Sassafras Mama

Newt Bashing

2012-01-26T22:00:00.000-05:00

In the last few days, the mainstream GOP has basically gone on the offensive in opposition to Newt Gingrich, detailing the many ways he isn't qualified to lead anything, let alone the nation. Today, 1996 Republican presidential candidate Bob Dole got in on the fun.

To quote Newt's '90s nemesis Bill Clinton, I don't have a dog in this hunt. I'm an Obama supporter, after all. I should find the Newt-bashing a kind of cheap entertainment. But I don't. Instead, I find myself wondering where all these people were in 1994, when Newt unleashed his Contract with America invective on the nation. I wonder where they were when Newt went after the Clintons with his ridiculous accusations. Where were they in the last few years, when the mainstream media started treating Gingrich as a legitimate GOP-idea man? The answer: None of them stood up to Newt and his nonsense. None of them opposed his spiteful brand of politics. When it worked for them, why they were all for it.

Now they are reaping what they've sown. I hope that the nation doesn't suffer a similar fate.

Embracing Age

2012-01-25T20:03:00.001-05:00

I have very dark hair and a few years back, when grey hairs started to arrive, I added highlights. For the most part, I didn't look back. Every once in a while, faced with the rather daunting cost of professional highlighting, I would pause and ask myself if all this nonsense was worth it. Then I would spend the money and highlight away.

Two years ago, summer arrived and I fell behind on the highlighting. As I was dragging my feet to make the hair color appointment, I caught a glimpse of my hair in the rear view mirror and realized that it really wasn't the dark color that it had always been. The highlights had turned my hair much lighter; I was no longer a dark brunette. But I prefer the darker color. In that moment, I reversed course and let the highlights grow out. Secretly, I hoped that I'd have a nice grey streak worthy of Cruella DeVille. Instead, I managed the natural color of a women in her mid-40s…dark brown with streaks of grey.

It's been an experiment in aging honestly. It turns out that isn't so easy. In a nation of women who fight aging, a woman who has decided to be comfortable in her own skin seems to be a discomfiting notion. My hair stylist advises that I should cover it up; she sees it as part of routine maintenance (you change the oil in your car, she reasons, and you also cover your grey hairs). A few folks have issued some sly asides. Though I've had the occasional pause, for the most part, I was committed to aging honestly

Then, last week, as we were watching presidential candidates on the telly, JT noted the color of Mitt Romney's hair, commenting that he had no idea Mr. Romney was so old. Interested, I asked how old JT thought Romney was. "I don't know," the boy said. "But look at all that grey hair. He must be old!"

I'm the last person to defend Mitt Romney, and 11 year old boys should hardly be the judge of much. But I was interested to note just how negatively JT reacted to grey hair. In that moment, I decided that aging honestly wasn't just about me being comfortable with myself. It is about teaching my son that there's a beauty in truthful aging that no bottle of hair color can ever hope to better.

Envy

2012-01-24T20:20:00.000-05:00

The release of Mitt Romney's tax returns and the consequent discussions of how much tax he pays on his millions has me thinking fondly of Huey Long and his Share the Wealth campaign.

Romney would no doubt accuse Senator Long of "envy" and "class warfare." And for his part, Long wouldn't bother to deny it, which is why I still have a soft spot for his populist proposals.

I've got no similar soft spot for Romney's nonsense…every time he opens his audio-animatronic mouth I am reminded why I am not a Republican.

Primarily Nuts

2012-01-23T19:00:00.001-05:00

One of the things I find tiresome about presidential primaries is the degree to which the early voting states smugly assert their qualifications to be the first arbiters of who is qualified to govern the rest of us. I'm alternately bemused and annoyed at the degree to which these states order us to trust their judgment; the not-so-subtle subtext being that they know better than us, residents of inferior states, who should run the government. This year's GOP primary has brought us special evidence of the peculiarity of this arrangement.

First up was Iowa, a state asserting it's midwestern heartland qualifications. I could go on and on about how ridiculous this claim is, but I shall confine myself to a few criticisms. First up, your state is losing population to the rest of the nation. If the Hawkeye state is so damned awesome, why are your people fleeing? Second, the butter cow. I could endorse a cow carved with butter if you then served up the butter cow with some fresh-baked bread. But you save the butter and carve next year's cow from the same rancid butter year-after-year, Iowa. If that's not a metaphor for something tarnished about your state, I don't know what is. Finally, I offer up the evidence that you can't even count your own ballots. Sorry, Iowa, but I just can't trust your (cornfed) judgment.

Maybe there is hope to be found in New Hampshire? I will freely admit that I've never been to the Granite State and I don't know any native New Hampshirites. But New Hampshire's primary claim to presidential power is that they've always gone first and that they are moderates. Claiming shotgun on the primary process is not a qualification, New Hampshire. It's an annoyance. As for your so-called moderation, those "live free or die" license plates imply a rather immoderate solution, don't you think?

On the other hand, at least New Hampshire isn't the nullifying crazytown also known as South Carolina, a state once characterized as "too small for a republic and too large for an insane asylum." That idea was first offered up by South Carolinian James Petigru more than 150 years ago but remains just as accurate today. As if that wasn't enough, may I point out that South Carolina's GOP voters just endorsed the candidacy of an ethically-challenged, megalomaniac presidential candidate named Newt? Seriously, WTF, South Carolina?

On the other hand, at least the Palmetto State isn't Florida, a state whose voters recently elected a felonious governor. Sure, the weather is nice. But other than that and the orange juice, you bring nothing to the table, Florida. In 2000, your ridiculousness landed us 8 years of George W. Bush in the White House, which should have caused the rest of us to kick you out of the union or take away your voting rights. Or both. Florida, your state is where crazy goes to retire. The last thing I want from you is advice on whom we should elect president.

It's true that I live in New Jersey, a state that is the butt of any number of jokes. Not to mention Governor ~~Jersey Shore~~ Christie. But I'm not asking for the Garden State to vote first. I'm merely noting that the system we currently employ is ridiculously stupid. The time has come for organized regional primaries. Let's get a plan, America. If not, we deserve the nonsense that is coming our way.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Judgmental Adolescent edition

2012-01-22T20:05:00.001-05:00

The backstory: JT and I joined a bunch of Upper School Ceramics students at their annual kiln trip. I'm useless when it comes to Ceramics, so I spent Saturday grading midterm exams and cooking boatloads of food for the hungry teenagers. JT played in the snow and otherwise observed the kids. When I finished grading essays, I was ready to celebrate. And that's where the trouble started.

Mama: I've fished grading essays. Woot, woo! I'm going to celebrate by playing some music. What should I play?

JT (dubious): Okay, but don't embarrass yourself.

Mama: Ouch.

JT: I'm just saying'

I opted for some Clapton. It remains unclear whether or not I embarrassed myself.

Gym Rant

2012-01-20T06:17:00.000-05:00

My gym has acquired 8 new elliptical machines, a treasure trove of workout riches that delights me beyond reason. What doesn't delight me beyond reason is all the New Year's Resolution gym-goers, who sometimes hog the good machines and who otherwise can't seem to manage anything without ample instruction. I'd like to say that I support you in your New Year's Resolution, newbie-at-the-gym, and in principle, I do. In practice, I want you to get the hell out of my way.

Case in point: Wednesday, when I had already begun running on one of the shiny new elliptical machines, the woman on the machine next to me kept trying to make eye contact. I ignored her for some time, though it was a challenge, thanks to the way she wiped down the machine with the antibacterial wipe. I've never seen someone so thorough with the job…..was she going to climb on it for a workout or did she plan to French-kiss the machine? It was unclear. Anyway, there I am, a good 5 minutes into my workout, concentrating on the task at hand and avoiding even a glance in her direction, complete with magazine on the reading rack and headphones in my ears, when Antibacterial Sue actually touched me to ask for help.

Touching a stranger at the gym? In New Jersey? Lady, you could have been shot.

I smiled a thin little smile and kept running, while encouraging her to talk with the scary personal trainer who roams the area frightening gym clients. The Terrifying Trainer has a Cuban accent and Stalinist attitude and wears so much makeup and hair highlights that she's succeeded in becoming a gross caricature of a human being. She looks like a stern clown in gym shoes. Like everyone else at the gym, I'm afraid of her.

Antibacterial Sue was not up to the challenge of asking Terrifying Trainer for help, choosing me instead. So I relented and showed the newbie how to program the machine for a happy little workout. I was nice, warning her to go easy until she got used to the machine. Then I returned to my sweaty workout and my mean little little thoughts.

The War Against Girls

2012-01-18T14:43:00.002-05:00

The next time someone tells me that it's okay to say "you guys" when you are speaking of a group that includes girls....the next time that someone complains when I use the word "frosh" when speaking of 9th graders....or suggests that they don't understand what I mean when I use the phrase "under-class members" when I am speaking of what was traditionally called "under classmen"...or suggests in some other subtle way that I'm just being overly sensitive when I talk about gender inclusion, I am going to direct them to go and watch "It's a Girl" or read about it here.

There are 200 million missing little girls in this world, victims of infanticide driven by a patriarchal worldview.

And that is not okay.

Not Like Us

2012-01-16T20:05:00.002-05:00

I didn't have much to say about the Iowa Caucus and had less to say about last week's primary in New Hampshire. Quite frankly, these contests weren't really contests. I'm wondering if South Carolina, scheduled for this Saturday, will offer up much in terms of an actual contest. Which is to say I remain convinced that Mitt Romney, who has been running for president for the last 6 years, will this time score his party's nomination.

Of course, Romney's likely nomination does not really reflect a great deal of actual enthusiasm among his fellow Republicans. In fact, I've found it rather surprisingly how very little Republicans of all stripes don't like Romney. It could be his alleged flip-flop status (and the examples here are legion), it may be his tenure as the head of a Bain Capital, a company that made money off of people's misery. But I suspect that it's his naked ambition that damages his chances. Romney wants to be president so badly that his obvious longing for the post gets in the way of his humanity. People are creeped out.

We want exceptional leaders to serve as our president, but we also want someone to whom we can relate; someone who makes us proud of who we are and who we can be. Romney is not that person. With Huntsman's withdrawal, he's gotten one step closer to the nomination. But Mitt Romney is as far away as ever from being able to relate well with middle America. And that doesn't bode well.

