Whether The Stone Hits The Pitcher......

Well, I was going to write a lighthearted, self indulgent blog when the weather began to unravel. Sirens went off, but they were only for severe storms, not tornadoes. Still, the house was shaking  from the thunder and the lightening was lighting up the sky much too often for comfort. I finally gave up and went upstairs where I could watch non-stop radar loops on the tube from under the covers. 

That's the thing about living on the tundra also known as Minnesota: the weather is frickin' relentless. We rarely catch a break. Either it's dry, frigid -20°F  or it's +95°F with a dew point over 70°...which means you walk outside and your bone straight hair frizzes into a perfectly natural Afro and any article of clothing is suddenly sticking to your body. And then it just stays like that. Doesn't snow, doesn't rain. It just stays extreme. It can be too cold to snow....and too hot to rain. No matter what the season, Xcel Energy has its hand deep in your pocket. You're either shelling out to keep the house above 60°F in the winter or below 80°F in the summer. You know how that works: heads they win, tails you lose. 

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...the elections are over in Egypt and gone is the lighthearted blog.

Alexandria - before the election

As I predicted over a year ago, the Muslim Brotherhood now has a president elect. However, before you get too excited, right before the election, the military junta running the country removed the military and the defense minister from presidential oversight and authority, at the same time Maj. Gen. Mamdouh Shahin told the populace, "Trust the armed forces. We don't want power."

They don't want power the same way I don't want a Ba-Tampte half-sour pickle when I get home from work. 

What choice did the citizens of Egypt have anyway?  An old Murbarak crony versus a member of the Muslim Brotherhood? Is that what they wanted back in Tahrir Square? Seems to me lots of folks thought they were having some kind of Arab spring that would catapult them into the 21st century. But the delicate shell of freedom being formed has already been hoisted up as some kind of political piñata just waiting to be smashed. 

Early reports are pretty much guaranteeing that there won't be much change. The junta that is asking for the trust of the Egyptian people are the same guys that declared parliament unconstitutional the week before elections, thereby insuring there would be immediate unrest. They're also not turning over that power they don't want to the new president. So what's he president of, exactly? And now that the Brotherhood is holding the top spot and a significant majority of the seats in the now unconstitutional parliament, anybody wanna bet on how long before women are required to wear headscarves and their jobs are "reassigned" to "better qualified" men? 

To date, the world has yet to see an Islamist government where freedom trumps power. While there is definitely progress in places like Jordan, it's only by the grace of a King and Queen who think outside the box on almost everything...and pay the price at home for that thinking. And even in Tahrir Square a year and a half ago, while freedom was being proclaimed and a government was being toppled, women without headscarves were attacked physically. Remember Lara Logan? That, folks, was a warning shot.

I truly wish the Egyptians fighting for a place in the 21^st century great good luck and good fortune.  Nothing could be better than to hear that they’ve put in place a government that is for the people and by the people. At this time, however, it doesn’t look real good for the pitcher. 

And on that happy note, the weather warnings have just started up again. Time to shut down and watch the radar from the safety of my bed!

The Wifely Person Tip o’ the Week

Whether the stone hits the pitcher, or the pitcher hits the stone,

It’s going to be bad for the pitcher.

Don Quixote to Sancho Panza

Don Quixote 

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

Happy 100th Blog! ...Now, Get Over Yerself!

I knew this day was coming, but I almost missed it. Had I not had to send my mother yet another copy of the blog (she doesn't do links in email) I might not have noticed that this week is my 100th blog entry.

Now, if Ziggy was here, he would throw his hands up for the happy dance and shout, "It's time for HOW TO TELL A JOKE!" and rerun that warhorse. People still write to me about that column...so if you're of a mind, you can read it for yourself. 

However, these days there are bigger jokes to fry, and you can start with the Wisconsin recall election. To be sure, Governor Walker spit on a good chunk of Wisconsin's population and probably deserves not to be re-elected, and the process of getting the recall was pretty intense. But the recall failed and I can’t say I’m too surprised.

