A Couple of Things.

It started out with a phone call as these things usually do. The voice on the other end, the renter of my cottage, says in a unusually calm voice, "Susan, a couple of things." I am expecting something along the lines of a small plumbing or wireless issue. Instead I hear the words "the phones are not working and a squirrel ran across my husband's face as he was sleeping this morning." Just like that. Not a great deal of emotion. Just a little communication that might be of interest to me. I think, oh please let him have been sleeping out on the front porch or the back lawn or something. Just not in the cottage! No such luck. She says "he must have come out of the walls somewhere. The last we saw him he was climbing up the refrigerator. We are almost packed and ready to go. Just thought you would want to know. We had a great stay. Bye!"

Now mind you I am four hours away and new renters are coming in two days expecting a "squirreless vacation." He was not listed in the brochure. I call my caretaker and explain the situation to him. He says he will go over within the hour and set a live trap. But his first option will be to try and locate the little red squirrel and shoo him out the door. Real easy like. The way one would want it to be if he could control tough situations like this. No such luck. Another phone call. "Susan, a couple of things. First of all, the good news is I found the squirrel hiding in the back bedroom. The bad news is I tried to chase him out the back door lhe ran upstairs and jumped into the heating vent and dropped three floors down to the furnace. I heard him land with a thud but I didn't hear anything after that. Which leaves us with a couple of bad scenarios. One, he is dead and will start smelling within a couple of days in this heat or he may just be "knocked out" (that is truly what he said) and when he comes to, he will be running across your new renters faces." This is not good. So I jump in the car and drive eighty miles per hour all the way to the cottage. I pass some of my parent's friends along the way around Green Bay who call my Dad to inquire basically where the fire is. Nice. Just what Dad needs to hear about his fifty-year old recently divorced daughter.

At any rate, I make the trip in three hours and twenty minutes. I look in the front window and see the empty live trap. My heart sinks. I think he must be dead. I can almost anticipate the rotting rodent smell that one never forgets. I enter the cottage slowly and hear a sound I would not normally be able to identify except for the image of the squirrel climbing the refrigerator door described to me earlier that day. What a sight! I run up to the refrigerator hoping I can encourage him out the door. No such luck. He runs behind the refrigerator. So I do what I think any woman would when there is a nagging rodent problem that needs to be corrected. I open a bottle of red wine, open the back door, open a book, sit on the couch and wait him out. Stupid! Not going to work no way, no how. My neighbor and his wife come over to help me. They have been made aware of the situation. I walk over to the refrigerator. Being the ever positive thinker, I am fully anticipating a scene out of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation where the squirrel jumps out of the tree onto Chevy Chase's face. Only here he will jump on to my kindly neighbor's face or mine! We pull the frig out which is thankfully on rollers and look behind it. Gary, Lisa and I are armed with weapons, an oar, a mop and a broom handle. We are ready for war. Right on cue the squirrel delivers and he is jumping around the kitchen like he is stepping on hot coals. We are laughing and screaming. He has no intention of going out the door quietly. He runs under the couch. We make a little path for him to get out the door easily. It feels like the same set-up as when we used to make a path for the sand castle water to go down to the bay. Except this did not work that way. He runs in circles always ending up under the couch. Unbelievably he jumps between my legs and I am screaming and laughing so hard that I have no strength left in my hands to hold the mop. Finally, somehow, we eventually get him out the door and slam it shut behind him. Ah sweet victory. As I went to sleep that night with the light on I contemplated how it took three fifty year olds to overcome a little red squirrel.

Gender Subversion

or as my friend Bret likes to call it, a little propaganda...

For Every Woman
By Nancy R. Smith, copyright 1973

About this poem: This poem found its way around the world by word of mouth as part of the Women's Movement and the many consciousness-raising groups in existence then. It was of the same timeframe as Ms. Magazine, Marilyn French's The Women's Room and Marlo Thomas' Free to Be album. It is important to understand its context. It has now been "adapted" with credit to Nancy R. Smith but without her permission. Much of the original wording is still intact in the adaptation, which is being sold in poster form. This is the original!