2/18 update: If Romney releases his tax records and he really does only pay at the 15% rate, he will have made my point for me. Thanks, pal!

Real Life Observations of JT

2012-01-13T20:55:00.000-05:00

"When you find cat hair in your mouth, it's best to not ask why."

Words to live by.

Inappropriate

2012-01-12T19:00:00.001-05:00

In pursuit of custard cups for some of my nefarious cooking goals, I lured T to Pier One with me this past weekend. And now I am pleased to present evidence that you can't take us anywhere.

Real Life Conversations at School: Things I Didn't Say edition

2012-01-11T20:15:00.000-05:00

The backstory: My school has a rotating schedule and classes don't meet every day of the week. So, though we have 7 possible periods in the schedule, only 5 meet each day. Right before midterm exams (next week), we have two days in which all 7 periods meet. Near as I can tell, no one looks forward to these days.

Me: Don't forget that we meet both Thursday and Friday this week.

Student X: I hate that schedule. Every teacher will assign homework and we'll have more homework than ever.

The student who made that comment regularly opts out of submitting homework for my class and so here's what I wanted to say (but didn't…though it took all my powers of self control).

Me: You never turn in homework for my class anyway, so why does that matter?

Instead, I paused and then diplomatically noted that it will be a busy couple of days for all of us. I am such a grown up.

Home Brew

2012-01-10T19:00:00.002-05:00

Just before New Year's, I came across this recipe for homemade Irish cream. Let's just say that my boot leggin' ancestors made me do it.

For the record, I'm not sure whether the giant Mason jar, scored from T's collection for my nefarious purposes, makes this look charming and retro or like some kind of demon has taken possession of my fridge. Either way, I don't care. Bottoms up!

An Open Letter to Rick Santorum

2012-01-08T19:25:00.001-05:00

JT has two moms. He's always had two moms and though we've not been raising him as a couple since he was six, that doesn't change the essential fact that his is a non-traditional family. Add in his mom's girlfriends and close family friends, and JT is a boy surrounded by lesbians.

He knows plenty of women who aren't gay, of course, and he treats the two moms element of his world as the perfectly normal fact of life that it is. He knows that many families are different from his but that doesn't matter to him. What matters to him is that he is a well-loved boy; one whose arrival in the world nearly 12 years ago was much-anticipated and much-sought. With the exception of one incident when he was in the 4th grade, he's never encountered a moment where the value of his family has been in doubt. Even then, he wasn't entirely sure that it was his family that had been insulted. That's not how JT perceives the world.

Last Friday morning, JT and I were going about our usual getting-ready-for-school routine. We stood in the hallway upstairs, listening to the news as he combed his unruly hair. The story on NPR was about you, Mr. Santorum, an outgrowth of the massive amount of media attention you've enjoyed since your second place finish in the Iowa Caucus. The story outlined a number of your political views and we heard your voice speaking about gays and their families. And before I could turn off the radio, in one moment, Mr. Santorum, you condemned me, my family, and my 11 year old son. There was a pause after your ridiculous invective and in that moment, JT looked at me and said, "Doesn't he know that I'm just a normal boy?"

Of course, you don't understand that. It's one of the main reasons you are not the least bit qualified to serve in elective office. I could endure your opposition to gay rights, your ridiculous belief that family breakdown has caused our current economic difficulties, even your opposition to a woman's right to birth control. But I will not sit idly by while you condemn people's children; my child.

For the record, Mr. Santorum, my son likes baseball and Harry Potter. He loves his grandparents and likes to talk to them on the phone. He's a fan of college sports, and he likes ride his bike, draw pictures, and play outside. He likes to play games on his iPad and listen to music on his iPod. He's kind-hearted to animals. He helps his mama around the house and his favorite food is pizza. He's in the 6th grade and (mostly) he completes his schoolwork on time. He plans to go to college and dreams of being a baseball player when he grows up. He's just a normal boy.

He's the face of our nation's future and even though he's only 11 years old, I've got a lot more confidence in JT and his generation than I have in you. Even so, I'll thank you to be careful about your words, sir. My son is listening. And he's just a boy.

Gift Idea

2012-01-07T23:59:00.001-05:00

At a gas station near T's house, just before Christmas, I came across a blow up Santa, perched in his chair right next to a vending machine.

But it wasn't just any vending machine. Look closer, Internet. That's a machine dispensing bait...the Bait Vendor. Awesome. Next year, everyone on my holiday list gets bait.

Tangerine Tango

2012-01-06T19:00:00.000-05:00

Seductive. Sophisticated. Dramatic. I'm not speaking of myself (though your confusion is natural, Internet, don't feel bad). No, I'm speaking of the 2012 Pantone color of the year.

To the rest of us, this color could be best described as bright orange but Pantone doesn't make its money by providing honest descriptions. These people have something to sell, after all. So Tangerine Tango it is.

Last year's color, Honeysuckle, was supposed to inspire us to get back to work. Tangerine Tango will continue to crack the whip. Pantone reports that it will "provide the energy boost we need to recharge and move forward." I think that it might also be one of those post-workout shakes my gym is forever trying to sell. In a more disturbing part of the press release, one sure to attract the suspicions of the GOP presidential contenders, I've learned that ,"...Tangerine Tango marries the vivaciousness and adrenaline rush of red with the friendliness and warmth of yellow, to form a high-visibility, magnetic hue that emanates heat and energy.” I'm pretty confident that's not legal in all 50 states, Pantone.

Real Life Conversations at School: Letter of the Law edition

2012-01-05T19:55:00.000-05:00

The backstory: My school has a dress code and, among other things, the students are not permitted to wear blue jeans. Leggings are also prohibited. But, as this recent conversation with a student demonstrates, not everyone agrees about what these words mean.

Me: You know that blue jeans aren't in dress code, right?

Student J: Yes. These aren't blue jeans. They're jeggings.

Me: By which you mean blue jean leggings? Leggings aren't allowed either.

Student J: They aren't jeans and they aren't leggings. They're jeggings.

Me: You should go to law school.

This is a battle I'm doomed to lose.

Unsolicited Advice for Republican Primary Candidates Not Named Romney

2012-01-04T11:30:00.002-05:00

If every one of you just skipped New Hampshire, then Romney's victory there, which looks like a sure bet in the light of current trends, would be hollow. Instead you could all go to South Carolina, where the weather is much nicer. The crazy among you (read: every single candidate save Huntsman) could then duke it out among the crazy faithful in the Palmetto state while Romney trudged through the snow and ice. He'd win the Granite State, of course, but he was going to do so anyway. As consolation, he'd be hampered in South Carolina (or be forced to spend his money there to be on the airwaves two weeks earlier).

Just a thought.

Update, for those of you who haven't heard about Rick Santorum's anal sex problem.

Obligatory Iowa Caucus Post

2012-01-03T19:14:00.002-05:00

In case you just crawled out of your cave, the GOP Iowa Caucus is tonight. This is the night when Iowans meet with their neighbors, swap jello salads, and cast a vote for the candidate who was the most successful panderer to their desire to feel important.

The media will assure you that it's likely to be a good night for Mitt Romney, Rick Santorum, and Ron Paul. The remaining Republican candidates are unlikely to fare as well in the process. I don't have much to add to this crowd-sourced wisdom except to note what seems to me to be the elephant in the room: no matter what happens tonight (and likely for every other primary election to follow in the days and months ahead), Mitt Romney is going to be the GOP nominee.

If Rick Santorum is crowned Iowa Prom King tonight (and he may very well be), it will be his moment in the sun. But he is unlikely to metastasize that victory into greater electoral success (see: Mike Huckabee in 2008).

So. Mitt it is. Blech.

Raccoon Girl

2012-01-02T19:00:00.001-05:00

When I was a kid, my family often visited my grandparents up at a place called Foresta in Yosemite National Park. One of the highlights of those visits were the local raccoons, whom we fed. Yes, you read that correctly: we fed the wildlife. I can remember sitting inside my Great Aunt Mary's cabin when the raccoons would arrive for their supper, kibbles of dog food that we placed out in tin pie pans for their dining pleasure. If we were late with the vittles, the bandits would bang the pie pans and, on occasion, pull open the screen door, allowing it to slam shut as a reminder that they were ready to dine. We'd watch them lick the dog kibble before eating their fill and then waddling away from the cabin's deck.

Though we'd now be kicked out of the World Wildlife Fund and locked up for this sort of nonsense, at the time we thought it was terribly charming. And this happy childhood memory has left me with a soft spot for raccoons. That's a good thing because when T saw me searching a basket looking for my jewelry she announced that I looked "like a raccoon pawing through a dumpster." Lucky for her, I found that to be a compliment. In all fairness, it was also accurate.

For Christmas, she put an end to this disorganized nonsense, with the gift of a lovely jewelry box to hold my treasures.

Everything has a spot and I'll now be a great deal more organized as I sort through my jewelry options.

It's true that I'll look less like a raccoon when I pick out some earrings.

But that's okay....I still have a closet or two to sort through.

January 1: Frontyard Flowerbed

2012-01-01T20:05:00.000-05:00

For the last few years, I've started each month with a photo of something in my garden. It's a welcome opportunity to mark the changing of the seasons and time. Last year, I chose to write about my backyard clematis vine, though the venture was unsuccessful, largely because of a brief dry spell during which I dropped the ball and didn't get the plant enough water. The clematis and I have worked out our issues and things should be better next year, but the vine still deserves a year off. This year, I'm going to make a monthly photo of the flower bed on the northeast side of my front years. The bed features quite a few plants. There is a rose of Sharon tree.

There are two azalea bushes and a juniper.

There is plenty of ivy and some hostas live there as well. In addition, it's a bed where I slip in some daffodil and tulip bulbs each fall.

It was unseasonably warm today, so I planted the last of my spring bulbs, a fitting tribute to the first day of the new year.

In Praise of Uncertainty

2011-12-31T19:00:00.001-05:00

A few days ago, I pulled together a collection of my favorite photos from 2011; pictures that marked the year that was. I set it to a soundtrack of my favorite song of all time and then I watched it over and over again. And I'm me, so I cried as I watched the pictures. JT came across me, sitting on the sofa with tears coursing down my cheeks. This is not an unfamiliar sight to my boy; but he still stopped in his tracks, "Are you okay?" he asked.

