So my husband and I are probably most likely gonna possibly start trying to have a baby sometime next year, and I have already begun kinda sorta maybe planning for it. Most women probably wait until they are actually pregnant, but I have already bought a handful of books, and have begun drafting a hefty 'to do before baby' list. The list includes replacing a few remaining old windows, stripping/repainting trim that probably contains lead, and--oh yeah--remodeling our upstairs bedroom, and maybe parts of our kitchen.
And then last night I found myself looking up school district maps. As much as I like Schenectady, I don't want to live in this part of it when I have a school-age child. I myself am a product of public school, and I have no problem with mixed races in the classroom--I prefer it--but I also don't want my kid going to a ghetto school with future gang members, and Schenectady has a gang problem, particularly in middle school. And it appears that magnet school attendance is now determined by lottery and no longer by test scores like it was in my day--so even if our kid is smart/advanced, that won't determine whether or not it gets into the better magnet schools in the area. It goes without saying that I would never want to send my kid to private school, even if I could afford it.
Then there's the worry about our parenting styles, and what type of parents/role models we will be. I worry about our bickering--my husband and I seem to bicker the most when we are doing a house project together. He says I am a dictator when it comes to projects--I have a vision and it's my vision or nothing, and he feels overruled. We're working on our backyard remodel at the moment, and last night he simply said the words 'marble chips' as a possibility for an overlooked section of our yard, and I was like, 'oh, HELL no.' His problem is that I won't even pretend to entertain his ideas, I just dismiss them out of hand. I know that I do this, but he always comes around to my vision, in the end, so no harm, no foul, right? Besides, I think we enjoy the bickering, to some degree. It never erupts into full-blown arguments, so I think we're ok. But having a baby will open up whole new vistas of potential bickering, and I worry that the added stress will take its toll on us, and make us bad parents.
I suppose all of my fears are normal. No one has a perfectly debt-free, stress-free life, picture-perfect and smiling, ready to receive Baby. My husband and I might bicker, and we're far from rich, but we love each other, and we communicate well, for the most part. And at least my kid will have what I didn't: a two-parent household filled with bickering, laughter, and love.
For my own sanity I'm going to have to table some of this worrying for now, and focus on house projects. When I'm fat with giant boobs and an alien growing inside me, that's when I'll start worrying about schools and parenting styles.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Honor thy mother. Seriously.
It's that time of year again, when we are reminded by corporations to honor our mothers by sending them flowers or candy or a card on Mother's Day. Most of you out there probably don't even register the day it until the day of, when you call your dear, sweet, considerate, and concerned mother, the woman who presumably cared for you as a child and who presumably fostered a healthy, loving, and respectful with you into adulthood.
Well la de frickin' da for you. Yes I'm bitter and jealous that you have one of these creatures called 'mother' with whom you have a blandly normal, wonderful relationship. I can only wish that I had that blandness that you take for granted.
You might have guessed at this point that my relationship with my mother is less than decent. Anyone who knows me knows vaguely of my "mother drama." I might joke about it, but this mother drama causes me real aggravation and shame. Suffice to say, my mother drama is the one thing that can give me the sads on the regular, and it doesn't look like that is going to change anytime soon.
This year the choice is between keeping up the pretense and sending my mother a card on mother's day (like always), or digging in and saving myself a stamp. I think I'm going with the latter this year. It's painful to have to choose from among all of those cards addressed to great and wonderful mothers, mothers who are best friends, role models, champions, believers, nuturers, etc--all things mothers should aspire to be, I agree, but none of which suit my particular sentiments.
If only there were cards that said something along the lines of 'Mother, thank you for not aborting me/sorry I stole your youth' or 'Mother, I remember fondly the time you couldn't give us a wedding shower but then had one for my cousin' or my favorite, 'Mother I'll be here for you every time he hits you/cheats on you/lies to you.' That would be more like it. Heartwarming, isn't it?
