), while the other wants to get married and have a big family. (She also had some career aspiration, but I forget what. I remember thinking it was something like Medical Assistant, which I think of as a career you have to make money on your way to something else, not something you dream of being at 17.)
As the program progressed, they began to reveal more about the circumstances in which the two girls find themselves. The one who quit didn't just up and quit out of the blue at 7 after winning thousands of dollars and a car with more than 20 titles: her little brother was born with disabilities and her mom didn't have time to devote to pageanting any more. Although they never say it (BBC4 is too subtle for that), the clear message is: "Baby pageants are driven by the mothers and that's all there is to it. Little girls would never choose to do this on their own." The girl who continued in pageants, meanwhile, did so with the support and participation of both parents until she was 15, when her parents divorced. At least that's how they described it in the beginning. Later they gave more detail. Her father, Boo (no - I'm not making that up), just walked out on his wife and seven children one day and 10 months later married some other woman. They ask her if she misses him, if she ever sees him, if it's hard. It's all very tasteful and non-exploitative. And then explaining why she doesn't see her dad, she says, "Well, the state took out a restraining order on him, so..." The interviewer asks something and she says, "Oh, it was real bad, he was real abusive mentally... emotionally... physically..." She kind of swallows the last adverb and her grandmother swoops in with, "He was a real bad sort." Or something along those lines.
I think this is interesting because there didn't seem to be a clear message any more by the end of the program. At the beginning, I would have said that the theme was "pageants are bad for little girls, they're creepy, and they turn Moms into raving lunatics." By the middle, it seemed to have moved to "Pageants may be creepy, but they make bank, and if you're a poor family with seven kids, having one or two little beauty queens might be your best bet for a new car." It was sympathetic. By the end, though, it painted both girls as victims of circumstance. Certainly one has a brighter future, with real world goals. One could argue that she was either saved or robbed by her brother's disabilities. The other girl, though... It seemed to conclude that she was a survivor and this was what she knew how to do. She's burdened by family obligations, she had an abusive dad who ran off and this is how she's dealing with her emotional scars. So, are pageants creepy? Yes. But maybe that's not the worst thing you have to deal with?
The other program, "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant," is about women who didn't know they were pregnant until they went into labor. It had some serious message problems. They make a big deal over the fact that none of these women had any prenatal care. "And without prenatal care, she may have endangered her baby's life without even realizing it." Well, duh. She didn't know there was a baby, guys. And I think this is an important message. (Prenatal care: it's good for fetuses.)
But they also make a big deal about the fact that all of these women went into labor at home (again: duh, they didn't know they were pregnant). The message is, "Babies will die if they are not born in a hospital. With an OB. With a mother lying supine, in a hospital gown. Seriously, without these things babies cannot be born and survive." I think this point of view is totally misleading. The risk in these pregnancies was not because they didn't arrive at the hospital until late in their trial of labor; the risk is that they didn't know they were pregnant and thought they were dying of tumors or organ rupture or something. Additionally, no mention is made of the fact that all five women profiled were overweight. Well, one of them has "obesity" described as a risk factor for her pregnancy. But it seemed like maybe it was worth mentioning for all of them. Perhaps I'm just judgemental, but if we're going to talk about risks and pregnancy, I think obesity (and it's BFFs "hypertension" and "gestational diabetes") would figure high on the list.
Where does the message get mixed?, you may be wondering. Okay, all this talk about risk risk risk. But for each woman, they say, "Luckily, she quit taking birth control and never drank or smoked throughout her pregnancy." Only one woman delivers prematurely; she has twins at 30 weeks. That's very early (by about 10 weeks), but after lung development. And twins are often born prematurely (although not necessarily that prematurely). So over the course of the show they build a profile of a risky pregnancy for you: no prenatal care, labor outside a hospital. And then they totally undermine it by only showing healthy, happy resulting families.
What really got me was that at the end of the show. There's a title card that says "In loving memory of..." someone, but went by too quickly for me to read. So I rewound and paused. It was in loving memory of one of the premature twins. !! So one of these pregnancies did not have a happy outcome; one of those poor twins died less that three months after her traumatic birth. Here is your message about the importance of prenatal care, TLC! Here is your example of why you should take care of yourself, keep your weight and blood pressure under control! And all that poor baby gets is passing mention because, well, it's a downer.