I'm just fine. In fact, I'm better than ever.

Six years ago, when my life went to hell in one day, I kept insisting that I could cope better with the adversity if I could just read ahead to the final chapters in the book of my life. That's not how it works, of course, and I spent a lot of time over those years making peace with uncertainty. I'm me, of course, so I made my way toward peace reluctantly, sometimes merely dragging my feet and sometimes kicking and screaming.

I started 2011 on the most even footing I've ever been on and that feeling of standing on a solid surface gave me the courage to once again venture into the world of uncertainty. And then uncertainty brought me love and contentment the likes of which I could have never imagined. For me, that is the happy story of 2011. I'd still like to read ahead to see a glimpse of how my story will end, but the foreshadowing of this year has me convinced that there are some happy chapters in the future. I'll take it.

Happy 2012, everyone. May you know blessings and good cheer.

Food Friday: Herb Oil

2011-12-30T19:00:00.001-05:00

Usually, food Friday recipe postings are recipes I developed (or recipes I've inherited from family). But today's food Friday is a recipe that I found in the New York Times Magazine's weekly food column in late November. This olive herb oil has quickly become a staple in my fridge, handy for all sorts of uses. It can be doubled (or halved) as needed. I store mine in a mason jar, which makes it as attractive as it is useful.

That's happy.

Doing Kafka Proud

2011-12-29T18:05:00.001-05:00

My house was built in 1930 and, like many houses of that era, has a gas meter in the basement. The meter itself is new, having been replaced a few years back, but its basement location means that the meter can only be read by the utility company when someone is home to let them in. In the months when no one is home, they estimate my gas consumption. When they finally get in to read the meter, they correct the bill for any estimation errors. In the nearly seven years that I have lived here, every time the estimate is corrected, it shows that PSE&G owes me, not the reverse. In other words, PSE&G never has to wait for my money.

Every once in a while, the company calls me or includes a notice on my bill warning me that they must read the meter. Or else. When that happens, I call PSE&G and schedule a meter reading and on the appointed day, I stay home to let the meter reader into the basement. This happened most recently in September and the next month my folks were here when the meter reader arrived on October 18. My dad let him in to the basement; seconds later the meter reader left. I figured that I was all set.

So I was somewhat surprised this afternoon when I received a letter from the utility company complaining that they hadn't read my meter in 12 months. The letter noted that PSE&G had sent me two warnings on my monthly bills and then delivered the big threat: unless they read the meter, they might "disconnect my service for non-access." I was instructed to call PSE&G at once.

Before calling the utility, I got out my most recent bill (it came in yesterday's mail), the one that supposedly warned me that PSE&G needs to read the meter. Please note that not only is the alleged notice not present…

…but the bill also shows that PSE&G read the meter in the month of December (in fact, I was informed by the nice men who replaced my gas line that they had read the meter when they were here earlier this month).

Nonetheless, I'm not one to ignore the threat of utility cut-off, and so I called PSE&G to check in. I wended my way through the computerized voice service and was finally connected with Dave, who was quite friendly. My man Dave confirmed that the meter reader had been here on October 18, though there is no evidence that he actually read the meter. When I explained that I had recently received a bill which indicated that the meter had been read in December, Dave was at a loss. When I asked whom I could speak to about the letter threatening to cut off my service, Dave said it was a computer-generated letter and there was no one to whom I could speak. Then he asked if I would like to schedule a meter reading.

At a loss, I agreed to schedule a reading and then asked the utility to install a device to permit remote readings. "I'm home tomorrow," I hopefully noted. Dave consulted the calendar and proposed February 1st. That day, PSE&G will read my meter and install a device to permit remote readings. Still a little nervous about the threat to cut-off my service, I asked Dave again about the letter, noting again that I pay my bill every month.

"I've never heard of us cutting off service for meter reading," he advised.

"Then why the threatening letter?" I asked.

Trapped in the ninth ring of bureaucratic hell as he apparently is, Dave did Kafka proud: he had no answer. And with that, our unsatisfying conversation was at an end.

Pretty Packages

2011-12-28T19:00:00.000-05:00

I love wrapping packages at all times of the year, though Christmas is my favorite, largely because of the assortment of ribbons and papers I've collected over the years. I've put the holiday wrappings away for the season, but I've still got the pictures I made of a few of this year's pretty packages.

Born to Ride

2011-12-27T19:00:00.002-05:00

As I wheeled JT's Christmas bike through the store, a number of people smiled at me and two shoppers actually stopped me to point out how happy it made them to see a bike being purchased for Christmas. "That's a real Christmas surprise!" one of them exclaimed. JT happily agrees and was most eager to set out for a Christmas morning ride.

To modernize his old-fashioned biking fun, he added his new iPod (thanks, Grandma and Grandpa!). On Christmas day as he rode up and down the block, T caught sight of his head happily bobbing to the music. He couldn't ride his bike today because it's raining, but he's got big plans for the days and months ahead.

Christmas 2011

2011-12-26T21:05:00.000-05:00

We enjoyed a very merry Christmas, filled with happy traditions that we had the pleasure of sharing with T, laughter, and some much-needed relaxation. The tree was lovely.

Christmas Eve snacks were tasty.

This year, the luminaries didn't explode in a fire.

Santa treated us very well.

And the man in red was was nicely rewarded for his efforts.

Christmas supper with the R-K family was a happy success.

And we all enjoyed some rest.

We hope that your Christmas was also a happy celebration.

Pretty Treats

2011-12-24T17:05:00.000-05:00

For holiday gifts, T and I packed up mason jars with cookie mix and then gave them to friends. We had great fun organizing the project and, though I say it myself, I think that the results were a great success.

'Tis the Season

2011-12-24T07:20:00.001-05:00

Behold the party fridge.

Ready for all of your brussels sprout, cold soda, and chilled adult beverage needs.

Winter Solstice

2011-12-23T07:20:00.001-05:00

Only JT would spend his Winter Solstice playing in shorts.

Yes, he's outside.

Full disclosure: temperatures are nice and mild. And what better way to enjoy the day's 9.5 hour allotment of daylight? In any case, it's not entirely his fault. He's saddled with a bad roll model.

The Return of Family

2011-12-22T09:25:00.000-05:00

Of the many hard adjustments to life as a single mama was the loss of family Saturday nights. In its place were two Saturday nights each month with JT and I as a family of two and then two Saturday nights on my own. I settled into a happy-enough routine with this pattern but it often felt like I was stuck driving down a narrow lane, prone to veering off into dark territory with memories of other, happier ways to spend my weekends.

T's entrance into our lives made everything brighter and offered the happy prospect of the return of family weekends. As much as I wanted satisfying Saturdays to simply materialize overnight, that sort of comfort can't be forced. I was wise enough to realize that we three must find our own way to be a family and I was willing to embrace the uncertainty in pursuit of the goal.

So we've been patiently navigating our togetherness. T has been instrumental to our success, patiently giving JT the space to be 11 (or, more accurately 11-teen) and handling his moods and sass with grace. We're getting there and it's brought me such contentment. With T by my side, it's like I found a missing piece of my life; one that belongs to a different puzzle, the construction of which has brought me a greater happiness than I could have ever imagined.

GOP Crazy Town

2011-12-21T09:05:00.000-05:00

Over at Nate Silver's blog is a handy chart of up-to-date polling data on the upcoming GOP contests. You can find it here. Spoiler alert: the Iowa caucus and early Republican primaries are still a cluster of crazy.......though there are some faint signs that Republican voters are beginning to realize that candidate Newt Gingrich is off-the-charts nuts.

I must note that I'm slightly relieved: the mere whisper of the words President Gingrich scares the hell out of me. Which is not to say that I find the notion of a President Romney comforting........just that my "worst case scenario" plans are slightly different were he to be elected (e.g., more time to get to Canada).

I still maintain that President Obama will do just fine against either of these chuckleheads, especially if the House Republicans keep handing him such obvious opportunities to point out that they ~~can't~~ won't govern. Still, I expect an anxious 2012.

Real Life Conversations with T: Know Thyself edition

2011-12-20T10:28:00.000-05:00

The backstory: I'm not particularly effective at sitting still, a fact that I sometimes forget but that is painfully obvious to anyone who spends time with me, as last night's end-of-the-day conversation with T revealed.

T: How was your first day of winter break?

S: Busy, surprisingly busy.

T: Oh, honey. Have you met yourself?

Enough said.

A Teacher's Life

2011-12-19T09:30:00.001-05:00

Plenty of critics look at a school teacher's schedule and conclude that they too would love to have a two week winter break and summers off. Well, fair enough. But until you've spent your days in a classroom and seen how the time plays out, I just don't want to hear from you. A good teacher; an effective teacher, is ON from the moment she steps out of her car onto the campus. Her entire day is devoted to the needs of others and these others are kids, so they don't always recognize a boundary to their demands. A successful teacher gently moves her students to a place where they understand that the world doesn't revolve around them. In the process, the teacher is always aware that for all their bluster and seeming confidence, they are still kids, sometimes far more sensitive than anyone realizes.

And, yes, it's an often-uttered platitude that kids are our future…..but it's also true. They must be encouraged to be creative and confident problem-solvers for life. For that to happen, they must enjoy learning. They must see the complexity of the world as well as the inter-connectedness. No amount of any subject matter will ever be enough, so we must expose them to everything and teach them to be lifelong learners who continue to thirst for knowledge. Our children need art and algebra; gym and science; some music and foreign languages to go with their english and history class. They need it all.

Then we must take a break and allow our children and their teachers to enjoy some lazy days of quiet and rest. In our house today, we'll be availing ourselves of some well-earned relaxation. I highly recommend it.

Winter Break

2011-12-17T08:19:00.001-05:00

To the uninitiated, a day back in high school is a rather energetic affair. Teenagers are loud, with little volume control, and a whole lot of enthusiasm. That is true most any day of the year but on the day before a well-deserved Winter Break, the enthusiasm comes close to shattering the brick walls. This year's day-before-break didn't disappoint.

I should have known I was in for it when one of my best students, a quiet, conscientious young woman who is unfailingly prepared for class, raised her hand Thursday and asked, "are we going to do something fun tomorrow?" My usual response to this question is a blank look followed by the announcement that we always do something fun……..but this time I knew that answer wasn't going to fly.