The worst thing about having a terrible relationship with your mother? I mean of course aside from the fact that the one person I should always be able to count on is as unreliable, selfish, and petulant as a 12-year old? Trying to get people to understand how in the fuck this shit can happen. When I try to explain the situation, I am often met with--well, it is hard to say what I am met with, exactly. So counfounded are people by the impossible idea that a woman who has given birth is somehow not living up to the title of Mother, that they kind of refuse to believe it, turn it back on me, and conclude that my problems with my mother are either exaggerated or somehow my fault. It's a very sensitive, almost taboo subject.
Let me just say that I would not wish this on anyone. All I can do is keep praying that my mother will change her situation and get her sanity back before it's too late to salvage our relationship. Maintaining a relationship with my mother has been and probably always will be my awful burden. My poor relationship with mother is one of the main reasons why I have taken so long to come around to the idea of motherhood.
Let my lack of a good maternal relationship be a lesson to you all: don't take your mother for granted. She may nag and annoy you, she may say impertinent things and voice unwanted opinions about your choices in life, but ultimately, those things signal her concern and love for you, so go with it. Let the motherly concern wash over you. The next time you roll your eyes at her latest life suggestion or choice of pantwear, just think of me, and be glad you're not me. Go hug your mother.
Well la de frickin' da for you. Yes I'm bitter and jealous that you have one of these creatures called 'mother' with whom you have a blandly normal, wonderful relationship. I can only wish that I had that blandness that you take for granted.
You might have guessed at this point that my relationship with my mother is less than decent. Anyone who knows me knows vaguely of my "mother drama." I might joke about it, but this mother drama causes me real aggravation and shame. Suffice to say, my mother drama is the one thing that can give me the sads on the regular, and it doesn't look like that is going to change anytime soon.
This year the choice is between keeping up the pretense and sending my mother a card on mother's day (like always), or digging in and saving myself a stamp. I think I'm going with the latter this year. It's painful to have to choose from among all of those cards addressed to great and wonderful mothers, mothers who are best friends, role models, champions, believers, nuturers, etc--all things mothers should aspire to be, I agree, but none of which suit my particular sentiments.
If only there were cards that said something along the lines of 'Mother, thank you for not aborting me/sorry I stole your youth' or 'Mother, I remember fondly the time you couldn't give us a wedding shower but then had one for my cousin' or my favorite, 'Mother I'll be here for you every time he hits you/cheats on you/lies to you.' That would be more like it. Heartwarming, isn't it?
The worst thing about having a terrible relationship with your mother? I mean of course aside from the fact that the one person I should always be able to count on is as unreliable, selfish, and petulant as a 12-year old? Trying to get people to understand how in the fuck this shit can happen. When I try to explain the situation, I am often met with--well, it is hard to say what I am met with, exactly. So counfounded are people by the impossible idea that a woman who has given birth is somehow not living up to the title of Mother, that they kind of refuse to believe it, turn it back on me, and conclude that my problems with my mother are either exaggerated or somehow my fault. It's a very sensitive, almost taboo subject.
Let me just say that I would not wish this on anyone. All I can do is keep praying that my mother will change her situation and get her sanity back before it's too late to salvage our relationship. Maintaining a relationship with my mother has been and probably always will be my awful burden. My poor relationship with mother is one of the main reasons why I have taken so long to come around to the idea of motherhood.
Let my lack of a good maternal relationship be a lesson to you all: don't take your mother for granted. She may nag and annoy you, she may say impertinent things and voice unwanted opinions about your choices in life, but ultimately, those things signal her concern and love for you, so go with it. Let the motherly concern wash over you. The next time you roll your eyes at her latest life suggestion or choice of pantwear, just think of me, and be glad you're not me. Go hug your mother.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
I will never see another 3D movie, and here's why.
First of all, I had to stare at Sam Worthington's generic face through dark 3D glasses once again, which caused me to draw comparisons to the last movie we saw in the theater, 'Avatar.' I have to wonder how this guy got so big, so fast, seemingly out of nowhere. In one year he's in two blockbuster 3D movies, both of which require him to ride a flying beast of some sort, and neither of which require more of him than his standard military-style buzz cut. That guy must have great karma.