For every woman who is tired of acting weak when she knows she is strong, there is a man who is tired of appearing strong when he feels vulnerable.

For every woman who is tired of acting dumb, there is a man who is burdened with the constant expectation of "knowing everything."

For every woman who is tired of being called "an emotional female," there is a man who is denied the right to weep and to be gentle.

For every woman who is called unfeminine when she competes, there is a man for whom competition is the only way to prove his masculinity.

For every woman who is tired of being a sex object, there is a man who must worry about his potency.

For every woman who feels "tied down" by her children, there is a man who is denied the full pleasures of shared parenthood.

For every woman who is denied meaningful employment or equal pay, there is a man who must bear full financial responsibility for another human being.

For every woman who was not taught the intricacies of an automobile, there is a man who was not taught the satisfactions of cooking.

For every woman who takes a step toward her own liberation, there is a man who finds the way to freedom has been made a little easier.

To understand what it meant in the 70s to be called a "girl," see Call Me a Woman. I believe this is still true today. Note that this does not relate to the use of the term "girl friend" by women among themselves.

Copyright © 1973 Nancy R. Smith 154C Shore Drive Peabody, MA 01960

Map Quest

 

 

  Miss Teen South Carolina was "everywhere, like, such as..."  

 

 

 

In case you missed this unfortunate gaffe...take a gander. 

 

Click here: Miss Teen USA Hopeful -- Say What?! - TMZ.com

 

I almost felt sorry for her except for the adamant "Miss Thing" hands on her hip body language that said "I don't have to make sense, just look at me" while she was swirling around in the abyss of her mind.  I could have answered that question better drunk, medicated, sleep-deprived and peri-menopausal.  Here goes...Hey Mr. President, how's the original "cornerstone' of your administration "No Child Left Behind" platform working so far? You remember.  The bipartisan educational reform you proposed.   There's my answer.  The education program in this country.  I think Bush has been a  little too preoccupied with the war in South Africa... er... Asia... er ....Iraq!  If you go back to the Clinton Administration and you listen very carefully to Miss Teen South Carolina, it not only takes a village to raise a child here in the U.S., it takes many other countries as well.

 

Most Americans probably couldn't have answered this question on the spot any better.  Then again, most of us would not be standing in front of a national t.v.audience being judged by our answer (or how we look in a swimsuit for that matter.)  We are a society that likes reality T.V. and watching people squirm.  You'd have to say that this little bit was really squirmy.  And don't forget, we are also a nation that gets all the news we need from Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert.  So with that in mind, we could just have a good laugh and leave this poor beauty queen alone.

 

By the way, this contestant took third runner-up in this competition.  Now that's funny!

 

What a proud moment for all of us "U.S. Americans..."

 

The Feminine Mispeak

After having coffee with a couple of friends this morning I was reminded of how important it is to spend time with my girlfriends.  I also learned that there is a controversial new book out called The Feminine Mistake.  This supposedly is a follow-up to the groundbreaking book Betty Friedan wrote in 1963, The Feminine Mystique, which rocked the cultural core of our society.  It disputed the popular idea that women during this time could only find happiness taking care of their husbands, becoming mothers and staying at home with the offspring of that choice.  

 

Friedan suggested that men returning home from World War II did two things.  They got their wives pregnant (baby boomers ring a bell?) and also turned to them for mothering.  Of course that is no surprise.  Most white middle-class suburban women totally yielded to this need as that is what we do.  We take care of those we love.  What could be more fulfilling than being a wife and mother?  On top of that, this all started at a time when new innovations were supposed to relieve us of the drudgery of housework. But that often had the result of making women's work less meaningful and valuable. God forbid!  What to do, what to do? I know!  Develop a sense of dissatisfaction, that's what!  Let's see how that worked...

 

The eyelet curtains in the kitchen were all bleached and starched.  The meatloaf was in the oven, the wash was done and the kids were at scouts.  You reapplied your makeup before your husband came home so you looked fresh instead of the way you really felt. You had a drink waiting for him and then heard about how his day was and were totally interested in everything he said because after all, he was at work all day.  

 

Flash forward forty plus years.

