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Thursday, December 6, 2018

with scarves of red tied 'round their throats

This morning I read a thread about the Joy of Cooking and was tweeting my affection for that cookbook, and as I leafed through my battered copy and thought about how the recipes in Joy have fed and nourished my family for the past twenty years I found myself welling up with nostalgia.  Part of it is my love for books, especially those that have educated me and made me a better person, part of it is the holiday season, which is centered around food and family memories, and part of it is that my oldest son, currently still in bed upstairs, sleeping off a night of bingeing "The Legend of Korra," will be leaving next Wednesday for his mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (TM), and our family will be irrevocably changed.  I am a crier anyway, but it's worse now than usual.  My feelings about missions and baptisms and the church in general are complicated and beyond the scope of this particular post, but in a nutshell:  I want him to go, he needs to go, and I hate that he's leaving.  It's not just him being gone, it's also that it begins the emptying of our nest.  In two more years our second child will leave, then our third, then our fourth, and we'll be on to the next phase of our lives.  Which I am excited for!  But the last fiveish years have been the best years of my life, and I have cherished them.  We have loved and joked and argued and played and eaten most of our meals together for a long time now, and I will be sad to see these years end, even if they are being replaced by something else that is (possibly) just as good.  Parenting is a wonderful, heartbreaking endeavor.

Tuesday, November 20, 2018

motherless child can you hear me

We were in Las Vegas for a couple of days last week, which was better than not going anywhere at all, but not much.  I like the Disneyesque trompe l-oeil architecture, the availability of many different kinds of food, and the time-warp neon sections of seventies you can still encounter here and there, but man, do I hate cigarette smoke.  I had a hacking cough the day after I arrived.  And the number of people who have remade their bodies to please the male gaze...it's a little depressing.  It's hard to parse my opinions and figure out which ones are informed by feminism and which by prudishness, but I feel sad when I see somebody whose boobs are so big they look stretched to the bursting point, and when somebody's bodice is so tight it has made welts.  It seems exhausting and uncomfortable.  But!  People get to spend their money and live their lives the way they see fit.

Saturday, November 10, 2018

that in the spring becomes the rose

This morning I read the president's tweet about the wildfires in California being due to gross forestry mismanagement and, like, there he goes again, running his big stupid mouth about something he is a reverse-expert in.  There goes another tally mark in the column of offenses of our Dunning-Kruger president.  And it's frustrating to know that he's so impervious to maturation or growth that at no point will he gain enough knowledge to begin to realize how ignorant and incompetent he is.  And I assume he's going to whatever hell awaits us all after this life, but the thing is?  He's already in hell, right now.  In Mormon belief, being damned means you no longer progress.  Part of what makes hell so terrifying is that you live for the rest of eternity never learning or changing or growing--and that's how he's chosen to live the only mortal life he gets.  He's put himself in that prison voluntarily!  It boggles the mind.  


But I guess we are all damned by choice, it's kind of how the whole thing works--you know the difference between good and evil and you choose evil. 

Good talk, everyone.  See you all in hell.  

Friday, January 19, 2018

my wild Irish rose

Image result for a tree grows in brooklyn

This is the most beautiful, heartbreaking, wonderful book I have read in a long time.  It's not sad though!  I mean, it is sad, very sad, in many places, in the ordinary everyday ways that life is sad, but it's also hopeful.  I found it at a used bookstore in town and thought I'd give it a try since I had a vague idea of it being famous.  I'm so glad I did--I cried through the last few pages because I was so sad to see it end.  Please, please read this book.