9.28.2012
When it gets personal
I’ve been wanting to have a conversation with Kent about
gay marriage for a long time now, ever since I found out last year about
Chick-Fil-A’s “charitable” contributions to Focus on the Family. We had been regular attendees with friends at
Chick-Fil-A’s family night, scoring a free kid’s meal and fun activities and
generally enjoying the kind employees and kid-friendly atmosphere. I thought Chick-Fil-A was fantastic. And then I found out almost a year ago that
whenever I bought a salad or a milkshake or a fruit cup for my kids, some of my
money was going to organizations that directly oppose one of my most fervent
beliefs, that of the right of two adults in a loving relationship to marry each
other, even if they happen to be of the same gender. This was long before Chick-Fil-A’s owner had
made public statements about his beliefs, spurring a nationwide debate—I was
having my own private boycott long before that.
When the flames leapt up this summer and suddenly *everyone* was talking
about Chick-Fil-A, I felt more than a little vindicated.
My dad was gay, so this is very personal for me. He and a lot of other people I knew boycotted
Cracker Barrel when it became known that the restaurant chain fired any
employee it found to be gay. (Cracker
Barrel reversed its policy several years later and now explicitly forbids
discrimination against gays and lesbians in its restaurants.) He also told me about visiting San Francisco
and not being able to order Coors in any bar because of the company’s anti-gay
policies and contributions. And while I
agree that a company has a right to contribute money to whichever organizations
they want to support, and even that the COO of a company has the right to say
crazy things, I also have the right not to give them any of my money to use in support of their beliefs.
About a month into my boycott, I found myself hungry,
driving past Chick-Fil-A, and I turned into the parking lot thinking, “Well,
maybe I can just get a sandwich anyway.”
But then I thought about my dad.
And I realized that I couldn’t stomach the idea of even one penny of my
money funding a hate group that saw my dad as less deserving of rights because
he wasn’t heterosexual. It was pretty
easy to turn back around and keep driving at that point.
Kent loved Chick-Fil-A, too, and he definitely noticed
that we weren’t going there anymore. But
he was four, and I had no idea how to explain it to him. The issue is just so big, and simultaneously so
personal, that I was afraid I was just going to start spewing vitriol about the
whole corporation if I got started, and I didn’t want it to be like that. So I skirted the issue each time he asked if
we could go there. I’m not so proud of
that. But I was kind of stuck mentally, turning it over in my head and trying to figure out what level he'd be capable of understanding.
The conversation finally began yesterday. I was talking to a friend about how her son Emerson has decided with Kent that they want to live together when they’re older. Emerson and Kent don’t want to get married necessarily,
just live together and possibly marry other people. (I told my friend that this was a relief to
me, since Kent had previously told us he wants to live with us forever and have
Dean move out. She said jokingly that
maybe Emerson was just planning to move in with *us*. Uh. We’ll hammer out the details later.)
In the same conversation, she mentioned that when
marrying someone of the same gender has come up with her kids, she’s explained
that some states just have “bad rules”, so they’d have to go to a different
state if they want to marry someone of their own gender. Bad rules.
Yes. Brilliant. I had my inspiration.
In the car on the way home from school, I begin. First I talk to him about how most men want
to marry women, but some men want to marry men because that’s who they
love. This makes sense to him (because
seriously, why shouldn’t it just MAKE SENSE??).
I say the same is true for women.
Then I say that unfortunately, not everybody believes that men ought to
be able to marry other men, even if that’s who they love, because they think
that if *most* people are a certain way, they think everyone ought to be that
way. I mention that in Virginia, men can’t
marry other men, but I use the word “yet” and convey to him that I think it’ll
eventually be okay in every state. He
asks about Louisiana, and I say no, it’s not okay in Louisiana either. Yet. Kent
seems to think it’s wildly unfair that men can’t marry men if they want to, if
that’s who they love, and I tell him that of course I agree with him. I tell him I think that by the time he’s a
grown-up, it’ll probably be okay everywhere, but it takes a long time for
people to change their minds. Then I
tell him I would be so sad if I was told that I couldn’t marry the person I
love, and then I ask him what if he had to feel that way, or Dean, or one of
their friends or their cousins? He’s
still worked up about it and can’t understand why anyone would want to prevent
marriage between two people who love each other and want to spend their lives
together.
Yes. Exactly.
