Thursday, January 31, 2008

Kids: Love Them, But Sometimes Leave Them

There's a conversation going on over at Her Bad Mother that--how can I put this politely--bothers me. It bothers me so much that I can't keep out of it, and since I can't go on forever commenting on her site, I thought I'd bring it over here and see what you all think.

HBM begins the conversation like this:
Here's something that I feel strongly about: the right of parents to take their children pretty much anywhere in the public sphere that they see fit. I also feel strongly that this is a right that carries with it considerable responsibility - as do most rights - but there it is: I believe that if a parent needs or wants to take their children to the theater, to nice hotels, to restaurants that don't use vinyl tablecloths or distribute crayons with their menus, that's their right. Any perceived right by other members of the public to move about in public without exposure to children is just that: perceived. There can be no such right in a liberal human society, because children are members of such societies.
You can read the entire post plus all the comments, mine included, here. The gist of it is that HBM had several unpleasant and/or unhappy experiences when she was with her daughter recently. One was on an airplane when another traveler refused to respond to the toddler and shot her some nasty looks. The other was at breakfast in a fancy restaurant when the hostess evinced some panic, albeit unspoken, at the sight of the small child toddling in. These events, and the feelings they evoked in HBM, led to her post.

Okay? Okay. First of all--my disclaimers: I have spent much time in all sorts of restaurants with all sorts of small children of all ages. These kids were all related to me; I loved them and I loved the fact that they were with me in said restaurant.

However, I feel equally strongly to HBM that parents do NOT have the right to take their children anywhere in the public sphere that they wish. That does not mean I don't like children. It does not mean I don't agree that they profit, as does ultimately our society, by being included in a wide range of activities. What it means is that I don't think they are appropriately included in any and every activity.

Case in point: This past weekend, I was involved in an organization honoring a group of womenat a country club luncheon . One member of the organization wanted to bring her 3 year old. Her mother was coming and this member like the idea of three generations being present. We said no. "That's a terrific idea in a couple of years, when she's five and can sit through an hour of speeches. But right now, she's too young. It would not be fair to the several hundred women who paid quite a bit of money to attend an adult luncheon."

The idea that babies and small children have full and equal access to the public sphere because they are human is--I dunno--based on some social philosophy that doesn't resonate with me. The idea that full grown citizens have no right to enjoy child-free arenas is--I dunno--nuts. What have we come to when the desires of one group, the parents, supersedes that of all others. It's smacks of the Mommy Gestapo.

Okay, that's extremely harsh, but really, Moms: get a grip. The world at large does not begin and end with your child, even if yours does. We can all love children (or not) without wanting to have them around 24/7.

Perhaps this debate and others like it that roil the feminist movement occur when groups of women get polarized around their individual philosophies about children. It's a spectrum of beliefs we have, from the woman who is totally and completely invested in her maternity and her children to the woman who has made the decision not to have children. Getting stuck into one end of a debate, whichever it is, helps neither individuals nor society, and those in the middle get lost in the totalizing shrieks of each end. Not only is reason abandoned in the need to be right, quite frankly, it's not very sisterly.


Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Tomato, Tomahto, and Spotted Dick

Whit over at Honea Express is celebrating the joys of an English gastronomical adventure today; he's having some Spotted Dick that a friend sent him. Reading his post, seeing the kick he got out of what is to the Brits just your average tea time sweet took me back to the days when I had just returned to America from London. The dumbest turn of phrase then could bring down the house , and I used to be very proud of the fact that I spoke both American and English English. And that I knew the difference. Now? Not so much, I would think. Does one order a Milky Coffee at the Starbucks in England, or is it now just another Grande Drip with Room for Cream. And the cream--is it Top of the Milk or boring American style Half & Half? I guess not only the milk is homogenized these days, but the entire world as well. That makes me sad--sorta.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

So it's 11:11 and I can tell I'm giddier than a rattlesnake with a toothache.

I spent the working hours of tonight coaching a group of parents trying to find the magic button that will turn their teens into proper, respectful, God-fearing American citizens. It ain't happening, people, is what I want to tell them. I am probably older than every one of them so why am I having to say over and over again: don't you remember what it was like? don't you remember how you felt? Some of them do remember and they're the ones whose kids will probably end up okay--after some period of drugs, alcohol and illicit sex (don't you remember what it was like?). The kids I fear for are those whose parents refuse to remember, who have come to me to Fix The Kid--or else. I have little patience for these parents, which is not such a good thing affecting as it does my empathy, which is, as we all know, the bottom line of any good shrink. But then, I'm still just a shrink-intern, so maybe my patience will gather moss as I gather hours.

See, you can tell by the utter what-the-fuck-is-she-talking-about of that last sentence that I'm giddy.