Second, despite trailers showing a regal-looking Liam Neeson shouting, "release the Kraken," this was not a fun romp through ancient mythology. Sam played a Perseus very reluctant to use his god-like abilities--he keeps saying he wants to do this 'as a man,' which aggravated the hell out of me and the band of misfits that accompany him on his journey. Moments before the last of his compatriots are turned to stone by Medusa, there is a rousing Lord-of-the-Rings-esque moment in which Perseus tells him heretofore he's only met one great man (his father)--but today he has met four, plus a woman (the woman being Io, his guardian). Cue eye-roll sequence!
Movies just aren't worth the money these days. $25 bucks for a couple to see a 3D movie? Never again! I have seen no less than four 3D movies in the past year, and after last night's travesty, I vow to never see another one. Frankly I don't see how 3D movies today are all that different from 3D movies in the 80s. I know the process is different, yadda yadda, and the glasses are different, but I find the new glasses annoying, dark, and the effects just aren't worth the trouble IMO. The only movie that I thought was worth seeing in 3D was 'Coraline,' because it was animated, and 3D seems to work better on images that are manufactured. Avatar was visually psychedelic, it's true, but the glasses didn't enhance that, and the story sucked. Special effects do not a good story make.
My newly-formed theory about 3D movies is this: if a live-action movie is in 3D, someone is most likely trying to cover a shoddy plot and cynically reap millions of dollars from stupid Americans. I'd rather see a regular movie that has a compelling story over a flat, rehashed storyline in 3D any day. But I generally don't make it out to the theaters--we rent movies at home, like most people. There is something to be said for the movie going experience, it's just not something that has been enjoyable for me in a long, long time. I fear that 3D was the last gimmick to get people out to theaters, and that has failed miserably through overuse. The movie industry is going to have to downsize itself because it has ceased to entertain. Granted, there is a lot of crap out there, and plenty of people willing to waste their hard-earned money and time consuming it; I'm just not one of them. For the discriminating viewer, television is just much more intriguing these days. :P
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Things Lost in the Wake of Industry #1: Grating Cheese
So I grated cheese the other night--I know, so retro of me. People don't grate their own cheese anymore, do they? I mean, they sell the stuff already shredded and in ready-to-use, resealable packages! Why would you willingly grate your own cheese? It's just silly really--the dangerous dance between cheese, skin, and grater, the way the grated cheese sticks to itself--an inconvenience, and a dangerous inconvenience at that.
What did I gain from grating my own cheese, you ask? About 2 minutes of meditation time, and a surprisingly wicked burn in my upper arm from the back and forth motion. Also: a small Tupperware full of grated cheese that only cost me $1.50 instead of nearly $4, less packaging waste, and none of the fillers and additives that are currently found in today's shredded cheese products (and are terrible for you, like cornstarch).
What did I gain from grating my own cheese, you ask? About 2 minutes of meditation time, and a surprisingly wicked burn in my upper arm from the back and forth motion. Also: a small Tupperware full of grated cheese that only cost me $1.50 instead of nearly $4, less packaging waste, and none of the fillers and additives that are currently found in today's shredded cheese products (and are terrible for you, like cornstarch).
When I cook, I love thinking about how or if someone could have or would have made what I am cooking 50-100 years ago. This is the kind of stuff I think about whilst cooking. Does that make me weird? God I hope so.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
The Farmer's Market High
As a result of reading the world-shattering food books by Michael Pollan, we have started dutifully attending our local Schenectady Greenmarket inside of the Proctor's theater walkway. We've been doing this for a couple of months now, and it has become something we look forward to doing together. I now can say that we have an 'egg guy,' a 'milk guy,' as well as a bread/cheese/candle/jam/honey guy. Or gal, as the case may be.
Sunday mornings we get up, watch the CBS morning show (when we get up early enough that is) from 9:30 to 10:30, then we mosey out to the farmer's market between 11-12. We bring about $30 cash with us and we spend it all every time. It started out small, with us just buying food--eggs, bread, cheese, beets--but it has since blossomed into this weird, happy, self-indulgent shopping trip. Today I bought almond shea butter for my hands, and beeswax candles for Easter gifts. And today we finally discovered the milk vendor, who also sells ice cream...you see how this is going to go.