Anyway, while I thought both programs were interesting, I think maybe not for the reasons intended. Both shows were produced ostensibly to be both educational and a little sensational. Fine - prenatal care good; baby pageants bad. But it was like they lost their nerve about 2/3 of the way through. Uh, prenatal care good, but, um, nothing bad ever happens to babies. Baby pageants bad, but, erm, we guess they're better than developmental disabilities and child abuse. Unless they are a form of child abuse. LALAlalalalala - I can't hear you!
Is this a symptom of something larger growing in our culture? News outlets seem to have a hard time with issues that really only have one perspective. "Human trafficking: we know the sex slaves hate it, but how do the pimps and coyotes feel?" No! There is only one perspective on this. Human trafficking: it's really bad. And also illegal. And immoral. That is the perspective. Are we now pulling punches on educational programming as well? Where does this take us? Today we have High Risk Pregnancies With Zero Risk Outcomes - Don't Worry, Careless Ladies: Evidently You Have Nothing To Fear. And tomorrow? STDs: Maybe They Suck, or Maybe You Love Having Sores On Your Genitals, We Really Couldn't Say. Sometimes things have unhappy endings. Sometimes things are bad and they make you feel sad. But that's part of life. Maybe we should bring back all the old fairy tales where children are lured into the woods and eaten because they ignored their parents, but update them for the issues we face now. I will leave you with my attempt. Keep in mind, I'm going for pastiche here. Terms like "fetal alcohol syndrome" and "hip dysplasia" don't really fit the rhythm.
Blue Belle and The Unrecognized Pregnancy
There once was a girl named Blue Belle, for her eyes were the loveliest shade of sky blue. She was well loved and indulged in her every desire by everyone throughout her young life. But as she blossomed into the flower of womanhood, she found her desires had grown beyond the healthful norm and she suffered for it.
First, she grew overlarge as she indulged in great quantities of food and drink. "More wine!" she called. "More mutton! More pies!" But never more vegetables; never more fruit. The old village wise woman clucked her tongue and said, "You should eat rich treats in moderation, my girl! They'll poison you from the inside if you don't!" But Belle just laughed her tinkling laugh and shouted for more beer.
When food and drink began to bore her, she began to crave entertainment. "More shows! More performers!" she cried from her couch. And no one could deny those sparkling blue eyes, that gay and ringing voice, those perfect smiling lips. Except the old wise woman, who again admonished: "You should get up and see the world for yourself. Go out into it - explore, meet new people, make your own entertainment. If you don't, your world will be very small indeed and you'll never quite fit in it." But Blue Belle just shushed her as the next performance began.
And when she had seen every show, witnessed every performance, she found that she was filled with lust, especially for one man against whom she had been warned by every other woman in the village. She took up with this young man, covered in tattoos, coarse of language, boorish and uneducated, and for a time they were very happy. They drank and ate and smoked and made love together day in, day out. The old wise woman shouted up to her window, "He's made you no promises, nor you him! Without commitment there can be no real trust - only foolish blindness!" Blue Belle simply shut the windows and drew the curtains.
Eventually Blue Belle began to notice that she was missing her womanly cycles. "No matter," said she. "I am very anxious about life. Where will I find more entertainment? Who will bring me a delicious pie? Where is my beer? Why does everyone whisper about me behind my back?"
For the better part of a year Blue Belle lived this way, until one day her anxiety seemed to take root in her back and belly and began to rip through her in waves of nauseous pain. "Oh, oh! I am rent in twain!" she cried. Her tattooed beau ran for the doctor who attended her posthaste. After seeing the condition Blue Belle was in, and knowing of her habits and her past, he sent for the village midwife.
Upon her arrival, the midwife smiled down at the pained and crumpled Blue Belle and told her the happy news. "You are not being rent in twain! You're having a baby!" Blue Belle's eyes sparkled with momentary relief, and then grew dull with renewed anxiety. "But I'm not ready for a child! Where will it live? How shall I feed it?" The midwife smiled kindly. "Don't you worry. I'm sure your young man will help you provide for your child and you'll make room. You'll make due. These things always work out."