 

The Feminine Mistake.   (2007)   

 

The author of this book, Leslie Bennetts, talks about women who quit their jobs to become full-time mothers and don't realize the risks of economic dependency or recognize the benefits of work. Suddenly, we aren't so fulfilled anymore.  Because of this women are putting themselves many times into a false sense of security and giving up their ability to befinancially independent.  She feels that women are not being told the truth about how much they are giving up or what the hardships can be if the marriage ends, a spouse becomes ill or she becomes a widow.

She also reports that work derives big benefits in addition to getting compensated.  "Despite the undeniable challenges of the juggling act, working women tend to be happier and even healthier than stay-at-home moms, in ways that have been documented by a broad range of surprising medical, psychological and social science data. Their incomes give them power in their marriages and options in the larger world, not to mention opportunities that benefit their families. Women are socialized not to brag, but it's very gratifying to make money, be successful, and get recognition for your work. Like most men, many working women wouldn't even consider giving up such rewards."

In addition, they have now shown that children of stay-at-home moms don't fare any better than those of working moms.  Oh great.  Just when I had gotten over all of the guilt I have felt for taking a nap when the kids were younger instead of taking them to the park or to see the Remarkable Loon juggling act downtown.  Or being too tired to listen to a song one more time, or dragging Sarah by one arm through Marshall Field's because she was naughty.  I can still picture her little sparkly red shoes trying to keep up with my anger-filled stride. I could have been at work instead.  Good times.

Wait a minute!..Is what I have been doing the last 17 years a mistake?   Should I feel even more guilty about the choices I have made than I already do?  Have I not planned accordingly or protected my own interests adequately enough?

The author writes "It shouldn't be news that educating ourselves can help us to make smarter choices. You wouldn't buy a car without doing some comparison shopping and researching the advantages of different options, would you? So why would you make a major life choice that could jeopardize your future without informing yourself about the risks -- and the alternatives?"

I totally agree with her but here's the thing.  To coin Bennett's phrase, I have been a CHO (Chief Household Operator) for the last twenty years. To not stay at home with my children was not something I could negotiate in my mind.  I was staying home.  That is what my mom did and all the moms before her.  I know there were risks with that decision but I chose it on blind faith.  I could not leave my children in someone's else's care.  But I never was critical of women who could.  That is their choice and they probably were/are more secure now.  But many working mothers that I encountered were always critical of my decision.  I had woman say to me directly "I don't have time to make home-made muffins...I'm more than just a stay-at home mom."   Ouch.

The Feminine Mispeak  ( By Me!)

The bottom line is that you can't program for a moving target.  Bad things happen.  You deal with them as they happen.  That is life.  It is like a business that needs to be managed everyday.  You don't need to pretend you are a social scientist to know that.   A woman, working outside of the home or not needs to consider the problems she might encounter in the future.  She cannot live in a fairy tale.  She should have a contingency plan to protect herself on all levels.  Between natural disasters, school shootings, illness, death, war and the economy, who knows what lies ahead?  The important thing is that we as women, have choices.  We need to support one another with those choices and not tear each other down.  There is no right or wrong choice on this matter.  Both decisions are complicated.  As women, we are already second-class citizens.  There should not be such a disconnect between us.  If we turn against each other over this issue, who will be eager to listen to us when we need to bare our souls to someone?  The men?  The children?  It is the women;  moms, sisters, friends.  We all have that in common.  Hang on to that.

 

Visiting the Red Zone

 GO BUCKY!

It finally has come to this.  I took my oldest daughter on a college tour last week and found out something I already knew.  I miss being in college and it isn't 1982 anymore. 

 

We toured my alma mater, the University of Wisconsin-Madison.  The campus is still beautiful, the student body still diverse, the trek up Bascom Hill still exhausting, the Memorial Union still has music on Friday nights, the classes are still huge, the professors are still boring, Memorial Library still has study cages, Babcock ice cream is still delicious and I still miss it all.