We did spend a good deal of time yesterday playing school (I got to be the teacher…..and here's where my sister has some very unpleasant flashbacks to her youth and the weekends she was forced to play school with me). We also had some fun. And at the end of the day, I walked out of the building both tired and glad; glad of the blessings of a job I love. And gladder still of the two weeks vacation that lie ahead.

Oh, New Jersey

2011-12-15T18:00:00.000-05:00

The other day T and I pulled into a local diner for some breakfast. It was busy and most of the parking spaces were filled, thus explaining the choice of this driver.

It may be that all of the nation now conducts themselves as if they have a Constitutional right to a parking spot close to the door, though I suspect otherwise. I think this is just a New Jersey condition.

Conquistador of Cookies

2011-12-14T19:00:00.001-05:00

Assured that I really meant it when I announced that I would be baking 30 dozen cookies for my students, T dubbed me the Conquistador of Cookies.   I like it and shall henceforth demand that everyone call me by that name.

Baking cookies for my classes has been an annual holiday tradition for me. This year, with 85 students in my orbit, it's a rather complicated culinary affair. The rule of thumb is that I provide 3 cookies for each student. I like to make a variety of treats to satisfy all palates.

Each class's cookie platter featured:
    - rocky road fudge
    - peanut butter cookies
    - snickerdoodles
    - peppermint chocolate chip cookies
    - tollhouse bars
    - Molasses spice cookies
    - iced sugar cookies
    - sugar cookies
    - thumbprint cookies

Cookie day is now a two-day event in my classroom; three classes got their treats today. The remaining classes and my homeroom will be feasting tomorrow. It makes me happy how pleased they are with this simple, homemade pleasure. It's yet one more reason to love what I do.

Pretty Packages

2011-12-13T19:00:00.000-05:00

It's Secret Santa time again and, as usual, I've enjoyed the process of wrapping packages to leave someone a little surprise each day.

That's happy! What else?

Iron Kibble Bowl

2011-12-12T19:00:00.000-05:00

The other day it came time to open a new bag of kitty kibble. This is an exciting development in the hard life of Tiger and Lucy; one that requires close supervision as my competency is in question.

Once I filled their bowl (and let me assure you that despite the anxious cats you see, the bowl was never empty), they ate with a a vigor that implied they'd never eat again. Lucy tossed kibble on the floor, which is her favorite way to torture me.

It's a rough life for a pet in Sassafras House.

Christmas Tree 2011

2011-12-09T18:55:00.001-05:00

There is something extraordinarily magical about a Christmas tree. Each year's tree manages to be the most beautiful tree ever, a yuletide sleight of hand that reflects the joy of the simple treats of the season.

Or maybe its just the pretty packages underneath?

The Nominees

2011-12-08T21:20:00.000-05:00

On Sunday, with temps just north of 60 degrees, we headed to a local farm to select our Christmas tree. There were many candidates.

Several trees received a cursory review of their application for the job.

This tree earned an interview.

As did this one.

I was determined to avoid the 2010 error: selecting a tree that was larger than our house. So this otherwise lovely tree was rejected.

The winner was finally selected and then cut down by the handy T, who wielded a saw without cutting off her hand, a task I was unlikely to manage.

Then we all took a ride on the back of the tractor.

The tree was trussed up and tied to the car for a trip to Sassafras House.

We decorated it on Sunday night. Tiger and Lucy continue to be most thrilled with the new inmate. Pictures of the final product will be posted in the next few days. Spoiler alert: it's lovely!

Harry Potter and the Big Stack of Books

2011-12-07T20:02:00.001-05:00

Just before Thanksgiving, JT finally agreed to read the first book in the Harry Potter series. I'd been urging this idea on him for years and he resisted, explaining to me, "I've already seen the movies." But once he got started on the series, he was like a junkie, eagerly turning page after page, recapping the most exciting elements of the books, announcing that the movies weren't nearly as good, and negotiating for a just a few more minutes of reading at every bedtime. He was a pretty good reader before, but this development has been remarkable for the passion and excitement it's engendered. I know that I'm hardly the first parent to remark on the power of the Harry Potter books but, wow, I really had no idea. It's truly remarkable. He's reading book five right now and expects to finish before the night is over. Book six is at the ready on his nightstand, prepared to absorb him with the magic of it all.

Modern Conveniences

2011-12-06T20:17:00.000-05:00

Last Thursday night, we arrived home to find a bright orange notice on the doorknob. It would seem that PSE&G, my local gas and electric utility, needed my attention.

I called the number at once and was told that my gas line needed to be replaced. I'd need to be home for the job, they reported. So I took a look at my calendar and said "I'll be home on winter break the week of December 19. How about then?" There was a pause and then B, the friendly utility worker on the line asked, "how about tomorrow?"

I responded by asking, "why the rush?" B's answer, "There's a gas leak in front of your house." Assured that we wouldn't blow to Kingdom Come in the next few minutes, I said I'd take a day early next week. B hung up to check the utility's calendar then called me back and asked, "how about Saturday?"

Internet, when the public utility volunteers that they want to replace your gas line on the weekend, you don't say no. So much for my exciting Saturday morning plans (lying around in my own filth, going to the gym, scoring a Christmas tree, and re-stocking the fridge). I stayed home to get a new gas line.

At 8:30 am on Saturday, as I was still working through my third cup of coffee, a giant truck equipped with a front-loader and a jack hammer pulled up in front of my house and 5 guys piled out. The day had begun.

I will confess that I derived a certain satisfaction at the noise created by all this equipment. Some of my neighbors are of the leaf-blower-in-the-morning dawn variety and I spend far too many early weekend hours awakened by the hum of their leaf-blowing efficiency. Revenge came in the form of a loud jack hammer and front loader. It was richly deserved.

For a few hours, while a new gas line was placed underground, we didn't have any gas service.

Then, with the new line complete, the holes were filled, grass seed was thrown around, the pilot lights on all the gas appliances in the house were re-lit and bingo! we're once again cooking with gas. That we didn't explode in the process is just gravy.

Clutch-Worthy

2011-12-03T09:40:00.002-05:00

I drive a standard transmission car. I prefer a stick shift for lots of reasons (snow, rain, gas mileage, control of the vehicle among crazy NJ drivers) but in heavy traffic, it can be a nuisance because I am a girl protective of her clutch. In my lifetime, I've only replaced one clutch, and that at 90,000 miles. I've driven more than one car to 140,00 miles and still been on the original clutch. So it would be fair to say that I am very careful of the clutch.

In traffic, this makes me that annoying driver who won't inch up when traffic is at a standstill and there is space between me and the next car. I won't inch up as that would require depressing the clutch. And I want that clutch to last, so I engage it as little as possible. Yesterday, stuck in traffic, I had some time to consider this practice and realized that my entire driving philosophy is summed up by whether or not I consider an action clutch-worthy. Yesterday, the driver behind me in his giant hulk of SUV could see that I wasn't moved up within a breath of the bumper ahead of me and it caused him great angst. I took my foot off the brake and let the car roll s-l-o-w-l-y forward down the slight incline - my compromise policy - and it like to kill him. But I didn't care, having deemed those extra inches not to be clutch-worthy.

Oh, my God, Internet: I'm a jerk.

Glittery Goodness

2011-12-01T19:00:00.000-05:00

Pictured below are my toes wearing my newest toenail polish: glitter purple.

I love it and think it's quite charming. But let's be honest: it's entirely possible that it just gives me a creepy wicked witch of the west with glitter vibe.

The (Ironic) Happy Homemaker

2011-11-30T20:47:00.000-05:00

When I first became a single parent, I quickly realized that saving all the household chores for the weekend was not going to be a successful strategy. So I divided up my weekly chores and planned to get a little done every day. Most days, I come home from work, start a load of clothes, hit the gym, make supper, complete some chore, and then get some school work done. But Wednesday is different in that I take a break from the gym and have a little more afternoon time on my hands. So most Wednesday afternoons find me washing a load of clothes (see: mother of a boy), collecting the trash (so that the boy can carry it outside for the Thursday morning pick up) and cleaning the bathrooms. I follow up this festival of cleanliness by making supper. Though I fear it makes me sound like some sort of throwback to the 1950s, I really do find the entire routine of cleaning followed by cooking to be satisfying. I listen to NPR and let my thoughts drift. I enjoy the combination of starting and completing a task in one afternoon.

It could also be that I'm peculiar.

In any case, this afternoon's cleaning festival featured the smell of carrot soup simmering on my stove as I got things spic-and-span. The recipe was from Pioneer Woman and it's worth your time.

I served it with homemade biscuits.

After supper I sat down to draft a lesson on women's liberation for a class I'll be teaching soon. Sometimes life's little ironies are just a little unbelievable, huh?

What's the Matter with Mitt?

2011-11-29T20:16:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago, Nate Silver wrote an unsettling article that looked at the electoral numbers and then predicted that President Barack Obama would surely lose his re-election bid to GOP candidate Mitt Romney. The foundation of Silver's prediction was his conclusion that an incumbent president with moderate approval ratings and slow (or non-existent) economic growth was electorally vulnerable if his opponent was a moderate. Fair enough, as far as it goes. It's certainly reasonable to conclude that an incumbent president confronted by economic difficulties is in a tough spot. But Silver's argument depends on his understanding that of course Republican primary voters will suit up and do what they always do: choose the most electable candidate.

Enter Mitt Romney. He's tan, rested, and ready. And Silver surmised what many other observers on both the left and right have concluded…..surely, the GOP nomination will go to Romney.

Surely.

At the time the Silver article was published, Texas Governor Rick Perry was coming to the end of his tour as the Republican chosen one. Since then, Herman Cain has done a few laps as the GOP leader. In the last few weeks, Newt Gingrich is ascendant. Mitt Romney has yet to do his star turn. I'm wondering if he ever will.

There is a combination of peculiar factors at work here. First, is the degree of dissatisfaction among Republican primary voters. They agree that they don't like Obama, but after that there doesn't seem to be a consistent narrative about what they'd like instead. The Tea Party Republican voters seem to prefer new, inexperienced candidates. Fiscal conservative Republicans (a la former Wyoming Senator Alan Simpson) haven't been at home in the party for years; they're not really active players in the primary process. Social conservatives are as coherent as ever, but they viscerally reject any degree of seeming moderation on their favored trifecta of anti-abortion, anti-gay, overtly religious positions.