But things were not going well for Blue Belle. Her eating and drinking with abandon had made her fat and unhealthy. Her heart raced, her blood pumped through her veins with ferocity, and she felt weak. Her obsession with entertainers and performers had kept her housebound for some many months, and her joints were not used to a wide range of motion. As the baby pushed and shoved its way into the world, she felt her body tearing, her hips popping, her life draining.
As the midwife caught the baby, the smile faded from her face. The baby made no sound and the woman turned away from Blue Belle and conferred with the doctor. The doctor sent for the wise woman. Upon her arrival, she took the baby from the midwife and clucked her tongue at the sickly new mother. "It's as I said it would be. Your insides are poisoned - look at you! And your baby is poisoned as well." Still the baby made no sound. "What's wrong with it?" cried Blue Belle. "It's a syphilitic, like it's mother. Without commitment, there is only foolish blindness! You blinded yourself to that man's failings, and where is he now?" Blue Belle looked around but he was gone. Her azure eyes filled with tears. The wise woman did not relent. "It's also very small and clearly suffers from your alcoholism. It may well be brain damaged, but we shall never know because it has expired its last breath before even taking it's first." Blue Belle cried and cried, suddenly alone in her very tiny world.
The wise woman sat on the bed and took Blue Belle's head in her lap. "If only I had listened," Blue Belle wept. "If only I had taken my pleasures in moderation and sought to better myself. If only I had been the least bit..." but she could say no more, for she too had expired.
From her burial mound in the local graveyard, a rose bush grew and bloomed with the loveliest pale blue roses, but only for a season, and then they too were gone.
I meant to mention the first one only in passing - child pageants are creepy - but there's actually a little more to it than that. One of the girls has continuously competed in pageants since age 5 and has won tens of thousand of dollars will no discernible skills other than keeping a plastic smile pasted on her face while being serenaded by a very weird pageant MC. The other quit pageants at 7, goes to an expensive boarding school and works for minimum wage at a local buffet diner in Appalachia. At first I thought the point was going to be that the girl who quit is better adjusted and is focusing on a real future (career as a tv news anchor), while the other wants to get married and have a big family. (She also had some career aspiration, but I forget what. I remember thinking it was something like Medical Assistant, which I think of as a career you have to make money on your way to something else, not something you dream of being at 17.)
As the program progressed, they began to reveal more about the circumstances in which the two girls find themselves. The one who quit didn't just up and quit out of the blue at 7 after winning thousands of dollars and a car with more than 20 titles: her little brother was born with disabilities and her mom didn't have time to devote to pageanting any more. Although they never say it (BBC4 is too subtle for that), the clear message is: "Baby pageants are driven by the mothers and that's all there is to it. Little girls would never choose to do this on their own." The girl who continued in pageants, meanwhile, did so with the support and participation of both parents until she was 15, when her parents divorced. At least that's how they described it in the beginning. Later they gave more detail. Her father, Boo (no - I'm not making that up), just walked out on his wife and seven children one day and 10 months later married some other woman. They ask her if she misses him, if she ever sees him, if it's hard. It's all very tasteful and non-exploitative. And then explaining why she doesn't see her dad, she says, "Well, the state took out a restraining order on him, so..." The interviewer asks something and she says, "Oh, it was real bad, he was real abusive mentally... emotionally... physically..." She kind of swallows the last adverb and her grandmother swoops in with, "He was a real bad sort." Or something along those lines.
I think this is interesting because there didn't seem to be a clear message any more by the end of the program. At the beginning, I would have said that the theme was "pageants are bad for little girls, they're creepy, and they turn Moms into raving lunatics." By the middle, it seemed to have moved to "Pageants may be creepy, but they make bank, and if you're a poor family with seven kids, having one or two little beauty queens might be your best bet for a new car." It was sympathetic. By the end, though, it painted both girls as victims of circumstance. Certainly one has a brighter future, with real world goals. One could argue that she was either saved or robbed by her brother's disabilities. The other girl, though... It seemed to conclude that she was a survivor and this was what she knew how to do. She's burdened by family obligations, she had an abusive dad who ran off and this is how she's dealing with her emotional scars. So, are pageants creepy? Yes. But maybe that's not the worst thing you have to deal with?