We’ve been having another interesting issue in our house
lately surrounding the presidential campaign; namely, Kent supports Mitt
Romney. It literally started with me
talking about how I want President Obama to win the election, him asking,
“Who’s the other guy?”, me answering, “Mitt Romney,” and him saying, “Oh, I
like him better.” I have no doubts that
he supports Romney in an attempt to distance himself ideologically from us,
which is okay, but it makes for interesting conversations. Like what kind of yard signs we’re putting
up. And when I got my Obama sticker in
the mail, he asked when he could get a Romney sticker. Hmm. I
don’t want to quash his interest in politics by totally dismissing his
perspective, but I do feel a bit like an old codger, rolling my eyes and
saying, “You know, these kids today are just totally uninformed when it comes
to politics…”
Anyway, back to our conversation about gay marriage: sensing
an opportunity that I don’t want to let pass, I then mention that one of the
reasons I like President Obama so much is that he believes men ought to be able
to marry men if that’s who they love.
Kent asks, “What about Mitt Romney?”
I tell him Romney doesn’t believe men should be able to do that. Kent asks why. I reiterate how some people think everyone
should be the same, even if that’s not the way they feel or who they are
inside. Kent thinks for a minute, then
says, “Then I agree with Obama.”
MAJOR VICTORY AND DEVELOPMENTAL MILESTONE ALL IN ONE!
I tell him it’s okay to like a candidate and not agree
with everything he says, so it’s okay if he still likes Mitt Romney, but I’ll
be interested to see where this leads, whether we’ll have more substantive
conversations about policy and politics in the coming weeks. That would be very exciting.
I also mention that there are different kinds of love,
love you have for your friends, and love you feel for a person you want to
marry, and that he might not feel the second kind until he’s a lot older. But I’m pretty sure he didn’t understand that
part at all. Because at the end of the
conversation, he exclaimed, “I’d better hurry up and marry Emerson while Obama
is still the president!”
We haven’t talked about Chick-Fil-A yet. He hardly ever asks anymore anyway, but I
figure if Chick-Fil-A comes up, he’ll already have a framework for understanding
why I won’t eat there anymore. And hey,
maybe Chick-Fil-A will make some progress, not just the hemming and hawing they’re
doing right now, and we might actually eat there again. I did like their salads. I would happily reward them for changing
their minds, because, as is becoming increasingly clear in our national conversation,
it *is* possible to be Christian and pro-gay marriage. I shied away from calling myself a Christian
in high school and college, because I felt like the Religious Right had a
stranglehold on Jesus and there wasn’t any room for me.
Thank God, literally, that that isn’t the case.
Labels: being political, church, Kent, my dad, observations, tying the knot
- posted by erica 9/28/2012 05:46:00 PM
- 7 comments
5.27.2009
Missing connections
Kent was up for about five minutes this morning when he started proclaiming, "K love Grandma Grandpa." Throughout the day, as I talked to him about the people he loves and who love him, he said, "K love GranDebbie Bapa," "K love Patti Celia," and there was some iteration of proclaiming his affection for us, his parents. He also elaborated by telling me, "Patti Celia have feet," and "Mommy has feet." This is definitely a kid who processes and labels things out loud, I tell ya. Out LOUD.
I hadn't thought before today about the fact that "and" isn't in his vocabulary yet. Kind of interesting. He just smashes nouns together like he's a German speaker or something.
We say a blessing at dinner every night, and at other meals if we're all sitting together, and it's usually just a quick thanks for the people who love us, the food on the table, the other gifts God has given us, etc. Kent usually pipes up with "zoo," apparently wanting God to know that he's thankful for the zoo. We haven't been to a zoo in months, but we're going to the Audubon Zoo in NOLA tomorrow with some of our friends — despite the heat, I'm really looking forward to it. They have an endangered species carousel like the one at the NC Zoo, a petting zoo, a big Louisiana swamp habitat, and the other usual zoo necessaries like flamingos, elephants, giraffes, lions, and the like. My camera battery is charged, the snacks and diaper bag are packed, and all that's left is getting some sleep before we hit the road.
Oh, and I'm making waffles in the morning. Foolhardy for more than one reason. I got in a mood today and pulled the waffle iron out for the first time since the Sticking Waffles Debaucle of Aught Four, read about seasoning on the internet, and did just what the nice website told me to do. Please, oh please, let this work. My shame in myself as a cook and my failings as the daughter of someone who once made great waffles will be soooo much worse if Kent knows he's supposed to get waffles for breakfast and then can't eat them because they're terrible and are stuck to the iron.
Sometimes I put a lot of pressure on myself.
Hey wait, this started out as a post about Kent's language development. <waving hands around in a magical way so you don't remember that fact>
I hadn't thought before today about the fact that "and" isn't in his vocabulary yet. Kind of interesting. He just smashes nouns together like he's a German speaker or something.
We say a blessing at dinner every night, and at other meals if we're all sitting together, and it's usually just a quick thanks for the people who love us, the food on the table, the other gifts God has given us, etc. Kent usually pipes up with "zoo," apparently wanting God to know that he's thankful for the zoo. We haven't been to a zoo in months, but we're going to the Audubon Zoo in NOLA tomorrow with some of our friends — despite the heat, I'm really looking forward to it. They have an endangered species carousel like the one at the NC Zoo, a petting zoo, a big Louisiana swamp habitat, and the other usual zoo necessaries like flamingos, elephants, giraffes, lions, and the like. My camera battery is charged, the snacks and diaper bag are packed, and all that's left is getting some sleep before we hit the road.