Monday, January 28, 2008

Memory

I forget the things I know. Does that ever happen to you? The things I really need to keep in front of me, the realizations that are hard-won and long-coming, and I have them and know them and then--poof!--gone. Except that somewhere, hiding out under the back porch is the slightest sense that I'm missing something important, something that will make such a difference in how I see things and feel about things. Something that is crucial to my moving onward. But I don't know what it is. Or where to look to find it.

Like this: Everything Does Not Have To Become Something. Does that make any sense? Let me give you some background, then. I come from a family of strivers and doers and use-your-talents to-the-utmosters. In my family, if you could carry a tune, you took voice lessons and plotted your course as a singer. If you could draw, then obviously you'd become an artist. Have an idea? Get it patented; put it into action; create success around it; do; achieve. Even now, I can hear my mother and my aunts and my cousins scheming: Janie dear, you're so good at X, Y, and Z. You must become an Xer, a Yer, and a Zer. One couldn't simply have an idea that was "good"; it had to be actualized. One couldn't simply be; one had to become. I learned those lessons better than well, and it's now an automatic response for me to, as soon as I get a cool idea or an urge or a notion, figure out how to maximize it. Which is not only exhausting, but just plain wrong. It puts the emphasis on the product at the expense of the process even as it sets me up for failure.

I realized that a while ago, and immediately knew it was a crucial piece of information for me. And then I forgot it.

Did I forget it because it was so crucial? The urge to inadequacy is quite strong, and the mind has a way of getting its way.

Last night, I remembered it. And thought: I can't forget this again; it's too important. If only I did needlepoint, I could stitch it on a pillow. Instead, I'm writing it here.

Will I remember that I've done that?

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Facing West - late winter, 2007








This is what I saw looking out my back door last April and early May. They were all taken a few minutes before or a few minutes after six p.m.

Saturday, January 26, 2008

Here She Comes...

When I was a kid, watching the Miss America contest was right up there with watching the Oscars. Yeah, it's been a joke all these years since, but I was willing to see if they could actually make it more relevant and contemporary and all those other things that they've been advertising. I watched the Miss America Reality Check where the judges were trying to get the women to lose the makeup and the hair spray--and they did for that show, pretty much. In the ads for the actual contest, you could see that we were supposed to think of Miss America as another American Idol or Dancing With The Stars. But someone forgot to tell the organizers of the state competitions, because by and large what they've put in front of us would be sneered off the stage by the likes of Cowell and Bruno. In the talent competition, there was only ONE contestant that was remotely 21st century. The others were ballet dancers (make that mediocre ballet dancers) opera singers, and a violinist, who wasn't bad but what do I know about violin playing?

I've been live Twittering the finals, so if you want to see my scoop, eyes right:

Friday, January 25, 2008

Interview With A Blogger: Me!

Herein forthwith follows the interview that Whoorl dreamt up for me as part of Citizen of the Month's Interview challenge. Whoorl's questions are in purple, the choice of color being mine, for no reason whatsoever.

If you were forced to blog about one (and only one) subject, what would it be?
ME! I know what Whoorl's trying to do, get me to focus on that one thing that stands between me and success: my inability to focus on one topic. But I can't. Don't you think I want to? Nor can I, it seems, professionalize this blog. That was my intention, and I did, in pursuing it, pay lots of money to go to BlogHer. But whatever they were selling doesn't seem to have taken with me. Maybe I'm just not cool enough or young enough or or--maybe I just don't care enough. I dunno. I see people to-ing and fro-ing with their blogs and pitching for blog awards and doing all this stuff that seems so incredibly "high school" to me. I simply can't sustain it.

What is your beverage of choice?
It depends upon the time I am choosing. In the morning, I’m a coffee-drinkin’ girl. I like it strong, full-bodied and rich, tasting like coffee, dammit. Come afternoon, I switch to Diet Coke, out of the can. Come evening, I prefer l'eau de potato, Russian preferably, over rocks with a twist. Stoly...Grey Goose. Or a Gin Martini (is there any other kind?) straight up with 3 olives. What I don't like are frou frou drinks: all those Tinis they've created to give people something sweet and sickly to get them gassed. Sissies.

Tell me why Northern California is a lovely place to live.
Who said it was? Not me. I've lived all over--here, there, and everywhere--and what I've learned is that every place and no place is lovely to live in. I'm here because my SoonTBX wanted to move here. Okay, okay, I wasn't exactly tied up and shipped to Sacramento, but if it hadn't been for his gentle urging, which manifested as constant whining and complaining and a pervasively permanent bad mood, I would still be living in LA. And probably right now my roof would be leaking because they're having terrible rains down there and that's what my roof did when it rained. Instead I am up here, sealed in tight, warm and dry in this wasteland called Elk Grove. And my SoonTBX is living elsewhere. And his roof is leaking. Ha! Karma!