 

Never mind that my parents told me that it would be the best 4 years of my life.  Like most things in life, you don't appreciate that fact while you are experiencing it.  You are too busy living it and think it will go on forever. I miss living on Langdon street and planning Friday classes around Thursday night escapades.  I miss the Rathskeller although I can go there anytime.  I miss my sorority sisters and communal living.  With that living came housekeepers who cleaned our rooms, made our meals and adorable frat boys who served them to us.  Yeah, I miss that.

 

I miss the school spirit.  During the information session, the speaker told us about the UW games and the student spirit but she summed it all up when she told us that when on a walking tour, a young man came flying by on his bicycle, flipped it into a bush and jumped up safely yelling "GO BADGERS"!  You don't get that everywhere.  As a side note, you might want to take a look at this clip from You Tube just to be reminded of what a football Saturday at Camp Randall is like.

 

Click here: YouTube - Jump Around Badgers  

 

I miss visiting my Dad who worked on campus as a fund-raiser for the UW.  Maybe that has something to do with my "there is no better school for the price" attitude.  I also figured out why he was in that line of work.  Being in that environment keeps you young and in touch and a continual student of life.

 

Back to the classes are still boring.  Sarah and I audited an Art History class as part of our time on campus.  I was amazed at how many students use laptops to take notes during lectures.  It is so simple now.  Plus, there is the added bonus of variety.  When you get bored, you can quick check your I-Tunes library right before you doze off for a few minutes.  Not like the old days.  We noticed that those who did not have laptops, in between taking copious notes, were either reading the comics or doing Sudoku.

 

When I sat there during the information session, there were people there from all over the U.S.   I wanted to jump up and shout "I am an Alumnus.  Of course you want to go here!  Why do you need convincing?  There is no better school!  Just ask me, ASK ME!"  But at the risk of embarrassing my daughter more than I already do, I thought better of it.  I hope that she decides to go here but I will leave that decision up to her.  I will tell her that it will be the best 4 years of her life and she will ignore me.  I will go hang out with her on the Terrace and live vicariously through her life.  I know she will be close but I will miss my first born being gone.  But at least I know what she will be experiencing.  UW pride.  The kind you get when you are singing the Varsity song at any athletic event and you know you've earned the right to sing it.

 

Between you and me...she looks great in red.

Semi-Lame Ass Cooking

For those who know me best, cooking has not been one of my strengths.  I always understood the concept of cooking.  I just never understood how it applied to me.  If I couldn't boil it, microwave it or order it from a nearby eatery you could forget about a fussy meal.  A few free afternoons, remote firmly in my hand , I wound up on the Food Channel.  Imagine my surprise, weeks later, to find out that I am officially now a “foodie” who times her day by the Food Channel programming.  I buy kitchen gadgets and take classes from Williams-Sonoma.  I enjoy reading the forwards of cookbooks.  I watch The Barefoot (rum makes everything better) Contessa everyday at 4:00p.m.  How can you not love someone who says "the cupcakes are just a vehicle for the frosting"?  I marvel at her casualness in the kitchen as well as her dedication to her husband of 38 years.  Dear Jeffrey.  Mind you they live apart during the week.  That may have something to do with it.  Now I only buy "good" vanilla and "good" mayonnaise.  I no longer am afraid of roasting winter vegetables.  I have learned that garlic is my friend.  But most of all, I have learned the importance of lemon zest.  How empty my life was until now.  Dear God, perfect ice cubes again!

 

I grew up in the comfort food generation.  Every good Midwestern mother tailored her cooking skills by picking up recipes in women's magazines while waiting for her children at scouting meetings.  Staples at our house were macaroni and cheese, baked spaghetti, tater tot casserole, chicken and rice and the dreaded meatloaf.  My brother should have been a surgeon.  He could dissect my mom's meatloaf on his plate into three separate piles:  meat, onions and the mystery pile.  He could stuff her brussel sprouts under the table into a secret crevice until they dried out and fell to the linoleum.  I can still hear my Dad shouting "Bobby, do you know why the dog won't come out from underneath the kitchen table?"  Mind-bending and appetizing at the same time.  But I digress.

 

 "It's sooooooper simple..."