Oh, and I'm making waffles in the morning. Foolhardy for more than one reason. I got in a mood today and pulled the waffle iron out for the first time since the Sticking Waffles Debaucle of Aught Four, read about seasoning on the internet, and did just what the nice website told me to do. Please, oh please, let this work. My shame in myself as a cook and my failings as the daughter of someone who once made great waffles will be soooo much worse if Kent knows he's supposed to get waffles for breakfast and then can't eat them because they're terrible and are stuck to the iron.
Sometimes I put a lot of pressure on myself.
Hey wait, this started out as a post about Kent's language development. <waving hands around in a magical way so you don't remember that fact>
Labels: Kent, kitchen adventures, language, my dad
- posted by erica 5/27/2009 10:27:00 PM
- 3 comments
2.04.2009
On the introduction of a friend
The teaser I left you with the other day had something to do with Kent, his stuffed tiger-kitty Mike, and matching outfits, did it not? He has this tiger-striped kitty, given to him by Nikki and John for his birthday, whom we named Mike in honor of LSU's mascot. He's kept Mike at a safe distance for a while now, never wanting to get too close for too long, but yesterday, that went out the window. I decided that it might behoove us to have a third party involved in our conversations and daily routines — why not Mike? Yesterday, Mike helped Kent decide which diaper to pick out of his basket to wear next, he sampled some of Kent's food for him, he played with Kent's play food and play kitchen (loves wooden oranges and fish, hates wooden bread, burps ridiculously after drinking wooden milk), he sat on the potty before Kent did, he was consulted at various points of the day about his opinion on matters of state, etc. I really got into it. And having Mike to show things to and do things for seemed to give Kent a greater sense of control, something he badly needs in this, um, "sensitive" phase of his development. He usually seems like he could go off at any moment. I'll just say that Mike has been a comfort to both of us.
All this buddying-up yesterday culminated in Kent's silly mom deciding that maybe Kent and Mike ought to wear matching diapers before bathtime. Kent pulled out his zoo-print Fuzzi Bunz (thanks, Joanna!), so he got to wear one, and Jack managed to get the other one on Mike. It was so inappropriately sized for this little stuffed kitty that Mike looked a bit like he was sprouting out of the top of it, actually. Here's a video of them playing, with Kent proudly proclaiming "zoo!" when I ask him what kind of diaper they're both wearing. (FYI, "zoo" basically functions as a color in his mind, since his other diapers are all solids.)
And here's how Jack chose to commemorate Mike's role in all of this:
When we named this kitty over the summer, I wasn't thinking at all about the fact that my dad was also named Mike/Michael, but the coincidence certainly isn't lost on me now. It's nice that Kent's new little friend has the same name as the grandfather he never got to meet.
All this buddying-up yesterday culminated in Kent's silly mom deciding that maybe Kent and Mike ought to wear matching diapers before bathtime. Kent pulled out his zoo-print Fuzzi Bunz (thanks, Joanna!), so he got to wear one, and Jack managed to get the other one on Mike. It was so inappropriately sized for this little stuffed kitty that Mike looked a bit like he was sprouting out of the top of it, actually. Here's a video of them playing, with Kent proudly proclaiming "zoo!" when I ask him what kind of diaper they're both wearing. (FYI, "zoo" basically functions as a color in his mind, since his other diapers are all solids.)
And here's how Jack chose to commemorate Mike's role in all of this:
When we named this kitty over the summer, I wasn't thinking at all about the fact that my dad was also named Mike/Michael, but the coincidence certainly isn't lost on me now. It's nice that Kent's new little friend has the same name as the grandfather he never got to meet.
Labels: felines, Kent, my dad, photography
- posted by erica 2/04/2009 09:15:00 PM
- 2 comments
6.16.2008
Thankful for dads
Our Father's Day celebration yesterday included snacks and coffee candies for Jack to take to work, homemade gift certificates for things like back massages and picnic lunches, and lots of extra hugs and kisses from Kent. Also, Kent mumbled something that had many of the same vowels and consonants as "I love you, Dada," on the way to church, so I'm counting that as a gift.
There have been many games of Airplane around here in the past few months, a game that Kent has come to love with increasing laughter each time. Flying through the air seems to be a favorite activity. R. Kent, Test Pilot. Or perhaps R. Kent, Trapeze Artist.