Who is your favorite author?
Doing the coursework for a PhD in English Lit sort of ruined reading novels for me. Once you learn how to deconstruct a text, there's no going back to just reading for pleasure. When I did my MA, I did it in Southern Lit, and then Faulkner was my favorite. When I started my PhD, I thought I'd be an "Austen scholar" (la-de-dah), but my professor was insane and that sadly tinged my doctoral work with intense nutsiness. I haven't read Austen since I didn't have to, and I'm certainly not watching Austen month on PBS. Jane would be appalled.


What would your friends say is your most charming quality? Most annoying?
Oh, jeeze, I haven't a clue what they'd say is my most charming quality. Truth be told, I don't think of myself as one who could ever be labeled charming. I don't crook my little finger when I drink tea and although my manners are passable, I don't think the Vanderbilt's will be inviting me to join the cotillion. I will say that when I saw the film Steel Magnolias, I recognized a quality in the Shirley McLaine character that made me say, "that's what I'm going to be like when I grow up." And I believe I am, for good or ill.

That I speaketh the truth, even when I probably shouldn't is probably my most annoying quality. And that I speak it as if my truth is The Truth can and does create some moments of angst for those around me. I'm working on that, though, because I really don't believe in an Essential Truth, so to sound as if I do is antithetical to...to...my truth.

In 2006, you mentioned wanting to "be more present in you life". Do you feel you have accomplished this goal?
I am more present in my life, but it's an ongoing goal which I don't believe one ever accomplishes. I'm just starting out with little baby steps and lots of backsliding and falling down and smashing my nose flat. But one of the ways in which I have gotten better relates to the first question. I'm somewhere in the middle of working my way through the bullshit of being A Blogger. I am trying to quell all urges to write to please an audience. I am trying to at the least be true to me in this thing I do.

Thursday, January 24, 2008

The Things She Left Behind

1. An almost empty jar of crunchy peanut butter with a spoon jammed in the bottom.

2. Two pieces from a 100-piece jigsaw puzzle that Santa brought her for Christmas. She'll be sorry if or when she tries to put it together.

3. Her cold.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Up & Coming: as in Coming Up

Here's what y'all have to look forward to in the very near future:
  • One interview with Akaky Bashmachkin. Who? Don't ask me--yet. Why? Neilochka has an interview meme thing going. I signed up. Akaky signed up after me. Whoorl signed up before me. So Whoorl interviews me and I interview Akaky. She's already got her questions posted. I am still doing research (as in, where was that site again & what's it about?). I'm not really sure how this will work as the instructions are relatively vague. But when I find out, you'll find out.
  • A book review. Hungry Hill, by Carole O'Malley Gaunt. Pretty damn good. But I'll have more to say about it tomorrow. Or the next day. I have been realllllllllly busy, and that pisses me off.
  • More babbling, blathering and...and....what's another 'b' word--ah, bitching.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Rainy Day Blues, by Molly

Oh I'ma stuck out here in the mizzzerablest weather...
Help me, Lord...I say, help me!
'Cause I been a good doogggiiiee
But whoda knew it from the way them drops do rain down...
Oh, help me Lord...I say, help me...
Ain't my fault if I can't pee when the sun don't shine.
Ain't my fault if my poop won't plop 'cept on sunny days.
Oh, help me Lord...I say, help me, Lord....I say, help this poor sinner stay dry-eeeee!

--words and music by Anonymous

Monday, January 21, 2008

My Brain, On and Off Drugs

It is a very good thing I have this blog, because I don't have a fully operating brain. To wit: in yesterday's mail (okay, yesterday was Sunday, so it was Saturday, so sue me for the wrong day), I received the latest issue of Wired magazine. Dammit, I says to myself, didn't I cancel that sub? Did they send me the latest issue figuring I'd pay up without thinking? Cheeky bastards, those Conde Nast people.

But then I got to thinking. Did I cancel that sub? I remember thinking about cancelling it. I remember spending some if not much time considering cancelling it. But do I remember cancelling it????????????????????

Hmmmmmmmmm.

Then today, whilst perusing my list of blog posts looking for a likely draft that I could finish off and send for today's Blog365 entry, I came across this.

Karl Rove may have been Bush's brain, but ByJane is mine--or something like that.

