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spring is sneezing

Waiting out the tornado sirens with Bessie, who is thinking of puking on me. Apparently this is a very pensive-looking affair.

It was all of a week and a half ago that we had snow on the ground, but since then, we’ve already had to hunker down in the hallway as tornado sirens went off all around us, and that means spring has come to Arkansas.

Side note: there is perhaps no better way to up the ante on the anxiety of waiting out a tornadic storm than being hunkered in your hallway with a dog who just vomited that morning, whose stomach is still audibly gurgling from across the room. It’s like a game of Russian Roulette, where you’re just wondering which will go off first, the puking dog or Mother Nature’s whirling fury. (Speaking of: Mother Nature’s Whirling Fury is so my next band name.)

Neighbor's daffodils. Image edited with Instagram.

With spring, er, springing, my snot production has ramped into high gear. I am allergic to springtime. Tree pollen is apparently already floating through the air, and daffodils are poking their little yellow heads out of our neighbors’ flower beds. Our flower beds are bare, not because I am some sort of anti-flower allergic crazy person, but because our entire yard is shaded by a giant tree, and what isn’t shaded has been dug to pieces or destroyed by our dogs, who literally wallered our cana plants to death, because they are apparently soft to lie on.  Anyway, back to the snot, I estimate that I’ve used a box of Kleenex in the last 24 hours. An entire box. It makes the little Al Gore environmentalist on my shoulder want to weep, but really, a hankie can’t handle this level of mucus production. And neither can my delicate flower of a nose.

I also apparently have a delicate flower of a psyche. I can’t take Claritin. It makes me MEAN.  In fact, I had the following conversation with Jon last night, as he researched possible allergy meds for me on some doctor app on his phone:

Jon: Claritin’s the cheapest.

Me: I can’t take that stuff. It makes me a raging psycho bitch, and yes, I know, you’re about to interrupt and tell me that ain’t nuthin’ you haven’t seen before outta me, to which I reply, YOU DO NOT EVEN KNOW THE DEPTHS OF THE CRAZY POSSIBLE WHEN I’M TAKING THAT DRUG. It is NOT worth the price difference, I promise.

Jon: OK, not Claritin, then.

My favorite allergy med cocktail is a combination of Allegra D, a nasal steroid, and Pataday eyedrops for really bad days. But Allegra D is friggety freakin’ expensive. (Anyone wanna give me a bag full of samples?) So I take Zyrtec, which is available both OTC and as a prescription generic, the nasal steroid, and keep the eye drops on hand for when I really really need them.When things are really REALLY bad, I knock myself unconscious with Benadryl and hope to wake up when spring is over.

Now, I’m sure you may have noticed my hippie dippy tendencies in the past, such as the compost bucket I keep in my kitchen. Why not use a Neti Pot, you might ask? And yes, everyone asks that, all the time, when faced with my snotty springtime misery. To which I say, no, thank you, I will not use a nose teapot, and also, I will point out that a nose teapot only provides temporary relief. It rinses out the snot and pollen for about 1o minutes, before my sensitive respiratory tract again encounters pollen and commences to freaking out and ramping up snot production. I do not wish to use a nose teapot every 10 minutes. And so I use prescription drugs. Better living through science.

Despite my own deep hatred of the Neti Pot (seriously, water up the nose is the worst feeling ever), I find them endlessly amusing. Especially when some bearded guy puts coffee and whiskey up his nose with one of them:

Enjoy.

In the meantime, I could use any other allergy tips, and also, tips for a good waterproof mascara that’s also not impossible to get off at the end of the day, because these are the times that try my makeup, when my body decides to be as oozy as possible. Thanks pollen! Thanks, crazy body that thinks pollen is trying to kill me!

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evangelical economics

President Obama's proposed 2012 budget, via: http://www.whitehouse.gov/omb/budget

I have to say up front: I do not consider myself an Evangelical. I grew up Presbyterian (PCUSA) and have only gotten more “liberal” theologically from there. Jesus is still alright with me.