Recalls are for criminal actions, not for political disagreements, and had the recall succeeded, it may have set a precedent for "no confidence" elections, something we don't have in the States. In an exit interview, a woman from Madison said she was about as leftist as they came, and that she detested Governor Walker's politics and policies, but she was compelled to vote to keep him in office because she was afraid of the consequences. “If this thing succeeds, we will have one recall after another." The Republicans, she asserted, will make it frivolous, "like law suits."

Which brings me to the second item of interest: why a recall? Why not impeachment? Wouldn't that at least bring the topic of malfeasance to the table? Malfeasance is a serious charge, one that requires hostile actions with the intent to injure, if not the client in this case, the constituency. The crime currently under investigation has to do with the governor's pre-election campaign fundraising where he is not the target of the investigation, but his reluctance to release possibly damaging emails has created an atmosphere of mistrust. But is that an impeachable offense?

Now all things considered, I'm pretty much left of center myself. Not nearly as left as certain children would like to believe, but left enough to still believe in social justice. And no, I don't like Scott Walker and his underhanded policies. For the record, I do not live, vote, or work in Wisconsin, but they are the next door neighbors and what happens in their state inevitably impacts what happens here. (That and I have a kid in Milwaukee who can't get health insurance even though he works full time...but that's a whole 'nother blog.) 

I am not surprised Governor Walker survived the recall; while it was a passionate outcry, it was not well thought out. It was started in the heat of the moment, and the reality of what a disagreement recall would yield was not well considered. Still, the movement had merit. It rattled more than a few birdcages. And, just one seat changed hands in the legislature and that totally changed the balance of power to the Dems.

The success of the recall process was a strong indicator that the public is not standing idly by. Even if he was not unseated, there was a very clear message sent: that this is not the last time this will be tried. It behooves guys like Governor Walker to take that new conciliatory tone a bit more to heart.  Not that he will.

The Winkle In Wisconsin stands in stark and scary contrast to what is happening in Egypt. The Tahrir Square revolutionaries toppled the government...as many would've liked to have done in Wisconsin… but unlike Wisconsin, they did not have a plan of succession. And now that election day has come, they have put forward no viable candidates...at least no viable enough to survive the preliminary rounds. Tom Friedman's June 8th column in the New York Times indicates that he's surprised by what's happening now, but I find that disingenuous. How could he be surprised? The Kids in the Square were too busy tweeting to Google instructions for How To Run A County....which got me over 572,000 results.

It wasn't that they didn't know how to ask the question; it was that they didn't know how to think beyond the question.

Perhaps equally important: do we?

The Wifely Person’s Tip o’the Week

If you happen to be an incoming freshman at Hudson High School

Shock your teachers ~ come prepared to think OUTSIDE the box ~

prove that if you were going to topple a government, 
you’d know how to replace it. 

Roast Fingers - It's What's For Dinner!

Just about 35 years ago, a few weeks before I got married, I was making a "congratulations to us" dinner for my two best friends, Jann and Diane, and me as we were about to get our Master of Fine Arts degrees from the University of Minnesota. Veal Piccata was on the menu and I was happily sauteing the veal when it spattered...catching me on the inside of the wrist. By the next morning it was pretty clear it was pretty bad and Steve dragged me to the health service where my second degree burn was duly popped, cleansed, creamed, and bandaged. 

The next day I left for New York and first on the agenda was a wedding dress fitting. When  the nice ladies were helping me with my sleeve buttons, they noticed the thick bandage cuff. Oh, did they look at me with alarm! No, I explained, it wasn't that; it was grease. I'm not sure they believed me, but they treated me with kid gloves for the rest of the fitting. 

The morning after our wedding, Steve and I returned to the family manse for the requisite "out-of-towners" brunch, and my brand new hubby asked me to touch up his shirt since it had been squashed in the suitcase. Not wanting to bother with the big board that routinely ate my fingers, I put the little one on the floor of the den, started ironing with mom's heavy ol' 1940s behemoth...and promptly ironed my ankle. Steve insisted this was my way of proving I couldn't handle anything hot; my ironing days were, for a very long time, over. 

If Steve were here, he could tell you the story of my kitchen life by narrating the burn scars on my hands, arms, and even the one ankle. Let's suffice it to say there is always a supply of burn pads and a bottle of "New Skin" in the kitchen cupboard. If I had a buck for each "when are you gonna figure out yer hands are NOT made of asbestos?" conversations we had over the years, I'd be a very rich woman.