I also made some very successful meals for Father's Day: breakfast was coffee and leftover sticky buns from Saturday (because I couldn't hold out until Sunday to make them... sigh), lunch was grilled quesadillas, and dinner was Indian veggie burgers, pasta salad with feta, and broccoli. I made up the recipe for the veggie burgers, basically doing what I would do to make meatballs, but substituting black beans, carrots, and corn for the meat, and shaping the mixture into patties instead of meatballs. I typed out what I did, in case they were really good, and luckily for us, they were. So here's the recipe, which I made with Indian spices but which could also be tweaked with some Mexican flare (pepperjack cheese, cumin, and chili powder?) or Asian spices (teriyaki, five spice, and/or hoisin?).
Indian Veggie Burgers
olive oil
half of a small red onion, diced
1 garlic clove, diced
1 carrot, sliced into quarters and diced
salt and pepper
2 tsp garam masala
1 tsp curry powder
1 tsp coriander seeds
1 tsp turmeric
½ tsp cayenne pepper
1 can black beans, drained
½ cup frozen corn, thawed
chopped parsley to taste
2 slices old bread, crumbled into bread crumbs
2 eggs
Heat a little olive oil in a small sauté pan. Add onion, garlic, carrot, salt and pepper, and cook over medium-high heat until onions begin to soften, about 5 minutes. Add garam masala, curry powder, coriander, and cayenne pepper, stir to coat vegetables, and continue to cook until carrots are no longer firm. Place black beans, corn, parsley, and breadcrumbs in a small mixing bowl, then add cooked vegetables and stir. Taste, adjust salt as needed, then add eggs and mix with hands until well combined. Refrigerate, then shape into patties and fry in a little oil over medium-high heat until crispy on both sides.
I just put ours on buns with some chipotle mayonnaise, since I couldn't really think of anything else to dress them with on short notice, and they were fantastic. The Indian flavors aren't strong, but they're definitely present. Test them out and let me know what you think.
***
It's nice to have someone to celebrate Father's Day with after a few years of dry spell. I used to buy my dad a cherry pie (in the days before I could bake) and some vanilla ice cream, his favorite dessert, to share with him on the Father's Days we spent together. I had an overwhelming urge for pie yesterday.
There have been many games of Airplane around here in the past few months, a game that Kent has come to love with increasing laughter each time. Flying through the air seems to be a favorite activity. R. Kent, Test Pilot. Or perhaps R. Kent, Trapeze Artist.
I also made some very successful meals for Father's Day: breakfast was coffee and leftover sticky buns from Saturday (because I couldn't hold out until Sunday to make them... sigh), lunch was grilled quesadillas, and dinner was Indian veggie burgers, pasta salad with feta, and broccoli. I made up the recipe for the veggie burgers, basically doing what I would do to make meatballs, but substituting black beans, carrots, and corn for the meat, and shaping the mixture into patties instead of meatballs. I typed out what I did, in case they were really good, and luckily for us, they were. So here's the recipe, which I made with Indian spices but which could also be tweaked with some Mexican flare (pepperjack cheese, cumin, and chili powder?) or Asian spices (teriyaki, five spice, and/or hoisin?).
Indian Veggie Burgers
olive oil
half of a small red onion, diced
1 garlic clove, diced
1 carrot, sliced into quarters and diced
salt and pepper
2 tsp garam masala
1 tsp curry powder
1 tsp coriander seeds
1 tsp turmeric
½ tsp cayenne pepper
1 can black beans, drained
½ cup frozen corn, thawed
chopped parsley to taste
2 slices old bread, crumbled into bread crumbs
2 eggs
Heat a little olive oil in a small sauté pan. Add onion, garlic, carrot, salt and pepper, and cook over medium-high heat until onions begin to soften, about 5 minutes. Add garam masala, curry powder, coriander, and cayenne pepper, stir to coat vegetables, and continue to cook until carrots are no longer firm. Place black beans, corn, parsley, and breadcrumbs in a small mixing bowl, then add cooked vegetables and stir. Taste, adjust salt as needed, then add eggs and mix with hands until well combined. Refrigerate, then shape into patties and fry in a little oil over medium-high heat until crispy on both sides.
I just put ours on buns with some chipotle mayonnaise, since I couldn't really think of anything else to dress them with on short notice, and they were fantastic. The Indian flavors aren't strong, but they're definitely present. Test them out and let me know what you think.
***
It's nice to have someone to celebrate Father's Day with after a few years of dry spell. I used to buy my dad a cherry pie (in the days before I could bake) and some vanilla ice cream, his favorite dessert, to share with him on the Father's Days we spent together. I had an overwhelming urge for pie yesterday.