I don't know what it is, but there is something about going to a farmer's market that makes you feel good. It's not a feeling I usually get from regular grocery shopping, that's for sure. Everyone is so nice and smiley, there's usually an Irish band playing, and everyone is milling about politely and making eye contact. I admit I found it very unsettling the first few times, but you get used to it, then you actually start to like it. I do still have to suppress an eye roll at the overt crunchiness, but it's easy to just focus on the food, get what you need, and go. No need to stick around for the unshaven bluegrass band that plays at noon, or the occasional poetry reading.
And this is going to sound even more ridiculous, but when I'm eating a slice of whole wheat loaf slathered with strawberry-rhubarb jam, topped off with a glass of delicious reduced fat farm-fresh milk, it makes me feel even better. It's like I'm getting some kind of whole foods high. The feeling was so strong this morning that I had to ask myself: am I getting this food high because of the deliciousness of the food itself, or because I know that the food is the best, freshest quality, locally grown and sustainable, or a strange combination of both? Maybe it's the high butterfat content in the milk, but whatever it is, I am loving it. It feels good to be buying whole foods grown in my local area, and to be participating in an exchange of goods and services that is direct and honest, for a change.
Sunday mornings we get up, watch the CBS morning show (when we get up early enough that is) from 9:30 to 10:30, then we mosey out to the farmer's market between 11-12. We bring about $30 cash with us and we spend it all every time. It started out small, with us just buying food--eggs, bread, cheese, beets--but it has since blossomed into this weird, happy, self-indulgent shopping trip. Today I bought almond shea butter for my hands, and beeswax candles for Easter gifts. And today we finally discovered the milk vendor, who also sells ice cream...you see how this is going to go.
I don't know what it is, but there is something about going to a farmer's market that makes you feel good. It's not a feeling I usually get from regular grocery shopping, that's for sure. Everyone is so nice and smiley, there's usually an Irish band playing, and everyone is milling about politely and making eye contact. I admit I found it very unsettling the first few times, but you get used to it, then you actually start to like it. I do still have to suppress an eye roll at the overt crunchiness, but it's easy to just focus on the food, get what you need, and go. No need to stick around for the unshaven bluegrass band that plays at noon, or the occasional poetry reading.
And this is going to sound even more ridiculous, but when I'm eating a slice of whole wheat loaf slathered with strawberry-rhubarb jam, topped off with a glass of delicious reduced fat farm-fresh milk, it makes me feel even better. It's like I'm getting some kind of whole foods high. The feeling was so strong this morning that I had to ask myself: am I getting this food high because of the deliciousness of the food itself, or because I know that the food is the best, freshest quality, locally grown and sustainable, or a strange combination of both? Maybe it's the high butterfat content in the milk, but whatever it is, I am loving it. It feels good to be buying whole foods grown in my local area, and to be participating in an exchange of goods and services that is direct and honest, for a change.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Turning 34: It's Three Gray Hairs Good
The earliest memory I have of a gray hair is back in high school--there was a wayward gray hair that a friend found and pulled out--I was probably 15, so it was a freak of nature. Since that time, I have been completely unconscious of gray hairs altogether, that is until last week.
I have pulled out no less than 3 gray hairs this week. I'm not sure what's happening here. Maybe what they say is true--you pull one, and more grow in its place. Or maybe they were there, I didn't notice, and I'm only noticing now because it's my birthday? Or maybe I've finally hit that invisible wall where my body says, 'uh-uh, no more dark hair for you, you're too old'--and BAM, gray hair.
Whatever it is, I am not liking it. I turn 34 this week, and smart asses know that means I've completed my 34th year, and am beginning my 35th one. When you put it that way--YIKES. Yes, time continues to pull me inexorably forward whether I want it to or not, blah blah blah. There is no getting off this death train! Cue obscure reference to "The Last Car," that Tales from the Darkside episode where four dead passengers (who don't know they're dead) end up riding the last car for eternity, and annoying the hell out of one another in the process.
But I'm not on the last car just yet. This week has been a flurry of lunches and dinners and celebrations--starting with my initial birthday Mexican food/80s dancing on Saturday, then lunch/dinner/lunch/dinner/lunch. And this weekend, one last family dinner, with cake. Even though it's undeniable that I'm getting older, and that I've gained 2 pounds this week from all the excess (my Wii Fit yelled at me last night), I'd say my 35th year is so far going well. I have good friends and family, a job, my health, and more importantly, I am more or less happy with myself and where I am in life. Whatever year 35 brings, I hope it's as much fun.