The other program, "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant," is about women who didn't know they were pregnant until they went into labor. It had some serious message problems. They make a big deal over the fact that none of these women had any prenatal care. "And without prenatal care, she may have endangered her baby's life without even realizing it." Well, duh. She didn't know there was a baby, guys. And I think this is an important message. (Prenatal care: it's good for fetuses.)
But they also make a big deal about the fact that all of these women went into labor at home (again: duh, they didn't know they were pregnant). The message is, "Babies will die if they are not born in a hospital. With an OB. With a mother lying supine, in a hospital gown. Seriously, without these things babies cannot be born and survive." I think this point of view is totally misleading. The risk in these pregnancies was not because they didn't arrive at the hospital until late in their trial of labor; the risk is that they didn't know they were pregnant and thought they were dying of tumors or organ rupture or something. Additionally, no mention is made of the fact that all five women profiled were overweight. Well, one of them has "obesity" described as a risk factor for her pregnancy. But it seemed like maybe it was worth mentioning for all of them. Perhaps I'm just judgemental, but if we're going to talk about risks and pregnancy, I think obesity (and it's BFFs "hypertension" and "gestational diabetes") would figure high on the list.
Where does the message get mixed?, you may be wondering. Okay, all this talk about risk risk risk. But for each woman, they say, "Luckily, she quit taking birth control and never drank or smoked throughout her pregnancy." Only one woman delivers prematurely; she has twins at 30 weeks. That's very early (by about 10 weeks), but after lung development. And twins are often born prematurely (although not necessarily that prematurely). So over the course of the show they build a profile of a risky pregnancy for you: no prenatal care, labor outside a hospital. And then they totally undermine it by only showing healthy, happy resulting families.
What really got me was that at the end of the show. There's a title card that says "In loving memory of..." someone, but went by too quickly for me to read. So I rewound and paused. It was in loving memory of one of the premature twins. !! So one of these pregnancies did not have a happy outcome; one of those poor twins died less that three months after her traumatic birth. Here is your message about the importance of prenatal care, TLC! Here is your example of why you should take care of yourself, keep your weight and blood pressure under control! And all that poor baby gets is passing mention because, well, it's a downer.
Anyway, while I thought both programs were interesting, I think maybe not for the reasons intended. Both shows were produced ostensibly to be both educational and a little sensational. Fine - prenatal care good; baby pageants bad. But it was like they lost their nerve about 2/3 of the way through. Uh, prenatal care good, but, um, nothing bad ever happens to babies. Baby pageants bad, but, erm, we guess they're better than developmental disabilities and child abuse. Unless they are a form of child abuse. LALAlalalalala - I can't hear you!
Is this a symptom of something larger growing in our culture? News outlets seem to have a hard time with issues that really only have one perspective. "Human trafficking: we know the sex slaves hate it, but how do the pimps and coyotes feel?" No! There is only one perspective on this. Human trafficking: it's really bad. And also illegal. And immoral. That is the perspective. Are we now pulling punches on educational programming as well? Where does this take us? Today we have High Risk Pregnancies With Zero Risk Outcomes - Don't Worry, Careless Ladies: Evidently You Have Nothing To Fear. And tomorrow? STDs: Maybe They Suck, or Maybe You Love Having Sores On Your Genitals, We Really Couldn't Say. Sometimes things have unhappy endings. Sometimes things are bad and they make you feel sad. But that's part of life. Maybe we should bring back all the old fairy tales where children are lured into the woods and eaten because they ignored their parents, but update them for the issues we face now. I will leave you with my attempt. Keep in mind, I'm going for pastiche here. Terms like "fetal alcohol syndrome" and "hip dysplasia" don't really fit the rhythm.