Labels: holidays, husband things, kitchen adventures, my dad, photography
- posted by erica 6/16/2008 11:31:00 AM
- 3 comments
5.08.2006
Crossing
I saw a little segment on CNN just now about Steve Vaught, an overweight guy who's been walking eastward across the country since last April, and he's almost to the east coast. CNN was portraying the guy as very introspective and concerned about his weight (he was over 400 pounds at age 39 when he decided to begin the walk), and I thought he sounded interesting. I wanted to learn more, so I went to CNN's web site, but they didn't have anything that I could find, so I did some creative googling and found an excellent article from North County Times.
This writer went much more in-depth than CNN had (big surprise!), even detailing Vaught's battle with anti-depressants, his recent divorce from his wife, and his gradual realization that while the walk has been beneficial for a lot of reasons and he plans to see it through, he'd have been better off trying to lose weight under the guidance of a professional. Apparently, he's lost about 100 pounds, which is amazing, but he plateaued for a while, as most people do who try to lose weight, and he even took a month off from his walk to meet with a personal trainer in Los Angeles.
This one little paragraph, as basic as it sounds, was what really helped me to identify with this guy:
"Vaught left on his walk April 10 last year with a simple plan to lose weight by walking from coast to coast. Approaching his 40th birthday and weighing more than 400 pounds, he realized he was rolling the dice with his health and jeopardizing his future with his wife and two young children."
As you might imagine, I feel a tinge of jealousy for his kids that their dad came to this realization and has started on the path to taking back his health. My dad, though he tried several times, was never able to get much momentum on his weight-loss endeavors. Though it was a pulmonary embolism that killed him, his obesity had been complicating most aspects of his health for decades, and, naturally, "obesity" was listed on his autopsy report as one of the contributing factors to his death.
I'm not generally one for wanting to change the past and have things turn out differently, but I do wonder whether there were any circumstances under which my dad might have been able to get healthier and live longer as a result. I wonder how often he had thoughts like Vaught's about wanting to be around for my future, whether that ever spurred him onward, even if only for a little while. He didn't confide in me about his weight, and of course I didn't think as hard as I maybe should have about the possibility of losing my dad — how many kids do, really? I worried about his weight and about his smoking, but not enough to help him do much about them. I don't believe his willpower was strong enough to kick those things on his own, and maybe I couuld have helped him more, but one never knows.
Kudos to Steve Vaught for figuring out how he wanted his life to progress and attempting to do something about it. I hope that he and his wife have an amicable divorce and that he can still be a vital part of his kids' lives. They're lucky.
This writer went much more in-depth than CNN had (big surprise!), even detailing Vaught's battle with anti-depressants, his recent divorce from his wife, and his gradual realization that while the walk has been beneficial for a lot of reasons and he plans to see it through, he'd have been better off trying to lose weight under the guidance of a professional. Apparently, he's lost about 100 pounds, which is amazing, but he plateaued for a while, as most people do who try to lose weight, and he even took a month off from his walk to meet with a personal trainer in Los Angeles.
This one little paragraph, as basic as it sounds, was what really helped me to identify with this guy:
"Vaught left on his walk April 10 last year with a simple plan to lose weight by walking from coast to coast. Approaching his 40th birthday and weighing more than 400 pounds, he realized he was rolling the dice with his health and jeopardizing his future with his wife and two young children."
As you might imagine, I feel a tinge of jealousy for his kids that their dad came to this realization and has started on the path to taking back his health. My dad, though he tried several times, was never able to get much momentum on his weight-loss endeavors. Though it was a pulmonary embolism that killed him, his obesity had been complicating most aspects of his health for decades, and, naturally, "obesity" was listed on his autopsy report as one of the contributing factors to his death.
I'm not generally one for wanting to change the past and have things turn out differently, but I do wonder whether there were any circumstances under which my dad might have been able to get healthier and live longer as a result. I wonder how often he had thoughts like Vaught's about wanting to be around for my future, whether that ever spurred him onward, even if only for a little while. He didn't confide in me about his weight, and of course I didn't think as hard as I maybe should have about the possibility of losing my dad — how many kids do, really? I worried about his weight and about his smoking, but not enough to help him do much about them. I don't believe his willpower was strong enough to kick those things on his own, and maybe I couuld have helped him more, but one never knows.
Kudos to Steve Vaught for figuring out how he wanted his life to progress and attempting to do something about it. I hope that he and his wife have an amicable divorce and that he can still be a vital part of his kids' lives. They're lucky.
Labels: my dad
- posted by erica 5/08/2006 10:54:00 AM
- 2 comments
9.07.2005
What TIME is it?