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Portrait of a Third Generation Couch Potato, Enjoying Sunday

This is Kaitlyn, aged 5, who is visiting me this weekend. We've had a long day already: up at 6:30 (I tried to tell her it was still nighttime), baking cookies at 10, and my plans for the rest of today were to go to the bookstore where Kaitlyn would--yeah!--get to select a book that we'd bring home. And after her bath, in the soaking tub, we'd read and then sleep. Noooooooooooooooooo. She knows exactly what she wants to do and not. And today, "watch cartoons" and sit on the sofa wrapped in a comforter was it. Oh, and there's a fire going.

Her grandfather came over, brought us lunch, visited with her for a while, and DID HIS LAUNDRY! Sheesh! Am I nuts that I think this is funny, not annoying????

When he left, I sent Molly with him. Kaitlyn is a tad over-exuberant when it comes to Molly. Watching the two of them last night, I kept thinking about how Dooce writes that Leta gets upset if Chuck looks at her. Well, Molly knows just how Leta feels. And Kaitlyn can't resist grabbing and groping and patting and forever "where's Molly?????" She's under the bed, kid, hiding from you. Okay, I put it much nicer than that. I worked a little empathy training in--you know how you feel when some big person you don't know comes over and grabs you to kiss you? But I finally decided that my dog, at least, deserved a decent night's sleep. I, on the other hand, expect another night of snoring and leg-jerking and sideways bed sleeping, just like her grandfather used to do, back in the day.

Saturday, January 19, 2008

BS, pure and simple

That's all you're getting tonight, because that's all I have to give. This is, was, and I guess will always be my MO: ten past eleven, 12 is the deadline, and I have nothing of note or worth to say. Did I become a journalist because I work to deadline? Or do I work to deadline because I was a journalist?

Friday, January 18, 2008

These are a few of my favorite things....tra la






Just some of the projects I have on needles at the moment. Note how many of them are fingering yarn. Remember what I told you about fingering yarn...and the size 1 or 2 needles. What does it say about me that I love this stuff and these needles and I AM INCAPABLE OF SUSTAINING INTEREST IN ANYTHING THAT TAKES MORE THAN 3 days? Do you think I am setting myself up for failure? Or, am I just trying to challenge myself, to move beyond my comfort zone--as I'm doing with this Blog 365? Pro or con, answer as you will, making sure to support all of your points with specifics. And no comma splices, goddamit!

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Pa Joad Left Last Night

Tied his mattress to the top of his vehicle and lit out for parts north, Yuba City to be exact, where he is now a proud homeowner.

You did know that he's been here all this time, didn't you? Through Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's...he's been my "tenant." Paying rent. Sleeping in the guest room. Taking the garbage cans out every Sunday, but doing the dishes far less than he used to (in the short time he was in Oregon, he developed a cute habit of just leaving his empty plate sitting on the table-- waiting for Mable to come clear the dishes, I guess). We generally ate dinner together, either of my making or his gathering, and breakfast was ALWAYS a Starbucks and scone (well, it still is, but now I have to go and get it myself, gosh darn it). We coordinated our lives and lived as--well, really as we always did. Which is telling, I'm sure.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Facing West:


Facing West: 1/5/08
Originally uploaded by ByJane
The western sky from my backyard is glorious, particularly in the late afternoon. I've taken photos of it before, because it really moves me. This year I'm going to do a series, standing in the same place, aiming at the same point, not daily, but regularly. I'm curious about what a series will show.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Redondo Beach Pier - Clams for sale


Here's the photo. I took it one day last winter when I was at the Pier with my nephew-in-law. I used my Treo, so no fancy lenses or f-stops. But that's maybe the charm of the picture.

Monday, January 14, 2008

Schmap

I've got a new widget on my blog: it's the latest Schmap Los Angeles. The 4th Edition, to be exact. Schmaps are these incredible on-line, interactive travel guides from major cities all over the world.
I've got the widget because Schmap Los Angeles has chosen a photo of mine to feature the Redondo Beach Pier. Go have a look. I'm real proud.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

The Golden Globes

So I did my bit for Hollywood and NBC and watched Dateline. Maybe I'll check out the press conference; maybe not. I'm on strike, after all.

Speaking of globes, have you heard about the newest import from India? It's a car called a Tata. Did no one tell the Indians that tatas are boobs? Yes, yes, I know the car was named after the guy who created it, Mr. Tata--but still, if Henry Ford had been Henry Breast, whatever would he have called his car? Mr. Tata and the Tata.

I'm really looking forward to the advertising campaign on the Tata. Will they have, as usual, buxom beauties hanging over it at the car shows? Or will they just stick a big nipple on the hood?

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Calling All Tattoo Artists!

I wanna get a tattoo--on my finger. Third finger, left hand: to cover the indentation left by twenty years of wearing a wedding ring. I hate anything cute...no flowers or bugs either. Get creative, get artsy, get weird and wild. Surprise me!