Blue Belle and The Unrecognized Pregnancy
There once was a girl named Blue Belle, for her eyes were the loveliest shade of sky blue. She was well loved and indulged in her every desire by everyone throughout her young life. But as she blossomed into the flower of womanhood, she found her desires had grown beyond the healthful norm and she suffered for it.
First, she grew overlarge as she indulged in great quantities of food and drink. "More wine!" she called. "More mutton! More pies!" But never more vegetables; never more fruit. The old village wise woman clucked her tongue and said, "You should eat rich treats in moderation, my girl! They'll poison you from the inside if you don't!" But Belle just laughed her tinkling laugh and shouted for more beer.
When food and drink began to bore her, she began to crave entertainment. "More shows! More performers!" she cried from her couch. And no one could deny those sparkling blue eyes, that gay and ringing voice, those perfect smiling lips. Except the old wise woman, who again admonished: "You should get up and see the world for yourself. Go out into it - explore, meet new people, make your own entertainment. If you don't, your world will be very small indeed and you'll never quite fit in it." But Blue Belle just shushed her as the next performance began.
And when she had seen every show, witnessed every performance, she found that she was filled with lust, especially for one man against whom she had been warned by every other woman in the village. She took up with this young man, covered in tattoos, coarse of language, boorish and uneducated, and for a time they were very happy. They drank and ate and smoked and made love together day in, day out. The old wise woman shouted up to her window, "He's made you no promises, nor you him! Without commitment there can be no real trust - only foolish blindness!" Blue Belle simply shut the windows and drew the curtains.
Eventually Blue Belle began to notice that she was missing her womanly cycles. "No matter," said she. "I am very anxious about life. Where will I find more entertainment? Who will bring me a delicious pie? Where is my beer? Why does everyone whisper about me behind my back?"
For the better part of a year Blue Belle lived this way, until one day her anxiety seemed to take root in her back and belly and began to rip through her in waves of nauseous pain. "Oh, oh! I am rent in twain!" she cried. Her tattooed beau ran for the doctor who attended her posthaste. After seeing the condition Blue Belle was in, and knowing of her habits and her past, he sent for the village midwife.
Upon her arrival, the midwife smiled down at the pained and crumpled Blue Belle and told her the happy news. "You are not being rent in twain! You're having a baby!" Blue Belle's eyes sparkled with momentary relief, and then grew dull with renewed anxiety. "But I'm not ready for a child! Where will it live? How shall I feed it?" The midwife smiled kindly. "Don't you worry. I'm sure your young man will help you provide for your child and you'll make room. You'll make due. These things always work out."
But things were not going well for Blue Belle. Her eating and drinking with abandon had made her fat and unhealthy. Her heart raced, her blood pumped through her veins with ferocity, and she felt weak. Her obsession with entertainers and performers had kept her housebound for some many months, and her joints were not used to a wide range of motion. As the baby pushed and shoved its way into the world, she felt her body tearing, her hips popping, her life draining.
As the midwife caught the baby, the smile faded from her face. The baby made no sound and the woman turned away from Blue Belle and conferred with the doctor. The doctor sent for the wise woman. Upon her arrival, she took the baby from the midwife and clucked her tongue at the sickly new mother. "It's as I said it would be. Your insides are poisoned - look at you! And your baby is poisoned as well." Still the baby made no sound. "What's wrong with it?" cried Blue Belle. "It's a syphilitic, like it's mother. Without commitment, there is only foolish blindness! You blinded yourself to that man's failings, and where is he now?" Blue Belle looked around but he was gone. Her azure eyes filled with tears. The wise woman did not relent. "It's also very small and clearly suffers from your alcoholism. It may well be brain damaged, but we shall never know because it has expired its last breath before even taking it's first." Blue Belle cried and cried, suddenly alone in her very tiny world.
The wise woman sat on the bed and took Blue Belle's head in her lap. "If only I had listened," Blue Belle wept. "If only I had taken my pleasures in moderation and sought to better myself. If only I had been the least bit..." but she could say no more, for she too had expired.
From her burial mound in the local graveyard, a rose bush grew and bloomed with the loveliest pale blue roses, but only for a season, and then they too were gone.
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