Though the fiscal conservatives might could muster a half-hearted cheer on behalf of Romney, the other groups of GOP primary voters just aren't enthusiastic. So Mitt Romney is not yet able to seal the deal. As of this writing, Herman Cain has suspended his campaign, largely due to questions about sexual impropriety and the attendant fund-raising difficulties he's experiencing. But the candidate benefitting from Cain's collapse isn't family-man Romney. Nope, it's the thrice-married, perennially unfaithful, scandal-ridden former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich.

Huh?

I suppose that Romney and his folks will patiently wait this mess out, hopeful that a solid showing in the Iowa Caucus, followed by a victory in the New Hampshire primary, will give his campaign the boost it desperately needs. But I'm not inclined to agree. I look at Romney's opposition for the GOP nomination and can only conclude that if Mitt hasn't yet managed to dispatch Perry, Cain, or Gingrich because of his own obvious skill and strength as a candidate, then I'm not inclined to believe that he ever will.

Falling Behind

2011-11-28T10:40:00.000-05:00

At Thanksgiving supper, we all took a turn saying what we were thankful for. My boy said that he was thankful for having food and shelter. Luckily, he's never been in danger of not having those things. The same cannot be said for children everywhere.

Last spring, I posted a link to a 60 Minutes story about homeless families in Florida. Yesterday, 60 Minutes did a follow-up story on the persistence of homeless children in central Florida. JT and I watched the story together. At one point, he turned to me and said, "I don't want to know about this because it makes my heart hurt." We talked about how we can help and why it's important for all of us to care about this problem. And then we finished watching the story. It's not an easy story to watch, though it's well-worth your time.

Help for these children and their families can be directed here.

Thankful

2011-11-26T10:03:00.000-05:00

Among my favorite things to do in the kitchen is holiday cooking for the people I love. This year's Thanksgiving was no exception; I even got out the roaster and made a turkey.

The turkey was joined by the usual Thanksgiving fare: dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, cranberries, fresh rolls and the like. Along with the people I love, of course.

I am as thankful for these blessings as I have ever been. And so very, very happy.

And Yet

2011-11-24T09:20:00.001-05:00

While we were in Washington D.C. last week, we went to see the Franklin D. Roosevelt monument. Though I'd seen some pictures, I'd specifically avoided too much advance looking. I'm a Roosevelt admirer of the first order and I wanted to see the monument in real time.

It didn't disappoint.

In addition to statues and waterfalls, the monument features Roosevelt's words. They are powerful ideas.

This wall reads: "In these days of difficulty, we Americans everywhere must and shall choose the path of social justice, the path of faith, the path of hope, and the path of love toward our fellow man."

FDR looked for solutions to poverty and inequality, problems we still struggle to solve.

The words next to the men waiting in line for food read, "The test of our progress is not whether we add more to the abundance of those who have much, it is whether we provide enough for those who have too little."

As Congress refuses to address the unemployment problem in this nation, we can look to FDR for condemnation of our failure to take action, "No country, however rich, can afford the waste of its human resources. Demoralization caused by vast unemployment is our greatest extravagance. Morally, it is the greatest menace to our social order."

As we keep open the prison at Guantanamo Bay and evict Occupy Wall Street protesters, President Roosevelt reminds us of the importance of civil rights: "We must scrupulously guard the civil rights and civil liberties of all citizens, whatever their background. We must remember that any oppression, any injustice, any hatred, is a wedge designed to attack civilization."

He reminds us of the horrors of war, "I have seen war on land and sea. I have seen blood running from the wounder. I have seen the dead in the mud. I have seen cities destroyed. I have seen children starving. I have seen the agony of mother's and wives. I HATE WAR."

President Roosevelt knew that we need to steward our natural world, "men and nature must work hand in hand. The throwing out of balance of the resources of nature throws out of balance the lives of men."

Everywhere you turn in this memorial is a reminder of the ideas that saved our nation in the Great Depression and WWII. The ideas are as powerful as they are timeless. I wish I could say that I found this all hopeful, but I didn't. I found it frustrating. There was a time when our challenges were great, greater than they are today. As a nation, we organized and took action; we looked after one another. We were better for it. Today, we know the answers to our problems; history and Roosevelt could be our guide. And yet we refuse to act.

Time

2011-11-23T08:17:00.001-05:00

When I first started work in New Jersey, I struck up a friendship with J, the Spanish teacher who taught across the hall from me. Many mornings, JT and I would stop in to say hi and JT, then age 3, would hop on the desks in J's classroom. It's one of JT's fondest memories of his early years at school.

A few years have passed. J has married M and they moved to two other continents before arriving in Washington D.C., where they've settled for a time. And this summer, they had M, a baby as cute, charming and easy-going as his parents.

Some day soon I hope that M will come visit my classroom and jump on the desks. I think that JT could show him the ropes.

Real Life Observations of JT: Extinct edition

2011-11-21T15:15:00.001-05:00

The backstory: We were at the Natural History Museum in Washington D.C., strolling through the dinosaur display, when JT observed, "Look, Mama. There's your cell phone."

The kid is two steps ahead of me now and he's only 11. Internet, I'm screwed.

Real Life Observations of JT: Security edition

2011-11-19T21:24:00.000-05:00

The backstory: Strolling the Capitol with his new extra long pencil, JT declared it was a wand and he attempted magic everywhere. He was largely unsuccessful. Then we came alongside the Capitol police, with their very scary automatic rifle.

JT looked at L and I and announced, "I don't think that my wand would stand a chance against that guy."

Indeed.

Meanwhile, at the Supreme Court Gift Shop

2011-11-18T21:43:00.001-05:00

On Friday afternoon we headed on over to the Supreme Court to check out the fate of justice. Spoiler alert: Roberts and Scalia are still corporate whores of the first order. As we strolled through the gift shop, I came across the following board game for kids:

Is this really a good idea? I think not. Tomorrow I plan to go out and see if there is an Insurance Fraud for Kids! game to be found.

Fellow traveler L discovered his very own souvenir of American justice: a miniature Supreme Court gavel.

Made in Canada.

Oh, America.

By and For the People

2011-11-17T12:46:00.001-05:00

I'm in Washington D.C for the annual Model Congress trip and we took an afternoon walk over to the the real Congress. After a rainy morning, it was a rather splendid afternoon and as we walked the grounds of the Capitol I was struck again by the splendor of this building and the powerful ideas that created our government.

Deservedly, Congress is at an all-time low in terms of public approval. They seem to lack both the direction and the will to do right by the nation. I wonder if they walk the grounds of this magnificent place and think about the privilege and power of self-government. I fear not; I suspect they've lost sight of their obligations and responsibilities.

I tell my government students that needn't matter; that the power is in the hands of the people. I've read the Constitution and I know how this system works. We have the ability to demand a better government. But do we have the willpower?

Magical

2011-11-15T20:05:00.000-05:00

One of the things that T and I have in common is that we both lived in the midwest. While I have just 8 years of heartland experience on my resume, she's a native, who's done some serious time in a small midwest town. When we first met, we quickly discovered that we had in common a knowledge of the Village Inn, a respect for Dairy Queen, and general amusement at the inevitable small town business which combines shoe repair, gasoline, oil changes, and a liquor store.

And no small town would be complete without a grocery store. In the tiny towns of the midwest, these stores often feature dusty shelves with expired cans of Dinty Moore stew alongside bags of off-brand potato chips. In the small New Jersey town where T lives these days, there is a small market that would seem to resemble the midwest's local food emporiums. But there the comparison ends. T had mentioned before that in terms of space and range of choice available, this place is unbelievable. When I finally visited this weekend, it did not disappoint. Once you open the door it's like you've just stepped into the grocery store equivalent of Hermione Granger's magic purse.

In narrow aisles, with shelves stocked to the (sagging) roof, is row after row of dream-come-true items. My personal favorite is the row featuring cans of spray paint right next to an impressive assortment of potato chips. Juices and spices are in the next aisle down. The liquor section ranges along the back, along with kids' toys, plenty of toiletries, and god-only-knows what else.

Suffice it to note that in the deli case there is a sign advertising the fact that you can order a whole pig (though it takes a week, so you'll have to cool your heels before that bacon is in your belly).

Oh, the possibilities.

Dogwood Monday: Week 7

2011-11-14T12:59:00.002-05:00

As predicted, the dogwood tree lost the last of its leaves last week.

All over my corner of New Jersey the fall leaves are now officially past their prime but the evening and morning sky seems determined to make up for the missing foliage. I made some pictures, but they hardly do the sky justice. For the last few evenings, the setting sun has been bathed in a beautiful orange glow, with a pinkish blue at the margins.

The morning sunrise has been a paler version, with more lavender in the horizon.

We've had some warm days to go with the lovely light and so I've made time to be outside and enjoy the show.

Fall Bouquet

2011-11-13T19:40:00.000-05:00

T doesn't like hothouse flowers but she does like fall leaves, especially those with a mix of colors. In a recent walk in the woods, I collected a few of them for her.

That's happy, what else?

Real Life Conversations with JT: Rated R edition

2011-11-12T11:11:00.000-05:00

The backstory: Friday morning, during our drive to school, JT and I heard a review of a movie just out, the story of J. Edgar Hoover.

Mama: That sounds interesting. Would you like to see it?

JT: It's rated R. So no, Mama. I'm not old enough.

Thank goodness someone in the household is a grown up.

Food Friday: Black Bean Soup

2011-11-11T11:11:00.000-05:00

A cool weekend is on tap around here and that has me thinking about soup. I've got a bunch of soup recipes but this black bean soup stands out as one of my favorites. It's a cold weather mainstay in my house. My recipe comes together quickly, keeps well, and the taste is beyond compare. Make some today!

1 tablespoon olive oil
3 medium carrots, peeled & sliced
1 medium onion, chopped
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1 ½ teaspoon ground cumin
2 cans (15.5 ounces each) black beans
1 ¾ cup vegetable broth
1 tablespoon lime juice
sour cream

    In a large saucepan, heat oil over medium heat. Add carrot, onion, garlic and cumin. Saute until lightly softened; about 5 to 7 minutes.