 

I  have become addicted to the food shows in the afternoon hours and just when I get used to the idea of really cooking and creating good meals, comes Sandra Lee, Miss Thing, with Semi-Homemade cooking.  My first thought was that she had a sugar daddy who bought mama a time slot on cable.  Bingo.  Just when I get clear focus on cooking techniques comes a show that teaches us how to trick our friends into thinking the meal was home-made.  God, I've been doing that for years.  Teach me something new.  My mind is going and I hate doing Sudoku.  I need visual stimulation.  Everything Sandra teaches is "super simple."  I need complicated now.  Is that so wrong?  I need tips that are more elaborate than "use a hot pan, it helps the food cook quicker."  Furthermore, I don't want to hear one more time that she "loves butter and sour cream."  No way.  Not with that size 2 figure.  Except for the figure, I honestly think I could do a better job with this time slot. 

 

And what about the tablescapes?  Besides putting together a crappy dinner, we are then supposed to coordinate it with a hideous tablescape and some sort of exotic "tini" to drink.  Every episode showcases an alcoholic beverage to go with the lame-ass, I mean, semi-homemade dinner.  Hope the kids can do the dishes while mommy takes a power nap after dinner.     

                                   

 

                                                                                              

 

I can see it now.  Housewives across America serving boxed food for dinner, drunk off their butts with hideous tablescapes that are so overdone.  Kids!  Don't touch the Eiffel Tower display!  It goes with our frozen, I mean home-baked French Fries.  Anyone care for a "Eiffeltini?"  Bien sur!  Mais oui!  Ooohhh la la lame ass....

Give me The Barefoot Contessa and a bottle of Rum anyday.  Please.

                            +

Musn't See T.V.

Nancy DisGrace

 

If not for an occasional trip to the gym and time to kill watching T.V. on the eliptical, I would probably have never seen the Nancy Grace talk show on CNN.  I have decided that she is an insulting entertainer playing the role of television host.  Here were my first thoughts;  other than the frequent rants and rages by Grace there was this uncanny resemblence to Linda Tripp.  Remember Linda from the Monica Lewinsky days?  Unfortunately, much like Linda, I didn't take to Nancy at all.  I found her abrasive and overbearing.  Here is what else I found out.

 

Nancy Grace portrays an expressionless, helmet-haired talking head of the legal persuasion.  But did you know that the reason she sought out a career in law was because her fiance was a victim of a random murder?  This time it's personal...   

  Lovely Linda

She also is an investigative detective, investigator, psychiatrist and psychic.  (Not really, she just plays them on T.V).  So many hats for a CNN Legal Analyst!  Unfortunately, her agenda is creating drama and obscuring facts.  She is not about analyzing and presumption of innocence until proven guilty.  She is about entertainment...if, that is, you are the type who watches a NASCAR race in hope of seeing a spectacular crash..  She appears to know the truth of who did what in any current or not current tabloid crime. Irregardless of new information that comes up, she sticks to her opinion.

 

Case in point:  Trenton Duckett.  In case you have been living under a rock for the last 4 months, Trenton was (and hopefully still is) the 2 year old son of Melinda Duckett.  He was living with his mother in Florida when he suddenly was reported missing by her in August of 2006.  The father was cleared and all fingers pointed to Melinda.

 

 

Cue Nancy Grace.  Ambush Queen.  If anyone knows who done it, Nancy does.  After the pounding, relentless, accusing interview under the guise of CNN getting widespread attention for Trenton, Melinda Duckett shot her head off with her grandfather's shotgun.  With her head blown away Melinda took with her any hope of knowing where her son was and if he was  alive but just stashed somewhere. Nancy had better hope that Melinda did it.  Otherwise it puts her in the unfortunate position of jeopardizing any hope of getting answers for Trenton's family.  But self-important Nancy would deny she played any role in it. 

 

Of course if Nancy had any integrity at all as a journalist or a human being for that matter, she would have thought twice about running the interview of Melinda before she took her life.  Not Nancy.  There were Nielsen ratings at stake!  Pure sleezy entertainment value.  Here's the kicker...the viewership rose after that particular show.  What does that say about us as a nation?  I think we all know.

 

All I can say is let Jon Stewart have a crack at her!  Can anyone say Tucker Carlson?  Gotta run...Nancy Grace is on...