My friend Sarah turned my attention to recent polling of Evangelicals on the issue of the federal budget. Apparently, were they in charge of the government’s spending, Evangelicals are more likely than the average American to want to cut funding for: aid to the poor around the world, aid to the unemployed in our own country, and funding used to protect and care for our environment. From the piece: “evangelicals were more supportive of funding cuts in every area except military defense, terrorism defense, aid to veterans, and energy…Evangelicals were more likely to favor an increase in defense spending (45 percent) compared to non-evangelicals (28 percent).”

From this Jesus-follower’s perspective? Talk about bassackwards. Good gravy.

The defense spending is particularly troubling to me. We’d rather spend money to wage war against the people of the world than to spend money on foreign aid to help them build the sorts of stable economies and governments that make more less likely? And we’re not sure we’re even spending enough money on the military and war in the first place?

It makes me wonder if the translations of the Bible those other folks are reading are just WILDLY different than the TNIV I usually read. My love for Jesus compels me to care for the poor and needy and unemployed, both in my own country and around the world. My love for Jesus compels me to care passionately about God’s creation, desiring to treat it with the respect I’d treat anything I borrowed from a friend, and to preserve it so it can be enjoyed by future generations. My love for Jesus compels me to believe that even my nation’s enemies are my God’s children, and to oppose all violence and war. And if I were to be making my nation’s budget based on what I know about Jesus, I’d be cutting spending on violence and war, and increasing spending to help the most vulnerable among us, particularly during a global recession.

*Edited to add: of course I understand that many Evangelicals make care for the poor a private concern, and think that if the Church did its job, the government wouldn’t need to step in. But, when this polling data so clearly demonstrates support for militarism, I have to wonder if the public/private concern is really the issue here, and not just some really whacked out priorities.

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moral foodieism

Anthony Bourdain: the face of immorality in America?

I’m a foodie. To ask B.R. Meyers of The Atlantic, this apparently makes me an immoral hedonist, whose insatiable appetite for food and pleasure and elitism will be the downfall of our civilization (seriously, he references the fall of the Roman empire and manages to blame it on food).

Meyers’ piece reads like a particularly strident sermon against what he sees as gluttony, and he lumps a wide variety of people together in order to make his case against the immorality of people who dare to enjoy their food. What do Anthony Bourdain and Michael Pollan have in common? I like both, and both think people should cook more and enjoy food more, but they have pretty different food philosophies. Bourdain probably does fall closest to Meyers’ hedonist vision of a foodie, being a big fan of pork products of all sorts, and unafraid to eat even the nastiest bits of an animal in his worldwide quest for good food on his Travel Channel show. He’s sort of like the Dr. House of food: abrasive, provocative, selfish–he’s doing it on purpose to get a rise out of people like Meyers. But as a longtime fan of Bourdain’s, I think he’s really a softie. He gets off on the kindness and similarities of people all over the world as much as he does a greasy pile of pork, and he’s so very genuinely warm with even the poorest folks who share meals with him on his travels. Sure, he’s known for his profanity-filled bestsellers about the food industry, but he’s a secret softie.

Pollan, on the other hand, comes at foodie-ism from an environmentalist point of view. His mantra, “eat food, not too much, mostly plants” is about a more sustainable way of eating, not dependent on industrial farming and emissions-causing shipping of food around the world. The “not too much” part flies directly in the face of Meyers’ anti-glutton arguments. Pollan does a lot of advocacy work for things like organic and small farms, and he’s educated a lot of people through his involvement with the movie “Food Inc.,” which personally changed my life and my relationship with food. I’d put him in a category with someone like Mark Bittman, New York Times food writer and author of some of my favorite cookbooks (the Food Matters Cookbook and How to Cook Everything Vegetarian), who advocates a “less meat-arian” diet that is better for our health and for the planet. I wouldn’t put either of them in a category with Anthony Bourdain.

Meyers also seems to think that people who really care about and enjoy their food are simply elitists pursuing physical pleasure rather than people trying to live out deeply held convictions in their daily lives. For one thing, I’m not so sure there’s anything wrong with flat out enjoying food. Being able to taste is a miracle and a gift. That we can take pleasure as we must take sustenance is a wonderful thing. Enjoying the blessings of food is a way of being thankful for it. I’m personally a “foodie” because I care deeply about my impact on the environment, the treatment of animals and workers, the way my eating affects global hunger, and the way my eating affects the health of my community’s economy and my own body. I try to eat less meat, more local organic produce, and to avoid all processed foods. And I love every bite.