I have pulled out no less than 3 gray hairs this week. I'm not sure what's happening here. Maybe what they say is true--you pull one, and more grow in its place. Or maybe they were there, I didn't notice, and I'm only noticing now because it's my birthday? Or maybe I've finally hit that invisible wall where my body says, 'uh-uh, no more dark hair for you, you're too old'--and BAM, gray hair.
Whatever it is, I am not liking it. I turn 34 this week, and smart asses know that means I've completed my 34th year, and am beginning my 35th one. When you put it that way--YIKES. Yes, time continues to pull me inexorably forward whether I want it to or not, blah blah blah. There is no getting off this death train! Cue obscure reference to "The Last Car," that Tales from the Darkside episode where four dead passengers (who don't know they're dead) end up riding the last car for eternity, and annoying the hell out of one another in the process.
But I'm not on the last car just yet. This week has been a flurry of lunches and dinners and celebrations--starting with my initial birthday Mexican food/80s dancing on Saturday, then lunch/dinner/lunch/dinner/lunch. And this weekend, one last family dinner, with cake. Even though it's undeniable that I'm getting older, and that I've gained 2 pounds this week from all the excess (my Wii Fit yelled at me last night), I'd say my 35th year is so far going well. I have good friends and family, a job, my health, and more importantly, I am more or less happy with myself and where I am in life. Whatever year 35 brings, I hope it's as much fun.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Be Ready for the Coming Poverty Wars with Your iPhone!
I saw this story in Gawker today and I shook my head in amazement. Then laughed maniacally at my own joke, which became the title of this blog. And then I shook my head some more.
Just when I think I've seen it all, there's always more.
We did it first in 2001 in the name of keeping the terrorists at bay. 'Yes, take all of my freedoms, please, if it means I can go on living in oblivion in debt up to my eyeballs. Yes, you're right, government, air travel is far too convenient, and we should jump at the opportunity to make this modern convenience an insufferable nightmare. What's that FAA? Now we have to fly naked as the day we were born? Well as long as I'm eating at the Bullshit Buffet, I'll take a huge helping of human degradation with a side of anal probe please.'
And now this iKey thing? The device that "lets Steve Jobs mediate your most private spaces?" I have read a lot of science fiction, and am familiar with the 'house of the future' concept, and I don't find it cool, I find it disturbing. I am continually amazed at people's apparent willingness to sign over their most important and private possessions in the name of ease and the all-important cool factor.
In the interest of full disclosure, I will level with you and say that I love making fun of people with iPhones. I really do. And they secretly love being made fun of, because the teasing only enhances their coolness. They know the iPhone is annoying and snooty, but they have one anyway--their iPhone is a choice, dammit, not a fashion trend.
All teasing aside, I see the iPhone as a pretty cool and valuable tool if you can afford one, or if your life is so busy that you need the internet at your fingertips every second (neither of which camp I fall into). But here's another secret about me: I am a neo-Luddite and I don't trust technology. There, I said it, but I don't mean it in the way that you think I do.
Technology these days all seems to be about creating a need for a product where there wasn't one previously. I get that, it's an ingenious marketing strategy, and the bottom line is, these devices are cool, and you can't argue with cool (I've tried). But then there are people like me, stubborn atheists who refuse to get on the bandwagon, and who aren't lured by the cool factor. I have a need for a cell phone, yes, but I do not have need nor desire for a PDA or Smartphone so that I can surf the internet 'on the fly' (for a fee). I'm not saying those things aren't important for some people, they're just not priorities for me, and I refuse to complicate my life unnecessarily. I happen to love my old video iPod, I think it's great--and have no desire for an iTouch or any of the newer iterations of the Nano or Shuffle, thank you very much.
Here's a question no one asks: why have one device that does everything? Why hook yourself up to the world at every waking moment? You will inevitably become dependent on that device, and if you're not careful, that device will own you, and you'll miss out on true experiences in the here and now because your phone buzzed and you looked down. If you're ok with that, fine--but there's room here for those of us who don't, too.