Here's a tidbit of random news, not related to school or hurricanes or anything. My watch is deceased. This was my dad's watch, a fancy digital watch with all sorts of beeps and timers, which I think I could have interfaced with a calendar program on the computer if I had been able to find the computer software among all his stuff. Anyway, I've been wearing it since he died, until last Monday, when the display got kind of finicky. I replaced the battery this weekend, but the display was still weird, and when the display had been off for a while, the watch kept losing time. I haven't bought a new watch yet, but since I've still had to teach and go to class and be specific places at specific times, I've been borrowing Jack's watch in the meantime. His watch ticks. I hate ticking. I've spent the night in a room with a ticking clock more than once, and I have been known to take the batteries out of such a clock. Having a ticking watch is better than not knowing what time it is, or having to flip open my cell phone every time I want to check the time, but if I'm reading or doing other quiet work, I have to put the watch face-down on my leg to muffle the noise. Hopefully, I'll get a new watch soon, but I can't decide if I want to get another cool digital watch (because I really liked all the features) or if I should go back to having a girly watch. Dilemma.
This post falls under the category of random things that occur to me throughout the day that always make me think, "Hey, I should blog about that," but then I hardly ever do.
This post falls under the category of random things that occur to me throughout the day that always make me think, "Hey, I should blog about that," but then I hardly ever do.
- posted by erica 9/07/2005 03:04:00 PM
- 2 comments
10.30.2004
Happy accident
I did a load of towels today, and I threw in our two bathmats for good measure since it had been a while since I'd washed either of them. I washed the load in hot water, because I've washed all of those things many times and didn't think the colors would run. Even though the blue towels kept their colors, the green bathmat bled a little of its greenness (viriditas, perhaps) onto the ecru bathmat. The new color is subtle and consistent throughout, however, so now the ecru bathmat is a lovely shade of peridot. I love it! It still goes with all the things in the bathroom in which it lives, and it's exactly the shade I would have picked if such a shade had been available back when we registered for that one. So it turned out to be a pleasant surprise, this happy laundry accident.
In other news, I'm feeling the effects of post-nasal drip, which is always fun. I've been sneezing a lot in the last week or so, so I've been taking extra allergy medicine. It hasn't been much help, and I've had a lot of snot, which just yesterday began to work its way down out of my nose and into other areas. Yum. My throat feels all mucusy and closed up, and I have the urge to spit a lot. This happened to me last spring during allergy season, and it doesn't feel like a cold or the flu or anything, so I'm not concerned. It's just a gross way to feel, especially since nothing I've eaten today has tasted quite right. I want to be not congested.
I had a fun cooking adventure yesterday; I made orange cookies for a dinner date with Jeannette and Chris. It was a pretty easy recipe, except that the dough had to chill for two hours, and they're like crispy sugar cookies with a hint of orange. Jeannette cooked us some fabulous pumpkin-stuffed pasta (sounds odd, but it's sooooo good) and steamed broccoli and cauliflower, and she also made salad and found some excellent bread and Spanish sheep's cheese at Whole Foods. It was a real event, and everything was fabulously tasty. I credit her with being the driving force behind my expansion into adventurous cooking and eating. If it weren't for her and my ability to search for recipes on the internet, I think we'd still be eating mostly simple, boxed foods, and pumpkin-stuffed pasta would sound really weird instead of tempting. I also never would have learned about spaghetti squash, which is now one of Jack's and my favorite dinners. =) Anyway, dinner with them is always a good time. We were also planning on renting What's Up, Doc?, a supposedly funny movie about a musicologist, which Jeannette insists I must see, but on the way to the video store after dinner, we decided we were too tired and old to stay up late. It was almost 9 p.m. by that point, so Jack and I wouldn't have been heading back to Baton Rouge until 11. As it was, we came back and ended up sitting around and chatting, drinking decaf coffee and munching on my orange cookies while Jack and Chris discussed various nerdy computer things, and it was a splendid evening. I made Jack drive home, and I fell asleep before we even got out of New Orleans. It would be so cool if we lived closer to them so we could hang out more often! But circumstances all around dictate that each of us stay in the city we're currently in, so it'll have to be an unfulfilled wish.
On a related food topic, I tried unsuccessfully to make Joy of Cooking waffles the other night. My dad and I used to make them on occasional Sunday mornings (plus bacon... mmm), and they were always so yummy despite their apparent complexity. I made the batter without any trouble (separating egg whites from their yolks is one of my favorite kitchen tasks), but they ended up sticking to the iron horribly. I seasoned the freaking thing with oil as soon as I got it several years ago, but I've never been able to make a batch of waffles, no matter what kind of batter I use, without having them stick. It's obnoxious. I sort of fell apart and began crying after the waffle attempt was unsuccessful, because I started thinking about all the times he and I had made waffles together and how it should be easy. Jack tried to come in and rescue me, but I shooed him away while I made the rest of the batter into pancakes instead. I guess there are some things that only our parents can do right. In any case, I'd love to know how to properly season a waffle iron, since I don't think I've ever had the instruction manual for this one and I feel that I've failed so far in waffling. Comments? Advice?