Supposedly Meyers is a vegan and has a problem with meat eating in general, and that’s part of his issue with Bourdain. I can respect that. But while I may in fact be drawn toward vegetarianism myself, you aren’t going to win me, or many people, to veganism by suggesting that it’s immoral to really enjoy food. Come to our side! We don’t enjoy our food! Come not enjoy it with us! Why not illustrate that there is pleasure to be had in a deliciously prepared vegetarian dish? What would be wrong with enjoying a perfectly prepared piece of produce?

Are there foodie elitists? Sure. I’m not sure Bourdain is one of them– he’s as likely to eat at a street cart as he is at Le Bernadin. I’m not sure Pollan is either, since one of his major areas of activism is getting people access to fresh, healthy, whole food. And my food hero, Mark Bittman, points out that 90% of Americans own a car and spend an average of 30+ hours a week watching television, so acquiring healthy food and cooking it at home is actually achievable for a large chunk of us.

To me, food is sort of the opposite of elitism, because it’s about sharing. Meals bring people around a table together. They facilitate conversation and understanding and connection. People who are really excited about food want to share those experiences with others–to say “you have GOT to try this,” rather than keeping the experience locked away for only a privileged few. Real foodies have a curiosity about other food cultures, and an interest in reaching out and having new experiences, even if it’s just trying some new and weird looking vegetable that suddenly showed up in a CSA box.

Finally: who is the real elitist? Someone who cares passionately about food (much like others who care passionately about their hobbies and interests), or Meyers himself? Many times in the article, he suggests that people who care a lot about food don’t devote much time to what he believes are higher pursuits, for example:

Needless to say, no one shows much interest in literature or the arts—the real arts. When Marcel Proust’s name pops up, you know you’re just going to hear about that damned madeleine again.

I mean, the guy in the effing Atlantic quoting Roman historians and referencing Proust can hardly be calling OTHERS out on their elitism, for one thing. For another: you don’t have to choose between the stomach and the mind. Mr. Meyers: I’m a budding foodie and a home-cooking hobbyist. I’m also pursuing a graduate degree in English Literature and hope to be a professor one day. I’m just sayin’, one can love both food and the great thinkers and their great thoughts.

Ultimately, Meyers’ piece comes off as a particularly whiny rant about some people he seems to just not like. He seems particularly bothered by some of the foodies’ use of the f-word and likes to quote them using it, I guess in an attempt to point out that these hedonists use appallingly coarse language and further underline their supposed amorality. And yet, Meyers doesn’t offer an alternative. I can see how he might criticize Bourdain’s meat-fest gluttony, but I really don’t get what his issue with Pollan is. How DOES he think Americans should eat? What exactly is the problem with trying to eat in a way that corresponds to one’s values (Meyers seems to have no problem with people who keep kosher, for example) and enjoying it along the way? What’s so immoral about caring about how my chicken was raised, and how the farmer who raised it was compensated, and how the workers who slaughtered and packaged it were treated, and how much gas was used to get it to me?

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wearing ugliness

ugly doll. Image via Flickr user walknboston under a Creative Commons license.

I have to confess: until The Bluest Eye was assigned for one of my classes this term, I had never read any Toni Morrison. And WOW. She’s amazing. Her prose is amazing. I can’t get over it. I’m so glad Beloved is also on my comps reading list.

I just finished The Bluest Eye and one of the things that stuck out to me is the theme of beauty vs. ugliness. Now, of course, I have to preface this by saying that race and socioeconomic status play huge roles in this theme throughout the book. I am a person of racial and socioeconomic privilege, and I do understand that I cannot fully relate to the characters in the book, but, who really can fully relate to the experience of another, ever?

Anyway, one passage just so aptly described what I KNOW to be true that I have to share it. It’s describing a family that everyone perceives as ugly:

You looked closely at them and wondered why they were so ugly; you looked closely and could not find the source. Then you realized that it came from conviction, their conviction. It was as though some mysterious all-knowing master had given each of them a cloak of ugliness to wear, and they had each accepted it without question. The master had said, “You are ugly people.” They had looked about themselves and saw nothing to contradict the statement; saw, in fact, support for it leaning at them from every billboard, every movie, every glance. “Yes,” they had said. “You are right.” And they took the ugliness in their hands, threw it as a mantle over them, and went about the world with it.