Well, this is one of those weeks when missing Steve is front and center. The counting of the omer is over, and then it's nine days to his yahrzeit. In shul on Shabbat, I went up for the 8th aliyah, the one for those marking a yahrzeit in the week to come. I happen to share this aliyah with several good friends who lost close relatives this same week, and they literally had my back... and kept me upright. Time seems to have passed in a flash, yet it seems forever since I held his hand in mine. Someone once told me that's the rubberband effect. Whatever.

So even for being a bit disconnected and distracted, I managed to mow the lawn, do laundry, and check off the rest of my usual Sunday stuff. I opted to make the easiest dinner possible:  a London broil on the grill. Moving between the rice on the stove and the steak, I was clearly on autopilot. At one point, I went out, raised the lid and turned the steak. There was a helicopter doing a flyby over the pond, so I was watching it, not my hand, and instead of grabbing the handle, I grabbed the lid.

Looking good...but hurting a lot

OWIE OWIE OWIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I scampered in the house and ran the faucet full blast cold on my fried fingertips. The wrap-able ice pack was right in its place in the freezer (Steve gave it its very own permanent position so I would always know where to find it) and I wrapped it around my hand. Seems most of the damage was mitigated by swift action...born out of practice as much as screaming pain. And there, my hand encased in ice pack, I could hear him: "JESUS H. CHRIST ON ROLLER SKATES, SUE! Could you possibly watch what you're doing ???????????????"

And suddenly I didn't feel the fingers so much. 

Looking down on me

It might sound silly, but it was the sound of his voice in my head that made me stop. It was as if I needed to hear him chide me about not paying closer attention to what I was doing. I wanted to hear him say, "Unscrew you hand and give it to me," as he dragged me to the closest natural light source. "Aw, you'll live," he would say as he would start cutting the burn pad into appropriately sized pieces. And then he would grumble, "Cheap way to get me to do the dishes," with a silly, lopsided grin...even though he would've done them anyway.

Tuesday night I will light a yahrzeit candle, and the boys will each light one in their homes. We really don't need the candle to remember that he left us 3 years ago on the 16th day of Sivan. But for 24 hours, there will be little flickers reminding anyone who happens to see them that he was here. And he is missed.

The Wifely Person's Tip o'the Week

Remember to say hello to widows once in a while;

no one likes to be invisible all of the time. 

Giant Memorial Day Blowout Bargains!

Melanie had also been made secretary for both the Association for the Beautification of the Graves of Our Glorious Dead and the Sewing Circle for the Widows and Orphans of the Confederacy. This new honor came to her after an exciting joint meeting of those societies which threatened to end in violence and the severance of lifelong ties of friendship. The question had arisen at the meeting as to whether or not weeds should be removed from the graves of the Union soldiers near those of Confederate soldiers. The appearance of the scraggly Yankee mounds defeated all the efforts of the ladies to beautify those of their own dead. Immediately the fires which smoldered beneath tight basques flamed wildly and the two organizations split up and glared hostilely. The Sewing Circle was in favor of the removal of the weeds, the Ladies of the Beautification were violently opposed .

GONE WITH THE WIND

Margaret Mitchell

The first time I read GWTW, I was mesmerized by the name “Association for the Beautification of the Graves of Our Glorious Dead.” It was so evocative, so rich in subtext, so noble, and so…so…so Southern. I was enraptured of the idea that one could have Glorious Dead. And that ladies could fight to a less glorious death over weeding was positively beyond my scope of comprehension.

Fast forward a few decades and suddenly, the dead aren’t so glorious and in fact, they seem to have even lost their gloriousness for Memorial Day. Yes, there are parades and flags are set out in local cemeteries, but for every person who stops to observe the solemnity of the day, there are a dozen who are out scouting the local sales for Memorial Day Blowout Bargains! Bunting now decorates adverts and store signs, and speeches are presented as sound bites on the evening news.