In other news, I'm feeling the effects of post-nasal drip, which is always fun. I've been sneezing a lot in the last week or so, so I've been taking extra allergy medicine. It hasn't been much help, and I've had a lot of snot, which just yesterday began to work its way down out of my nose and into other areas. Yum. My throat feels all mucusy and closed up, and I have the urge to spit a lot. This happened to me last spring during allergy season, and it doesn't feel like a cold or the flu or anything, so I'm not concerned. It's just a gross way to feel, especially since nothing I've eaten today has tasted quite right. I want to be not congested.
I had a fun cooking adventure yesterday; I made orange cookies for a dinner date with Jeannette and Chris. It was a pretty easy recipe, except that the dough had to chill for two hours, and they're like crispy sugar cookies with a hint of orange. Jeannette cooked us some fabulous pumpkin-stuffed pasta (sounds odd, but it's sooooo good) and steamed broccoli and cauliflower, and she also made salad and found some excellent bread and Spanish sheep's cheese at Whole Foods. It was a real event, and everything was fabulously tasty. I credit her with being the driving force behind my expansion into adventurous cooking and eating. If it weren't for her and my ability to search for recipes on the internet, I think we'd still be eating mostly simple, boxed foods, and pumpkin-stuffed pasta would sound really weird instead of tempting. I also never would have learned about spaghetti squash, which is now one of Jack's and my favorite dinners. =) Anyway, dinner with them is always a good time. We were also planning on renting What's Up, Doc?, a supposedly funny movie about a musicologist, which Jeannette insists I must see, but on the way to the video store after dinner, we decided we were too tired and old to stay up late. It was almost 9 p.m. by that point, so Jack and I wouldn't have been heading back to Baton Rouge until 11. As it was, we came back and ended up sitting around and chatting, drinking decaf coffee and munching on my orange cookies while Jack and Chris discussed various nerdy computer things, and it was a splendid evening. I made Jack drive home, and I fell asleep before we even got out of New Orleans. It would be so cool if we lived closer to them so we could hang out more often! But circumstances all around dictate that each of us stay in the city we're currently in, so it'll have to be an unfulfilled wish.
On a related food topic, I tried unsuccessfully to make Joy of Cooking waffles the other night. My dad and I used to make them on occasional Sunday mornings (plus bacon... mmm), and they were always so yummy despite their apparent complexity. I made the batter without any trouble (separating egg whites from their yolks is one of my favorite kitchen tasks), but they ended up sticking to the iron horribly. I seasoned the freaking thing with oil as soon as I got it several years ago, but I've never been able to make a batch of waffles, no matter what kind of batter I use, without having them stick. It's obnoxious. I sort of fell apart and began crying after the waffle attempt was unsuccessful, because I started thinking about all the times he and I had made waffles together and how it should be easy. Jack tried to come in and rescue me, but I shooed him away while I made the rest of the batter into pancakes instead. I guess there are some things that only our parents can do right. In any case, I'd love to know how to properly season a waffle iron, since I don't think I've ever had the instruction manual for this one and I feel that I've failed so far in waffling. Comments? Advice?
Labels: friends, kitchen adventures, my dad
- posted by erica 10/30/2004 05:48:00 PM
- 4 comments
8.14.2003
Mom and I had a really fun time while she was here. I bought a vacuum cleaner that gives me great joy (because I no longer have to succumb to "carperpetuation", the act of running the vacuum over and over a piece of dirt trying in vain to pick it up). We also spent some time looking at new furniture for our house, even though we didn't buy anything. We did a more thorough measurement of the floorspace in the house so we know how much hardwood flooring we'll need, and Mom got to see the house in all its unfinished glory. It was pretty hot, which no person traveling from Pennsylvania would enjoy, but I tried to keep her inside most of the time. =)
Jack met with the seller of the house yesterday, and he came away from it feeling really good about the whole process. We got the guy's phone number, so we no longer have to go through our well-meaning, pain-in-the-ass realtor who doesn't always get back to us right away... so this will eliminate the middle-man. We don't have the flooring quite nailed down (ha ha), but we're closer than ever, and the house looks to be finished on schedule, sometime around the end of this month.