I feel like society hands women ugliness every day. It’s the message leering at us from the billboards and movies and magazines full of women who literally do not exist. They have been created in Photoshop and through lighting and makeup and editing and styling to become fictional representations of all that we are not. And these mirages reach out to us and hand us ugliness. They tell us we can be them, if we use the right skin cream, have the proper surgical procedures, wear the right clothes, follow the right diet, but they can’t even be them. They don’t even exist.

Another passage describes a character who comes to believe she is ugly in comparison to the women she sees in movies, women like Jean Harlow. Worse than judging herself, she judges her own daughter by that standard of beauty. She hands her own daughter ugliness:

She was never able, after her education in the movies, to look at a face and not assign it some category in the scale of absolute beauty, and the scale was one she absorbed from the silver screen.

I know so many beautiful women who are utterly convinced that they are ugly. That they are less-than. That they are not worthy. But the truth is, their ugliness doesn’t really exist, not on their faces. It’s just a garment they’ve been handed and they choose to wear it. Eventually it maybe even becomes a part of them, but they weren’t born that way.

Are you wearing ugliness where you should be acknowledging beauty? You don’t have to take it from them when it’s offered, you know.

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I just left Verizon for an AT&T iPhone

Image via Flickr user smemon87 under a Creative Commons license.

When I first heard that Verizon was getting the iPhone in February, I thought: PERFECT! My 2 year contract with Verizon was up then, and I felt sort of loyal to them after having had Alltel and then Verizon since I got my first cell phone at age 16. After 2 years on a BlackBerry Pearl, I was more than anxious to get a new phone. My BlackBerry Pearl wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t great. It didn’t have enough memory to hold more than a few apps. OK, wait, I forgot about the freezing. It WAS awful. In fact, at least 4 times a day, the stupid phone froze and gave me a spinny hourglass on my screen, at which point I’d have to pull out the battery and restart it. Other times it would randomly turn itself to silent, also requiring a reboot to fix the issue. I had come to hate it with every fiber of my being.

When Verizon announced the iPhone, I figured I’d be one of the first in line. Though I was briefly distracted by a BOGO deal on the top Droid phones, thinking that if I could get two Droid phones for $100 bucks, it would be worth it, that deal expired before our 2 year contract. By the time we were eligible for our upgrade, both Droids and iPhone were looking to cost us $200 each, and at that rate, I’d rather have an iPhone, as I’m a longtime Mac user and prefer the way they work.  I even woke up at 3 am to order iPhones for both my husband and me, at which point, I discovered that, although we already had a smartphone family share plan with unlimited texting, unlimited data, and 500 shared minutes, Verizon wanted to switch us to a different plan, offering basically all of the above except no more unlimited data, for $200 a month, or $70 more than we were already paying. Hell to the no. I may have been bleary eyed at 3 am, and caught up in iPhone fever, but I wasn’t going for that.  It felt like they were trying to dupe us into paying more for the same service, just because they had the iPhone.

My husband did some research and found out that we could get a similar plan from AT&T for only about $150 a month. The choice was easy. Goodbye, Verizon. Hello, AT&T. Today we went to an AT&T store and the employees could not have been nicer or more helpful. They were all very curious about why we’d be leaving Verizon just as our wait for them to get the iPhone was finally over. When we told them Verizon was charging $50 more a month for a similar plan, as well as not offering the discount AT&T gave us because of my husband’s workplace, they laughed and said they’d have to thank Verizon for sending us their way.

Now Jon and I are both in possession of shiny iPhone 4’s. I’m taking suggestions for apps, and already playing more Words with Friends games than I can keep up with. After 2 years with my BlackBerry Pearl, I feel rather like a caveman who was just handed a wheel. WHAT IS THIS MIRACULOUS TECHNOLOGY, AND WHAT DO I DO WITH IT? Typing on the touchscreen is definitely an improvement.

I just wanted to share our story amidst all the hype about Verizon getting the iPhone and talk of people fleeing AT&T for a supposedly better network. Despite having been with Verizon for almost a decade, they thought nothing of jacking up our rates, so we thought nothing of leaving them behind for a better deal.