Memorial Day is a fine idea. It was meant to be a day of reflection and appreciation; a day when we pause to recall those who put their lives on the line out of a sense of duty and honor. Even if we disagree with why we were in Iraq or in Afghanistan now, it doesn’t matter; they wore the uniform in service to this country. Scoring a  big screen TV at a great price has no place in that same pantheon. Like every other holiday in this country, it has been hijacked into a reason to go shopping. How is it that Madison Avenue thinks the only thing America does is shop? It’s a chicken and the egg kind  of thing. Did the ad execs notice we shop or do we shop because the ads compel into the stores?

Oddly, today was also the second day of the holiday Shavuot and a day on which we recite Yizkor, the memorial service. While Shavuot often falls at the end of May, it’s rare when second day happens to fall on Memorial Day. That said, it’s quite fitting. It’s a short service within the service, and one says the prayers appropriate to one’s loss as well as for communal groups. It’s not an easy service to get through, but it specifically addresses loss and the impact of that loss. And it is quite to the point: we remember our dead. 

America should be saying Yizkor for our lost soldiers, for our Glorious Dead. If there’s going to be a Memorial Day, maybe that’s what it needs to be: a day when there aren’t sales, when people perform some kind of national service to remind us that we are one single country and one American community.

And if we do that, maybe our candidates will remember that they are also part of the one country and one American community.

Just a thought.

Wifely Person’s Tip o’the Week

Tuesday, May 29^th, marks the 559^th anniversary of the fall of Constantinople to the Turks.

And the 59^th anniversary of Sir Edmund Hillary’s conquest of Everest.

Traditionally, angel food cake with chocolate icing is served. 

Are You Now Or Have You Ever Been A Uterist

Sunday morning, I was minding my own business, cup of coffee in hand, and the New York Times…in print….my  favorite Sunday indulgence, before me,  when I happened upon an editorial in the SUNDAY REVIEW section: The Campaign Against Women. There was no by-line, and I supposed that's just as well, being it is an editorial. The piece succinctly delineated the 4 major areas in the Republican platform that put women at risk: abortion, access to health care, equal pay, and domestic abuse. Using legislative changes currently proposed in state legislatures across the country, the thesis is supported by governmental action and not opposition rhetoric. And this should be scaring the shit of women across this country.

Okay, now I can understand the philosophical differences between people who have (or have had) a uterus and people who are less fortunately equipped. I have a father, a brother, and TWO sons. I had a husband (until he had the poor form to die.) I know how penile beings think...and I don't remember any of my guys ever so much as intimating a woman's place was shackled between the bedroom and the kitchen with a nursery in between. 

Recently, seven states have enacted measures that restrict the availability of abortion even in cases of rape, incest, or, most terrifying of all, where the life of the mother is in jeopardy. The new statutes require that a women be "near death" before an abortion can be performed. "'Near death," however is not defined. Wanna battle that one out in court? With your wife or daughter or sister lying there fading away? 

And speaking of women's reproductive rights - here's another update from Fantasy Land: they want to un-fund organizations that provide women with affordable, competent health care INCLUDING but not limited to birth control, AND get rid of the programs that provide support for parents of young children. So, the net result is more kids and no net. Can you please explain to me why on earth you would want to hinder pregnancy prevention? 

In the re-authorization of Violence Against Women Act, our crackhead Congress managed to rip the teeth right outta the bill. Gone, amongst other crucial portions, is the protection for immigrant women whose status depends on a spouse. The end result is that instead of preventing abuse, a whole classification will be more likely to remain with an abuser because there is nowhere to turn.

And as if Wisconsin's Scott Walker's attack on unions followed by the successful demand for a recall election hasn't had any impact on this moron of a governor, he just repealed a state law that allowed women to bring equal pay lawsuits to the state courts rather than to force a long, costly battle in federal court. As if this will discourage women from standing up and yelling, "FOUL!" Or, in Governor Walker's case, "FOWL!"

What is it about these Republican guys that makes them think women are going be herded back into the 19th ...not even the 20th!... century without a fight? Don't these men have wives, mothers, sisters, and/or daughters? Can they not see beyond their own hot air cloud to even glimpse the ramifications?

I am not talking radical feminism here…I’m talking about basic health and human services issues. Believe me, if I was being a radical feminist here, these are not the issues I’d be going after. This is about the status quo with an eye toward a gender unbiased future.