    Stir in black beans (with liquid) and the broth. Heat to boiling; reduce heat to medium-low and simmer for 10 minutes. Remove from heat and cool for 10 minutes.

    Working in batches, puree soup in blender (or use a stick blender, if you have one). Remove to the saucepan and reheat on low; stir in lime juice. Serve with a dollop of sour cream on top.

Electricity, E-lec-tri-city

2011-11-10T20:00:00.001-05:00

Between Hurricane Irene and Snowtober, 2011 has been a year to make the folks around here appreciate the local utility (that is, when we aren't cursing them because we don't have electricity). It's not a bad thing to be aware of utilities (and our dependence on them), but it strikes me that the immediate crises have allowed us to ignore the long-term troubles on our electrical horizon.

I'm referring to the national electric grid, one that was modern back in the mid-1950s but has been permitted to deteriorate since then. As our reliance on the electricity has grown greater, we've shown little national will to update the grid, let alone explore electricity that isn't generated by the burning of our shrinking supply of fossil fuels. Perhaps I'm naive, but I hope that our recent flirtation with no electricity will create greater political will for looking after our electric infrastructure.

At the very least, we should encourage Congress to allocate some national attention (and resources) to updating the grid. It would create jobs, encourage more efficient and responsible energy management, and is just the sort of thing a national government should take on.

The Short Years

2011-11-09T20:45:00.001-05:00

At my school, there is a tape measure where the faculty kids can measure their height and mark the passage of time. The other day, after more than a few people had observed that my baby is nearly taller than I am, JT and I stopped by to measure his height. At 5 foot 2 inches, he's an inch away from being my height. He can hardly wait for that moment when he tops me. As for me, I'm not so sure about what all that height means.

There are some students in this year's senior class, 17 year olds whom I have known since they were 7. These tall, capable, bright, young men are in my classroom this year, towering over me, and examples of the sort of maturity that is just around the corner in my house.

At 5 foot 2 inches last week, JT was the same height as those Senior boys were in 2006. When I realized that, I was struck by the fact that five years has just flown by for those once-little boys who are now in my classroom on the cusp of adulthood. Meanwhile, things are changing in my house far faster than I could have imagined. Poof, and my baby is a boy. And then my boy is a tween. And my tween is on his way to full-sized teenage status. When I first became a mama, a friend said to me that the nights are long but the years are fast. These days, that truth is really staring me in the face.

Fiddling While Rome Burns

2011-11-08T18:56:00.001-05:00

When JT was a baby, I learned the importance of getting sleep as soon as he was resting so that I had a fighting chance to retain my sanity. But sometimes, in the quiet of a baby asleep I would choose to do something other than sleep ----- usually to read a book. In those moments I would characterize that behavior as "fiddling while Rome burns." But the allure of a good book was sometimes too great resist. And so I fiddled.

Today, with essays to grade and letters of recommendation to complete, I took a brief walk outside and then I threw caution to the wind. So I took a lovely book outside and read, soaking in the warmth and the amazing sunlight of the lovely fall day. The work could wait just one more day, I decided. I would fiddle while Rome burned.

Dogwood Monday: Week 6

2011-11-07T20:04:00.000-05:00

Over the weekend, T helped me to rake up some of the leaves in my yard. My town hands out free leaf bags (wherein free = thousands of dollars in property taxes enable me to enjoy "free" leaf bags) and last month T and I popped over to grab some up. We took three packages because…..1. Property taxes are not a bargain around here; 2. I figured I will always have use for leaf bags; and 3. they looked like packs of 10.

Or so we thought.

Turns out they come in packs of 20.

Ahem.

We easily filled 10 bags up this weekend and the dogwood and Old Man Tree are not quite finished with their seasonal work.

Snowstorms excepted, it's been a lovely fall, complete with beautiful leaves and cool mornings followed by mellow days. I know that shorter days, cold, and snow are just around the corner. So I plan to enjoy fall's bounty while it lasts.

Ingredients for a Happy Birthday

2011-11-06T19:37:00.001-05:00

Homemade French toast breakfast.

Walk in the woods with the people I love.

New coffee pot.

With all the happiness that my last year brought me, I'm feeling like next has some pretty good prospects. I'm looking forward to it.

The Sound of Home

2011-11-03T20:10:00.002-04:00

My school has a small program for international students and there are a number of Chinese students enrolled in our classes. These students are far from home, enmeshed in a world that is utterly foreign to them. In U.S. History, this fact is abundantly clear and they work hard to make sense of such ideas as the Founding Fathers and New England…..ideas that make innate sense to native Americans but which require a bit more explanation when you are from another country. The students work hard and do succeed, but I am always aware of how often they have to pause to make sense of our corner of the world.

Today, after lunch, my U.S. History class had a quiz. It was a nice day and I opened the windows to the breeze and the fresh air. As the students took the quiz, we could hear the sounds of a string quartet playing outside. The music wasn't familiar to me, but it sounded lovely. As the students handed in their quizzes, we talked about the music we were hearing. None of the Americans recognized the tune, but all three Chinese girls did and with broad, happy smiles, they explained that the song they knew well; the story of a girl and boy in love. A universal story, really. It was the sound of home, one of the girls said, and then all three grinned as they enjoyed the comfort of a little familiar territory.

Halloween!

2011-11-01T21:43:00.000-04:00

Last weekend, we carved up some pumpkins for Halloween.

Mine is the cat on the moon in the center. JT went with the goofy-faced pumpkin on the right and T carved up the scary pumpkin on the left. For the actual Halloween, JT hit the mean streets with his buddy D, his long-time trick-or-treating buddy. JT went as Albert Pujols (a costume planned well-before his beloved Cardinals won the World Series). D always goes out as something scary and this year he unzipped his face.

He's induced some bloody Halloween wounds before but this one set the bar higher than ever before.

The injury must have been well worth it, as the 2011 candy haul may very well be the best to date.

Dogwood Monday: Week 6

2011-10-31T18:16:00.000-04:00

After a crazy weekend of snow and ice, I'm surprised that more of the dogwood's leaves are not on the deck, creating an icy mess.

A few leaves do remain on the tree, sure to wrap up their fall job in the next few days.

And here I am just getting used to the splendor of fall.

A Whole New World

2011-10-30T21:06:00.000-04:00

We awakened to beautiful sun today, though my front sidewalk was an icy mess.

The trees in my yard fared just fine, though the same cannot be said of other trees in my neighborhood, as the sycamore across the street can testify.

I'm lucky that I didn't lose electricity, though many people in New Jersey aren't so lucky. And I keep reminding myself that despite the cold, it's only just the end of October. Let's hope that tomorrow night's ghost have some polarfleece on underneath those sheets.

WTF?

2011-10-29T19:29:00.000-04:00

I'm not really sure what else to say about this, the first snowstorm of the year. It's a nor'easter in October (!) and the snow is falling at a terrific pace. It's a damp and wet snow, as the leaf and snow heavy tree branches in my neighborhood can attest.

Even the leaf-free apple and pear trees in my yard are suffering.

Old man tree is hanging in but despite the smile I sense he's not amused.

Here's hoping this isn't a sign of another heavy snow winter in my immediate future.

All Y'all

2011-10-28T08:10:00.003-04:00

The other day, fed up with the phrase "you guys" I tweeted that the next time I hear that phrase I'm going to throw a punch. I think we all know that's not much of a threat. But in a world in which young female college graduates earn an average of $47,000 a year while young male college graduates average a shade over $59,000, I'm not inclined to ignore the passive preference for men.

On the east coast, I've been assured that "you guys" is gender neutral and inclusive. I'm not buying it. For one thing, guys isn't gender neutral, no matter how much the user wishes it so. For another, there are plenty of non-gendered choices available. Instead of starting your e-mail to men and women with the phrase "hi guys" how about "hi folks"? I've a (male) colleague who always uses the phrase "friends" (a la FDR). I like both of those very much. I use y'all, and it works quite nicely. The point is that there are options and those of us who spend time in the company of young people, setting examples of how to treat people, should explore them.

In my government classes, I don't refer to Congressmen or committee chairmen. I reference members of Congress and committee chairs. I'm the mother of son whom I've raised to believe that men and women should be treated equally. He's a guy who watches women sports, who says y'all, who wouldn't dream of believing that he is better because he's a boy.

In the meantime, I will wage my quiet war against "you guys" and Internet, I'd like y'all to help me out.

On Wisdom

2011-10-27T08:10:00.002-04:00

On Monday, after enduring five years of discomfort, I finally made the jump and consented to having my last wisdom tooth removed. The first two and I had parted ways when I was 10 years old in a procedure that featured the removal of 7 other teeth (yes, for a total of 9) and left me forever reluctant to see a dentist, let alone a dental surgeon, again.

I lost wisdom tooth number 3 in 2001 when I was living in Nebraska. Other than the fact that I drove myself home after the procedure, I don't have any memories of the removal. On Monday the last tooth and I finally parted ways. It had been aching for years and I had delayed removal based on the ill-advised theory that the pain you know is worse than the pain you don't. The impetus to finally have the tooth extracted was the on-going discomfort it caused and the fact that it was a hulking behemoth of a tooth intent on destroying other teeth in the neighborhood……not a good arrangement, my dentist assured me.

Though I knew it had to go, I was terrified. No one likes dental surgery - least of all me - and in my case fear of the surgery was compounded by the fact that the procedure would require me to be down for the count, however temporary. I've an irrational fear of being temporarily disabled, a fear magnified when I became a single mama. I know that I can ask others for help, and I sometimes do, but I much prefer a world in which I am functioning.

Enter T, whose presence in my life persuaded me that being temporarily out of commission wasn't a disaster. She drove me to the surgery (ignoring my appeals that we instead go shopping at the Tractor Supply Store), carried me home afterward, and served me the soft and bland cuisine the newly wisdom-toothless are permitted to enjoy. In short, she made a difficult procedure utterly endurable, allowing me to face my fears and laugh at myself in the process.

That's a tall order. Out of the experience, I've learned a few more lessons in pursuit of the age-old wisdom that a burden shared is a burden halved. I've been reminded of the power of laughter and sympathy and why it is that two is more powerful than one. The tooth is gone. And better yet, I gained a lot in the process.