Now, who’s got tips for a new iPhone user?

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the worst valentine’s gifts ever

This story is sorta like “The Gift of the Magi” if those characters had been sorta jerkish instead of altruistic and self-sacrificing.

Some time before our first Valentine’s Day together (at which point we’d been dating like 8 months), I was hanging out at Jon’s house watching TV when a Hallmark commercial came on. It was advertising whatever their cute plush Valentine stuffed animal was that year. I think I said something like, “Why would a dude EVER get an adult woman a stuffed animal for Valentine’s Day?” Jon’s face fell a little and he said, “You better be careful what you say!”

A few days later, on Valentine’s Day, Jon presented me with the gift he’d already bought *before* we saw that ad: a stuffed animal that looked like a chocolate lab puppy. He reminded me what I’d said, and of course I felt like a jerk. The truth is, I thought the stuffed dog was adorable. I named him Jack, I spritzed him with Jon’s cologne, and I slept with him every night because he smelled like Jon, who at the time was going to school 100 miles from where I was going to school. I still have him and sometimes sleep with him when Jon’s working the night shift.

Maybe a year after that, a few weeks before Valentine’s Day, I noticed that Jon’s wallet was totally falling apart, so I bought him a new one. A few days before V-Day, we were walking through the mall when we passed a special Valentine’s Day wallet display. Jon said something about how wallets are intensely personal and how they get better with age as they conform to the perfect fit for a man’s pocket. My face fell a little.

On Valentine’s Day, a few days later, I presented him with the already purchased wallet and reminded him of what he’d said. I bet he felt a little like a jerk. But the thing is, he liked the wallet. Years later, he’s still carrying it.

These days we don’t give each other gifts at all. It works out better that way.

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current obsessions

I’m not one of those adorable, beautifully photographed lifestyle bloggers with a perfectly curated life. But, I read plenty of those sites, and I secretly love it when people share the pretty things they’re obsessed with. And, in that spirit, thought I’d share some of my current favorite things.

When I was a teen, everyone I knew had a pair of Doc Martens. I *begged* my mother for a pair, but she said they were too expensive for someone whose feet might still be growing and said I could have a pair when my feet stopped growing. Well, my feet haven’t grown since 6th grade, it turns out, and I never got those Docs. Since I recently discovered the flower-printed variety, I think I might need to call in that old promise so I can have a pair of cute ass-kicking shoes. Hey, Mom! My feet stopped growing! Can I have a pair of these?

Don’t you think I need a pair?

Now, we all know that I love my vintage bike. BUT. That doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes window shop for the bike of my dreams, either online or in the fancy new bike shop that just opened near my house. It turns out the bike of my dreams is an Electra Amsterdam. Anyone wanna buy me an $800 bike? That fancy new bike shop sells them! They’re SO pretty, and they’ve got all the things I want in a bike: good looks, multiple gears (this is why I hate cruisers), fenders, chain guards, lights, and racks for baskets and panniers. See:

The other day when I went home for my Lil’est Sister’s 13th birthday, my mom showed me some amazing photos of foxes playing in their back yard. Two of the cutest little foxes you ever did see, just frolicking and playing. Then, this morning, she sent me this gorgeous picture of a fox playing in her newly snowy backyard:

Now I’m obsessed with foxes. And I recently saw a documentary on dogs which featured domesticated foxes. It spurred a new dream: a snuggly pet fox. They’re like the best of both worlds between dogs and cats. But I bet they’re hard to potty train. So, how about some cute fox stuff instead? (each picture links to the Etsy listing for the item)

I vote that we make buffalo the next cute trendy animal. Think it could happen?

What are you obsessed with lately?

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share the love

Preface: I love Valentine’s Day. I don’t love Hallmark Valentine’s Day, where you have to buy schmoopy cards and DeBeers Diamonds and Victoria’s Secret lingerie and 1-800-Flowers red roses by the dozen with a box of Godiva chocolates to boot. What I love is red and pink (two of my favorite colors), construction paper garlands, hearts of all sorts, and general proclamations of affection. Sure, you can do all of this all the other days of the year, and you should, but it’s extra fun in February. In fact, I jumped the gun and rocked a pink sweater, a heart necklace, and red lipstick yesterday. All month, you’ll catch me looking like a living Valentine.