Which brings me back to something that keeps rattling around this little empty head of mine like a pea in a tin can: these guys don’t go after guns and Viagra….both of which are dick things; they go after anything that directly impacts someone with a uterus. Why? What is it about the menstrual cycle that scares them? That women can bleed for 7 days non-stop and NOT die? Or maybe it’s that we can do the one thing they can’t: bring a new life into the world.

Penis envy is bullshit. No one wants one of those; they just get in the way of a guy’s ability to think. Nope. This is a clear case of uterus envy. If they cannot accomplish what we can….they are going to do everything in their power to screw it up for the rest of us.

Ladies….this is our time. We have the ultimate power. If you know a Republican who preaches the gospel of the reduction of women’s rights, reproductive or otherwise, straighten him out immediately. And if you need help, I’m willing to bet there are lots of sisters around who would be more than happy to assist. 

The Wifely Person's Tip o'the Week

Getting ready for Shavu'ot? 

Try making your favorite cheesecake with half cream cheese and half neufchatel.

It really does come out fluffier.

NO MORE GAY FRIENDS

Seems like  gay marriage has taken over the airwaves of late. Between Joe Biden forcing POTUS to come out of the philosophical closet, and the head of the RNC’s declaration that a plank of the party's platform is to fundamentally deny civil rights to an entire class of people, there has been so much venom spewed that I began to think seriously about my own sentiments toward gays and gay rights in an attempt to better understand where all the agita comes from. The issues being addressed (or not addressed) were beginning to pile up and suddenly I had a funny feeling I was not being completely honest with myself or, perhaps worse, with my readers.

Was I harboring a secret prejudice? Was I hiding behind some politically correct posture and using it as a shield? Or was it something more nefarious, something I was loathe to confront in others, much less myself? I spent a lot of time obsessing about this. I examined and re-examined everything I've written about homosexuality in the past year, hoping it would shed a renewed light on my thought process. It did, and I came to some conclusions:

• I am not gay. My sexuality is not in question. I have a fair number of friends who are lesbians and nope, I am not attracted to anything but their intellect and senses of humor. Skill at mahjong is definitely a plus but I am definitely a hetero kinda girl. 

• Having been in the theatre biz for a long time, gay guys are part and parcel of the scenery. Since I'm not invited into their bedrooms as either participant or spectator, I’m not entitled to any opinion. Their sexuality has no impact whatsoever on me. I’m more interested in their upper brains. 

• I really don't care if someone is gay. Really. What anyone does in the privacy of his/her own bedroom is none of my business. I’m just not interested in someone else’s sex life. Not gays, not straights, not even Kardashians.  Unless I know someone is being raped or abused or hurt in any way and I am in the position to call the cops to stop a criminal act...consenting adults of any persuasion having sex is not a criminal act. 

La Coste

Now, let's add another layer of confusion to this debate with the addition of Tom Friedman's column in Sunday's NY Times, This Column is Not Sponsored By Anyone. Ostensibly, it deals with corporate sponsorship, but it raises an interesting point about labeling. Everything has a label these days...from college football stadia to high school lockers. Are you old enough (like me) to recall when it started? Remember Jordache and Gloria Vanderbilt? Or “Nothing comes between me and my Calvins?” Or the La Coste crocodile  and the Ralph Lauren polo guy? These were all visible signs of  70’s coolness. Suddenly everything had to have a label. Even infant clothes sprouted designer labels. Inner city kids were murdered for the name brand sneakers and team parkas. Why do we feel the need to pigeon hole everything in our life?

I when I was in grad school and sported a full length cast on my leg following surgery, my dad painted those trademark green and maroon stripes down the front, with the interlocking Gucci "G" diamond pattern all over the rest of it. We even stopped at Gucci on Fifth Avenue to show it to the ladies and they loved it. That was then….this is now.  These days, I don’t want someone else’s name emblazoned on anything I own. The label is nonsense… it must be about quality. And this applies to people as well. 

So I've made up my mind. From now on:  

NO MORE GAY FRIENDS.

NO MORE GAY MARRIAGE CONVERSATIONS.

NO MORE BLACK PRESIDENTS.

NO MORE MORMON CANDIDATES

NO MORE JEWISH PRINCESSES  

(Actually I dumped that last one long ago...but that's a different blog topic.)