Real Life Conversations with JT: California Dreamin' edition

2011-10-26T08:10:00.000-04:00

The backstory: When we visit our California relations, JT and I avail ourselves of their fancy ice and water dispensing refrigerators. We didn't have one of our own in New Jersey, so at home we made ice cubes by hand. JT was always impressed by the automatic ice lifestyle and he longed for a share of the action, but he was convinced that such luxuries were only available in California, as was revealed when he came home from a visit to a friend's house last summer.

JT: At X's house, their fridge makes cold water and ice, like in California.

Mama: Oh yeah? That's nice.

JT: How do you think they can do that in New Jersey? Do you think they once lived in California?

Mama: They must have a fridge from California.

JT: They must. I wish that we could get a fridge from California.

Mama: Maybe someday, honey.

As it turns out, some Californians bought us a fridge for my birthday and Christmas (thanks, Mom and Dad!) and now we're making ice cubes and cold water like those fancy left coasters. Come on over for iced drinks at our house, Internet.

Real Life Conversations with T: Marketing edition

2011-10-25T09:30:00.001-04:00

The backstory: I was trying to find a corporate web site for a corn dog company who used to sell corn dogs in the midwest, and T had some thoughts on the matter.

Me: Well, it looks like they don't have much of a media presence.

T: It's corn dogs, honey, they sell themselves.

She has a point.

Dogwood Monday: Week 5

2011-10-24T08:10:00.002-04:00

Cold evenings and mornings seem to have arrived to stay; I've even broken down and turned on the furnace. Pesky is busy getting ready for winter and enjoying the fall weather. The dogwood tree's leaves have turned completely as of this week, though many remain on the branches.

If memory serves, the rest of these leaves will fall down by the end of the next week.

In the meantime, I'm loving the morning light and the idea of Old Man tree getting ready to face the winter.

Corndog Saturday

2011-10-23T09:49:00.000-04:00

Last year, I made an effort at frying up some corn dogs and it ended in dismal failure, with corn batter everywhere (though not on the hot dogs). Determined to succeed in this mission, I never gave up hope.

What you need, it turns out, is a good recipe and a girlfriend who once worked in the competitive world of corn dog cuisine.

Last night, we got out the fryer and went to work. I used Pioneer Woman's recipe.

But the technique was all T and Internet, this woman knows her way around a fryer. She lined up the items for dipping into corn dog batter: hot dogs, little smokies, and cheese sticks.

And fry them she did.

Once you've got the fryer out, you might as well get some waffle fries going.

Waffle fries taste better with cheese sauce.

Suffice it to say that we met our saturated fat dietary requirements last night. It's a food group in itself, there at the top of the government's food pyramid.

Adult Nirvana

2011-10-20T19:25:00.000-04:00

Longtime readers will recall that this blog regularly features postings about my flooded basement. There was this time. And this. And let's not forget this time. Or perhaps you prefer to read about when it all started?

You get the picture.

After the floods of Hurricane Irene and the follow-up fill of the basement courtesy of Tropical Storm Lee, I began to fantasize about a permanent solution. The amazing JP, plumber extraordinaire, got to work and now I have a sump pump. It's quite impressive looking.

And it spells the end of my illustrious career in basement water removal.

Dogwood Monday: Week 4

2011-10-17T20:00:00.001-04:00

Fall has truly taken hold around here, with days in the 60s and nights in the 40s. It's perfect weather for soup suppers, sleeping with the windows open and morning cups of coffee with a cozy sweater and the company of the dogwood tree in my backyard, which embraced fall this week.

Fall Perfection

2011-10-16T20:29:00.000-04:00

We had amazing autumn weather today. To make it perfect, we made grilled haloumi and apples to eat with our afternoon cocktails.

And baked potato soup for supper.

Lovely.

Generationally Speaking

2011-10-15T07:36:00.000-04:00

My parents are in town for the week. The trip has been planned for a while and as summer transitioned into fall, JT was excited at the prospect of watching playoff baseball with his grandfather. It was unexpected that the playoff baseball would feature the St. Louis Cardinals, the team JT's grandfather taught him to love. And love is an understatement.

As of this writing, the Cardinals lead the National League playoff series 3-2. The last three games were in St. Louis and JT and his grandfather have watched them all. Last night, I was too exhausted to stay up and watch the last few innings. So I went upstairs and fell asleep to the sounds of baseball and my son and his grandfather talking about the game and the team that they love.

It doesn't get much better than that.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Manly edition

2011-10-14T06:21:00.000-04:00

The backstory: We watch a lot of sports at this house, which means that JT has a steady diet of beer and Viagra adverts in his life. He finds both perplexing and I've noticed that these ads lead him to have a certain world view, as was the case Monday morning when he spotted a man on a motorcycle driving the mean streets of New Jersey.

"That guy uses Viagra," JT informed me.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"I watch TV Mama. I know that guys who ride motorcycles need Viagra."

Note to Erectile Dysfunction drug manufacturers: I think this phenomena is known as an unintended side effect.

Chicken Hooker

2011-10-11T20:40:00.001-04:00

Known to the world as Henrietta Chicken, this dog toy is the fave of some dogs of my acquaintance.

T and I dubbed her the Chicken Hooker because……..well, it's obvious, isn't it?

Though she's been known to stay in Florida, she's no stranger to the street corners of greater northern New Jersey.

Henrietta is the frequent companion of Bibi and Sam, though Sam ardently believes he has the market cornered on her affections.

Last Saturday, Henrietta had herself a busy day.

At one point, T tried to offer Hen safe haven, but the Chicken Hooker loves her work.

She opted for a Saturday afternoon lay-about on the hammock.

If I know the Chicken Hooker, she won't be at rest for long.

Dogwood Monday: Week 3

2011-10-10T19:19:00.001-04:00

I had one of those Mondays that confirms every stereotype of the first day of the week. I woke up late, surfacing to consciousness, glad to discover that the dream in which I had lost my driver's license and debit card was in fact not reality. That was the good news. The bad news was that the dark fall morning induced me to sleep an extra 45 minutes that I did not have penciled in to the schedule.

My coffee pot is slowly dying, so it rose to the occasion with the sort of half-assed attitude that I could tolerate on a Friday but that made Monday morning that much more unsettling. I missed virtually every light on the way to school and then taught three periods in a row before I came up for air. The afternoon featured papers to grade, one more class to teach, and then a trip to the grocery store.

But when I got home, the dogwood greeted me with a reminder of the cool quiet mornings that will surely be in my future.

I'll take it.

Indian Summer

2011-10-09T20:54:00.000-04:00

I spent the weekend in the woods with T and we enjoyed the warmth of two lovely Indian Summer days. I made some amusing pictures that I will be posting later this week. In the meantime, this picture makes me smile.

That's happy. What else?

Real Life Conversations with JT: Baseball Allegiance edition

2011-10-08T10:00:00.001-04:00

The backstory: We are baseball fans in the Sassafras family and, among other things, that means that JT has a genetic obligation to disdain the big-money Yankees. Some days that easier than other days, as it was on Friday morning, the day after the Yankees were eliminated from playoff contention by the Detroit Tigers. JT and I were reviewing the game when the following conversation occurred.

Mama: A-Rod didn't get a hit when the bases were loaded. That's what 32 million a year can buy you.

JT: Heck, Mama, I'd could have struck out for them just for 32 bucks a year.

His grandfather is so proud.

'Puter

2011-10-07T06:56:00.000-04:00

I got my first Apple Macintosh computer in 1986, when I was in college and Apple made it easy for college students to buy a personal computer. The typewriter I received as a graduation gift couldn't compete. That year, my journal went digital and I began to write all my papers and assignments on the computer. A few years after that, a roommate of mine dubbed the computer the 'puter and I call it that to this day.

A few years later, when I was in grad school, I traded up for a new Mac. That Mac came with me to my first teaching job and saw me through more writing than I could have ever dreamed possible. Research, lectures, essays and lessons all came forth from that little box. It still felt like magic.

Just before JT was born, a third Apple came my way, this one an orange iMac. In 2002, I switched to the MacBook and became a laptop disciple; it's what we use at my school. I'm on my third MacBook and cannot imagine life without this little machine. I jokingly call it my brain, but it's no joke. My music, my photos, much of my reading and most of my ideas are on this laptop.

Last night, as I sat with my MacBook on my lap, working on a lesson for classes next week, JT had his iPad in hand, studying for a Science test and a History quiz. Thanks to that iPad, he can carry books and school notes wherever he goes. He makes digital and audio clips with ease, sometimes studying Spanish by hearing his own voice speaking back to him. It's a marvel.

Thanks, Mr. Jobs.

Apple Envy

2011-10-05T20:41:00.000-04:00

The possum ate the apples off of my trees, so I had to comfort myself with some apples from a local orchard. JT was impressed by the disparity between the largest and smallest of the apples.

As for me, I was just glad of an abundance of apples.

I've already made a batch of fried apples, T took some to dry, and I've got plans for applesauce and apple pie. I do so enjoy the taste of fall.

Corn-tastic

2011-10-04T21:54:00.000-04:00

Last Friday, I persuaded T and JT to join me in a local corn maze. I enjoy myself a little corn maze confusion and this was no exception. JT and T were patient - sometimes amused, I daresay - and even when we got lost, I enjoyed myself. At one point, as we tramped through yet another familiar row of corn, T announced that she didn't want corn for supper. And then we were off and running, reciting every possible corn dish we could think of: corn muffins, corn pudding, corn on the cob, corn dogs, corn relish, corn bean mash, popcorn…..we covered all of our corn bases. Then we spent the rest of the weekend making jokes about hominy.

Years ago, I read JT a book about a bunny named Willa. When something made Willa happy, she'd say "that's happy, what else?" Willa seemed to believe that happiness could be available in abundance. I feel a lot like Willa these days. It's so very nice to find myself in a place of easy companionship and easy laughter; of shared jokes and future filled with more of the same. That's happy, I keep thinking to myself. What else?

Dogwood Monday

2011-10-03T17:35:00.000-04:00

It's week two for the weekly dogwood pictures and a little more fall color can be seen on my tree. We had a cool fall weekend around here; the sort that puts me in a mind to make chili and grab an extra blanket for the bed.