Instead of letting a device define the path of my life for me, I define my technology choices by what I don't want in my life. I don't want to feel like I should check my email when on vacation just because I have the capability to. I don't want a phone call interrupting my music experience. I don't want people having access to me whenever they want. I don't want to wear a weird thing on my ear and appear to talk to myself in public. I don't need to talk while driving. I don't need a single device that pays my bills, unlocks my car and house, and pays for my purchases. I don't need to know what else I could be missing. I don't want to be stymied and overwhelmed at every turn by tweets and messages and downloads and emails and dinner options.
Technology is everywhere. The more we let it control for us, the more controlled our lives become; it is for us to decide how much control we give up for the sake of ease and efficiency. Are we really that busy and important? I seriously doubt it.
There is something to be said for being 'unreachable' from time to time, and I just can't let go of that last freedom.
Just when I think I've seen it all, there's always more.
We did it first in 2001 in the name of keeping the terrorists at bay. 'Yes, take all of my freedoms, please, if it means I can go on living in oblivion in debt up to my eyeballs. Yes, you're right, government, air travel is far too convenient, and we should jump at the opportunity to make this modern convenience an insufferable nightmare. What's that FAA? Now we have to fly naked as the day we were born? Well as long as I'm eating at the Bullshit Buffet, I'll take a huge helping of human degradation with a side of anal probe please.'
And now this iKey thing? The device that "lets Steve Jobs mediate your most private spaces?" I have read a lot of science fiction, and am familiar with the 'house of the future' concept, and I don't find it cool, I find it disturbing. I am continually amazed at people's apparent willingness to sign over their most important and private possessions in the name of ease and the all-important cool factor.
In the interest of full disclosure, I will level with you and say that I love making fun of people with iPhones. I really do. And they secretly love being made fun of, because the teasing only enhances their coolness. They know the iPhone is annoying and snooty, but they have one anyway--their iPhone is a choice, dammit, not a fashion trend.
All teasing aside, I see the iPhone as a pretty cool and valuable tool if you can afford one, or if your life is so busy that you need the internet at your fingertips every second (neither of which camp I fall into). But here's another secret about me: I am a neo-Luddite and I don't trust technology. There, I said it, but I don't mean it in the way that you think I do.
Technology these days all seems to be about creating a need for a product where there wasn't one previously. I get that, it's an ingenious marketing strategy, and the bottom line is, these devices are cool, and you can't argue with cool (I've tried). But then there are people like me, stubborn atheists who refuse to get on the bandwagon, and who aren't lured by the cool factor. I have a need for a cell phone, yes, but I do not have need nor desire for a PDA or Smartphone so that I can surf the internet 'on the fly' (for a fee). I'm not saying those things aren't important for some people, they're just not priorities for me, and I refuse to complicate my life unnecessarily. I happen to love my old video iPod, I think it's great--and have no desire for an iTouch or any of the newer iterations of the Nano or Shuffle, thank you very much.
Here's a question no one asks: why have one device that does everything? Why hook yourself up to the world at every waking moment? You will inevitably become dependent on that device, and if you're not careful, that device will own you, and you'll miss out on true experiences in the here and now because your phone buzzed and you looked down. If you're ok with that, fine--but there's room here for those of us who don't, too.
Instead of letting a device define the path of my life for me, I define my technology choices by what I don't want in my life. I don't want to feel like I should check my email when on vacation just because I have the capability to. I don't want a phone call interrupting my music experience. I don't want people having access to me whenever they want. I don't want to wear a weird thing on my ear and appear to talk to myself in public. I don't need to talk while driving. I don't need a single device that pays my bills, unlocks my car and house, and pays for my purchases. I don't need to know what else I could be missing. I don't want to be stymied and overwhelmed at every turn by tweets and messages and downloads and emails and dinner options.
Technology is everywhere. The more we let it control for us, the more controlled our lives become; it is for us to decide how much control we give up for the sake of ease and efficiency. Are we really that busy and important? I seriously doubt it.
There is something to be said for being 'unreachable' from time to time, and I just can't let go of that last freedom.
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