Going forward, my friends will be my friends. They will not be my gay friends, or my Polish friends. Barak Obama will not be our black President. Nope. No more. Unless a label is specific to the point of the conversation, as in, “My New York friends have a different understanding of Pastrami from my Minnesota friends," I will no longer label people.

As for DOMA or the ridiculous amendment here in Minnesota, there will be no more discussion of GAY marriage.  Marriage is marriage is marriage and everyone has the right to turn a significant other into an instant next of kin. We can talk about civil rights begin denied a class of citizens because of sexual orientation. We can protest that civil rights are for ALL American citizens, and all citizens constitute WE, the PEOPLE.

This is NOT about  being politically correct; it’s about being humanly aware. We can change the conversation in favor of inclusiveness, and it doesn’t cost a damn thing. 

Join me in rejecting the label culture in favor of 

civil discourse, 

civil rights, 

and 

equality for all American citizens under the law.

The Wifely Person’s Tip o’the Week

The longer we continue to affix the labels,

the longer those targeted segments of the population 

experience alienation and discrimination.

Speak Up Loud and Speak Up Often!

A modified version of this appeared on the Minnesota Public Radio - Commentary site this morning. And while I am thrilled that they published it at all, a few of the finer points were edited out. Therefore, here is the column in its entirety. 

****************************************

I just watched the most terrifying video clip I’ve ever seen. It wasn’t from ALIEN or some Gothic vampire flick, it was a radio talk show host delivering his message to his loyal listeners. It wasn’t just the topic that was scary; it was something he said in the middle of his screed.

Richard Grenell

The speaker was Bryan Fischer of the American Family Association on his May 1st broadcast talking about the resignation of Richard Grenell, a senior adviser to the Romney campaign who happens to be an openly homosexual man. Now, no matter how you feel about homosexuality, you cannot help but be terrified by what Bryan Fischer said about the candidate. Below is a quote taken from the video:

“Mitt Romney has been forced to say, ‘Look, I overstepped my bounds here. I went outside the parameters here. I went off the reservation with this hire. The pro-family community has called me back to the table here. Called me back inside the borders of the reservation’….I [Fischer] can flat out guarantee you he is not going to make this mistake again.’”

Excuse me? Did I hear that right?

We, The People who, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, were just told by some guy that his organization controls some other guy who is a major party candidate for President of the United States.

Now, I’m sure Mr. Romneyy will come out and denounce Mr. Fischer, but the damage is done. This radio guy just told America that his organization, small as it is, is so powerful that presidents will bow to their will, and that we should all fall in, goose-stepping all the way, behind him.

While ultimately this may be a matter of free speech, there are lingering doubts over how much power the ultra-right wing lobby really wields. On some levels, it hearkens back to that classic film, The Manchurian Candidate, casting a rather large shadow over the Republican party. Are they pandering to that segment, and at what cost?

So here’s the question that needs to be asked: if Mr. Fischer and his constituency have this much power, and if Mitt Romney is elected, what comes next? Are all homosexuals to be denied employment? Are the business they own to be given to heterosexuals? And what is to become of them? Are there already plans in the works for relocation camps to house them away from the general population?

Manzanar in California

Sounds more like Germany, 1933…or California in 1942. Let’s not forget what a fearful government did to We, the People of Japanese descent during World War II.

We, the People do not have the luxury of standing idly by while this kind of rhetoric is making it onto the air waves. We, the People need to stand up for the rights of ALL American citizens.  If you don’t approve of the Vatican, don’t be a Catholic. If you don’t approve of abortion, don’t get one. If you don’t approve of homosexuals, don’t be one. Regardless of opinion, We are part of We, the People and have all the same rights as every other citizen of the United States regardless of race, creed, or sexual orientation.

It’s unimportant whether or not Mr. Fischer is telling the truth. He thinks he is, and probably a whole lot of other people think he is, too. And this can spread. Fast. Too fast. Unless We, the People, stand up against bigotry of ALL kinds, there will be no one left to speak for any of We, the People when they come for the rest of us.

Wifely Person's Tip o'the Week

If we do not step up to the plate to protect our civil rights,

we don't deserve to have them