It’s been a while since I did an Etsy roundup, and I thought Valentine’s Day was the appropriate time–might as well put to good use the hours I spend finding beauties on Etsy and adding them to my ever-growing favorites list.

Now, I’m usually of the opinion that the best Valentine is a handmade one. The best Valentine Jon ever gave me, he made of markers and glitter. It was a Simpson’s joke and featured a train and said “I Choo Choo Choose You.” (Get a replica here.) Another time, he decorated a card with a poem from one of my favorite poets, Emily Dickinson. If you’ve got a Valentine, I highly recommend you go the handmade card route.

But if you don’t want to make a card yourself, buy one handmade by someone else! I took the liberty of making you a cool Valentine card shopping guide. Some of these cards are so cool, you could give your sweetheart a frame to go along with it, and he or she could hang it on the wall and enjoy it long after Valentine’s Day. (Click any image to be taken to the seller’s Etsy shop.)

OK, so this one's not frameable, but if you have a ninja wannabe in your life, this card from seller Cookie Bits is a sure hit.
This photo Valentine from seller NomadicNotebook is frame-able for sure.

Continue reading “share the love”

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scenes from the weekend

Friday I spent the entire day in the kitchen preparing food to serve to our homeless neighbors under the Broadway Bridge. While I was cooking, Jon picked up McKinley and took him to get his CDL renewed, FINALLY! Glory, hallelujah, what a hassle, but now he can finally find a job.

That night we served delicious Italian food to a robust crowd, and I also contributed cupcakes as it was our friend John’s birthday. I discovered (by way of the blogosphere), the best way ever to top a cupcake: toasted marshmallows. Way less hassle than frosting. Just pop a marshmallow on top of each of your baked cupcakes and put them back in the 350 degree oven for about 5 minutes. Then pull them out and gently smoosh each marshmallow down over the cupcakes. If you really want the toasty marshmallow flavor, broil them, but keep an eye out not to burn them.

Saturday was GLORIOUS. We went for a little bike ride around the neighborhood to enjoy the cloudless, 70 degree day. It was my first ride with the new panniers I got for my birthday.  I call them my “bike trunk.”

Continue reading “scenes from the weekend”

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my bishes party all night

I think my dogs have become teenagers. Lately, all they want to do is sleep all day and party all night. And it’s driving us crazy.

Bessie.
Olive.

Our dogs sleep on beds on the floor of our bedroom. When they want to wake us up, which until recently was around 7:00 am, they start prancing around the room and banging on the furniture with their tails. I’m sure there are some who might argue they’re not doing the tail percussion on purpose, but I promise, this is intentional. They stand next to our metal bed frame and wag their tails, producing a surprisingly loud “DING! DING! DING!” Lemme tell ya, that will get you up in a hurry.  Lately they’ve been doing this at 2:00 am, demanding to be let out of the bedroom and into the rest of the house, where they engage in such wild behaviors as getting on the furniture (they’re not allowed) and finding things to chew on, like used Kleenex in wastebaskets and the remote for our Xbox and sound system.

NOT ALLOWED!

I watch enough Dog Whisperer to know that he’d tell me my dogs aren’t getting enough activity during the day, so they’re not tired enough to sleep all night. He’d suggest I strap on giant rollerblades and take them for a run every day. Because he obviously wants to kill me.

My solution is less strenuous. I simply keep the bedroom door closed during the day, so the dogs can’t nap in their beds all day long. Now, they begrudgingly nap on the living room rug, but they don’t sleep as soundly, because every time I leave the room, they have to get up and make sure that I’m not planning on feeding them or something. They also spend more time playing with their toys and each other, and, we’ve found we like the added benefit of having them hanging out in the same room with us, rather than dreaming sweet puppy dreams in their beds. Now they’re waking up at 6:00, instead of 2:00, which is a real improvement. Just call me the Dog Whisperer for lazy people.

The only acceptable place for daytime dog napping. Olive is snuggling with Bessie against her will. Bessie does not like to snuggle, but Olive looooooves it.