I'm hopeful that we will enjoy some cool, sunny, fall days this month. My folks are coming to visit next week and if the trees in my backyard are any indication, it looks as if they will enjoy plenty of lovely fall leaves.

Real Life Conversations with T: Condemnation edition

2011-10-01T09:03:00.003-04:00

The backstory: I have a neighbor who sets off his car alarm nearly every Saturday morning. And it's not a quiet alarm. No, it's a honking, blaring, 8:10 am call to arms. And the car's owner seems stunned when it happens, so we hear the alarm run through the cycle a couple of times before the offender finally manages to turn off the noise. We heard it this morning.

Car: Honk, honk, honk.

T: Damnit, that alarm goes off every Saturday. If that guy can't handle the technology, he can't have a car. He goes back to a horse and buggy.

And then we're laughing while the horn is still screeching. And I'm reminded why this girl won my heart.

Unsolicited Advice

2011-09-30T19:29:00.002-04:00

In the past few weeks, I've had some very sudden reminders of the fragility of life. Everyone in my family is fine, so no worries on that front, but in the larger community of my school some folks I know are hurting because of the loss of loved ones.

That these events have happened at a time when I couldn't be happier is not lost on me. These reminders that we must love and cherish one another while we can seems worthy of note. And really, that's all I've got to say. Get off the computer and go tell your family that you love them. Do it now, while you can. You'll be glad that you said it.

Genetic Condition

2011-09-29T09:11:00.000-04:00

In the past three years, JT has become a veritable encyclopedia of baseball facts. He watches ESPN's Baseball Tonight and reads baseball news with a hunger tinged by obsession. He's told me more than once that his dream job is to be a team General Manager some day.

He's got a complicated system of fan loyalties that reads like a genetic inheritance. His favorite team is the Cardinals, because that's Grandpa's team. He likes the Giants and the A's because those are also his Grandpa's teams, and we're a Nor Cal family. He hates the Dodgers (see above: Nor Cal family). Locally, he prefers the Phillies, and sniffs with disdain at the big money Yanks and Red Sox (thanks, Grandpa).

Last night's games, which likely shortened the lives of baseball fans all over America, found my boy simply thrilled. The Cards clinched the National League Wildcard spot after the Phillies beat the Braves in the 13th inning. The Red Sox were eliminated in a heart break of a game for Sox fans. As ESPN showed film of the Cards celebrating their Wildcard win, JT called Grandpa for a final consult. Their Cardinals start the playoffs with the Phillies on Saturday but they re-assured themselves that there's no cause for concern here ---- the Cards beat the Phillies six times in nine meet-ups this season. As JT settled into his bed (the one with National League-themed sheets) my tired, happy boy smiled up at me and announced, "I love baseball."

Indeed.

Outsourcing

2011-09-28T05:55:00.000-04:00

I've been of a mind to write up a post about the GOP field of presidential contenders and what seems to be the split personality tone of GOP supporters. Then Kevin Drum summed it all up quite nicely. Read this and then you don't have to put up with my nonsense.

Ironic

2011-09-27T05:55:00.000-04:00

JT refuses to drink milk. Though Baby JT once loved a glass of "nuk" he's been on the wagon for years. He won't even try it, which drives me stone cold crazy. When I get the most frustrated with his unwillingness to even try milk, I entertain myself by serving his supper glass of ice water in one of a handful of replica label milk glasses that live in my cabinet.

Hah.

Dogwood Monday

2011-09-26T06:55:00.000-04:00

Though the thick humidity and warm days don't quite reflect it, fall has arrived in my corner of the world. It shows in the trees and leaves around the Garden State, which have started the process of turning the colors of autumn. The days are getting shorter and Pesky the backyard squirrel is busy getting things together for winter. The dogwood has begun to turn.

As I did last year, I plan to make a picture of the changing tree each week.

Happy Fall, y'all!

Real Life Conversations with JT: Hierarchy edition

2011-09-24T08:10:00.003-04:00

The backstory: When he feeds the cats their daily allotment of kibble, JT hauls the kibble bucket over and announces that "King JT is here to feed you." Tiger and Lucy come running, of course. Who doesn't love a full kibble bowl?

Mama: If you are feeding them, are you really the King?

JT: I hadn't thought of that.

Mama: Maybe Tiger and Lucy are the royalty. You feed them; I clean their litter box.

JT: We're their servants, aren't we?

Mama: Indeed we are.

At least we know where we stand.

Home Improvement Weekend

2011-09-23T05:55:00.001-04:00

The charming T, who seems to be a glutton for Sassafras-style nonsense, was a home improvement machine last weekend. She installed a new front porch light fixture.

The old one was well beyond repair, not to mention modern electrical safety standards.

The new fixture features clean glass, less bugs, and both light sockets work! Fancy. Also: not a fire hazard. Ahem.

She replaced some window screens torn by certain feline attackers.

Let the record reflect that I wasn't completely useless. Home improvement efforts always earns a Sunday supper.

And a tasty one, at that. We plan to take it easy this weekend. T has earned a rest.

And Justice for All?

2011-09-22T08:21:00.000-04:00

I've been a long-standing opponent of the death penalty and for most of my life that's been an uphill battle. Though American support for the death penalty has declined in the last ten years, something like 70% of the American public still supports its use. We're a nation who likes our executions.

By happenstance, application of the death penalty has been in the news for the last few weeks, just as I've begun teaching American Government to a new crop of Seniors. I don't seek to convert students to my point of view - that would be unethical - but I do introduce them to politics from a political scientist's point of view. Right now, we are studying the Constitution. The death penalty is a question of constitutionality on a number of fronts. The Constitution prevents cruel and unusual punishment. The Supreme Court has found that execution is neither cruel nor unusual. The Constitution also requires due process and justice under the law. In my mind, those were the fundamental issues on the table in the state of Georgia's bid to execute Troy Davis.

Twenty-two years ago, Troy Davis was accused of the shooting off an off-duty police officer, Mark MacPhail. The crime happened in Savannah, Georgia, and there's no question that Davis was in the parking lot where MacPhail's murder occurred. The police never recovered the gun; there was never any physical evidence connecting Davis to the crime. In the original police investigation a number of eyewitnesses identified Davis as the shooter. A jury found Davis guilty of the crime and the judge sentenced him to death. In subsequent years, nearly all of the eyewitnesses recanted their testimony against Davis, telling the courts that police investigators at the time had pressured them to identify Davis as the shooter. Davis steadfastly maintained his innocence at trial and while in prison. The police never found any physical evidence to connect Davis to the crime.

For years, I've followed Troy Davis's case. He'd dodged execution dates before, though rarely with any hope that another execution date would be avoided. Yesterday, as another execution hour loomed, Davis's supporters and lawyers tried in vain to stop his execution. My students and I listened to a news story about the situation and we talked about the issues of justice and Constitutionality at play. When they left class yesterday, I encouraged them to pay attention to events in Georgia. My classes have both death penalty supporters and opponents. Both were sobered by the case.

I don't know if Troy Davis was guilty in the shooting of Mark MacPhail. I know that there was no physical evidence to connect him to the crime. I know that eyewitness testimony is notoriously suspect. I know that our criminal justice system makes mistakes and that people serve time for crimes they didn't commit. I know that the police are not always trust-worthy, especially when the rights of poor black men are at stake. And I know that the state should not be executing people - taking their lives - unless we are damned sure that they are guilty.

I know that Davis's execution won't be the last injustice in this nation. I know that The Innocence Project and others are hard at work trying to correct those injustices. I know that change can only happen when citizens like me stand up for the principles they believe in. I know my nation is imperfect, but I believe in the promises of the Constitution. I believe in the power of liberty and justice for all. I will teach my students that this is true. But they will also know about injustice; about Troy Davis and the state of Georgia. In my darker moments, I wonder which message will resound most loudly.

Real Life Conversations at School: Reality Check edition

2011-09-20T06:36:00.002-04:00

The backstory: I teach high school and there is almost no moment in high school as important as that day when a 17 year old secures a driver's license. Its power is validated when the newly minted driver has access to a car. Such realities were revealed when I overheard this conversation in the hall.

Student Y: Whose white mini van is parked in the student parking lot?

Student X: I don't know. Why?

Student Y: Because mini vans are pathetic. They are loser-mobiles.

Student X: Wait….do you have a car?

Student Y: (pause) No.

Student X: Who's the loser now?

Touche, Student X. Touche.

In high school, I spent some time behind the wheel of a white El Camino known as the Elk. So I'm not judging. I just report the facts.

Correction

2011-09-19T06:40:00.000-04:00

I headed out into the garden this weekend, to pick some of the rosemary I grew. I used it to season some yeast rolls.

Turns out the Possum did leave me something (other than rosemary…..he's not a fan of herbs): I found one Roma tomato.

Thanks for sharing your garden bounty, Possum.

P.S.: You're still doomed.

Garden Confessional

2011-09-14T19:28:00.002-04:00

In early August, I took a stroll out to my garden, intent on showing off my tomatoes to T. I realize this sounds like some sort of euphemism, but it's not. I had some green tomatoes that were mere days from ripeness and I really wanted to admire them on the vines.

They were gone.

Every single tomato was just gone, as if I had imagined them in the first place. We walked around the garden patch and quickly discovered tracks. From the look of the tracks, there was an incredibly well-fed possum enjoying my produce. It's not an exaggeration to say that I was crushed.

My garden is within a fenced-in yard and though I've had a squirrel and bunnies in the yard, I'd never had deer or any of the other wildlife that regularly threaten New Jersey gardens. So the possum wasn't just unwelcome, he was surprising.

Catching the elusive possum proved beyond my abilities and so he had his run of my produce. I've had plenty of basil, oregano, and rosemary, but other than that my garden has been a bust. There was a chance for some late peppers and squash and a few zinnias but those were utterly destroyed by Hurricane Irene and the backyard floods which followed.

For the first time in more than 15 years, I didn't slice into a warm summer tomato grown by my hand. There were no zinnia bouquets for my home. I haven't been trying to persuade friends to relieve me of excess squash.

I miss the abundance of it all. I've always said that gardens are a lesson in patience and this year my patience has been sorely tested. But I'll plant again next spring. And if the possum is reading, I'd strongly advise that he consider relocation. Because I've got it in for him.

Big time.