In other news, we went to the Episcopal Church affiliated with LSU on Sunday, which I had been to once before but will probably never return to. The pastor there, who's also the Episcopal chaplain for the university, read a letter from the Louisiana bishop who had recently returned from the convention that approved the appointment of the first openly-gay bishop ever (a quick YAY!!). The Louisiana bishop confessed that he was troubled over the issue, and he said he had voted "no" to Bishop-elect Robinson's appointment and "no" to another issue facing the convention, whether to compose rites for same-sex unions to be approved three years from now. Both of these passed despite several negative votes, but apparently, state bishops will have the power to say "not in my state," so to speak, and ban the rites from being performed under their jurisdiction. Anyway, he explained his consideration of the issues, and I believe he isn't someone who despises the lifestyle because of homophobia or replusion or anything like that. He seemed to have given it a great deal of thought and still to have come to the conclusion that homosexual behavior and the church don't so much mix. After reading this letter, the chaplain said that he agreed with the bishop's opinions. He explained his earnest hope that the church not split because of this, and he reminded us that Jesus, not political issues, should be the church's focus. I respect his prayerful consideration of how to deal with this question, but I don't think I can ever look to someone like that as a spiritual leader. By the middle of his sermon, I was crying, and I continued to cry for most of the rest of the service, because as long as I live in this state, I'm living in a place that for the most part doesn't agree that my dad would have had the same rights and mechanisms as a straight man to declare his love for someone, if he had found that someone while he was living. I cried not because of what the bishop and this pastor said, but because they honestly believe that homosexuality is a sin. I had been elated when I heard Gene Robinson the day after the vote in an NPR interview, and I kept thinking, "Wow, it's a good week to be an Episcopalian!" I got a harsh reminder that my church isn't unified on this issue, and people are talking about it splitting sometime in the future. We didn't split when women were finally allowed to become priests; heck, we were the only major church in the United States that didn't split over slavery during the Civil War. It's hard to accept that all that unity and positive cooperation could be ending. It certainly makes me wonder how long it will be before gays and lesbians will get the treatment to which they're entitled, especially in a country whose laws are supposed to be separated from its religious beliefs. We'll see.
Jack met with the seller of the house yesterday, and he came away from it feeling really good about the whole process. We got the guy's phone number, so we no longer have to go through our well-meaning, pain-in-the-ass realtor who doesn't always get back to us right away... so this will eliminate the middle-man. We don't have the flooring quite nailed down (ha ha), but we're closer than ever, and the house looks to be finished on schedule, sometime around the end of this month.
In other news, we went to the Episcopal Church affiliated with LSU on Sunday, which I had been to once before but will probably never return to. The pastor there, who's also the Episcopal chaplain for the university, read a letter from the Louisiana bishop who had recently returned from the convention that approved the appointment of the first openly-gay bishop ever (a quick YAY!!). The Louisiana bishop confessed that he was troubled over the issue, and he said he had voted "no" to Bishop-elect Robinson's appointment and "no" to another issue facing the convention, whether to compose rites for same-sex unions to be approved three years from now. Both of these passed despite several negative votes, but apparently, state bishops will have the power to say "not in my state," so to speak, and ban the rites from being performed under their jurisdiction. Anyway, he explained his consideration of the issues, and I believe he isn't someone who despises the lifestyle because of homophobia or replusion or anything like that. He seemed to have given it a great deal of thought and still to have come to the conclusion that homosexual behavior and the church don't so much mix. After reading this letter, the chaplain said that he agreed with the bishop's opinions. He explained his earnest hope that the church not split because of this, and he reminded us that Jesus, not political issues, should be the church's focus. I respect his prayerful consideration of how to deal with this question, but I don't think I can ever look to someone like that as a spiritual leader. By the middle of his sermon, I was crying, and I continued to cry for most of the rest of the service, because as long as I live in this state, I'm living in a place that for the most part doesn't agree that my dad would have had the same rights and mechanisms as a straight man to declare his love for someone, if he had found that someone while he was living. I cried not because of what the bishop and this pastor said, but because they honestly believe that homosexuality is a sin. I had been elated when I heard Gene Robinson the day after the vote in an NPR interview, and I kept thinking, "Wow, it's a good week to be an Episcopalian!" I got a harsh reminder that my church isn't unified on this issue, and people are talking about it splitting sometime in the future. We didn't split when women were finally allowed to become priests; heck, we were the only major church in the United States that didn't split over slavery during the Civil War. It's hard to accept that all that unity and positive cooperation could be ending. It certainly makes me wonder how long it will be before gays and lesbians will get the treatment to which they're entitled, especially in a country whose laws are supposed to be separated from its religious beliefs. We'll see.
Labels: church, family, house, my dad
- posted by erica 8/14/2003 10:38:00 PM
- 0 comments
4.24.2003
One week until my birthday... la la la... and then I'll be OLD. 23. Wow.
Things are shaping up for the move... we reserved our "Budget" truck last night... I put Budget in quotes since it's not exactly cheap ($1400). But it's less than U-Haul, so we went with them. How ridiculous. Anyway, we're still waiting to hear about the apartment. We might be getting a first floor place, since one of the long-time residents from the first floor would like to move upstairs, but our future landlord doesn't have anything from them in writing yet. He said he should be able to make it work, though, which will save us lots of effort and hernias, not having to lift our sofa, dining room table, etc. up a staircase. We'll see. Jack talked to the GM at Waldenbooks again today, and she said she'll be putting him as a bookseller at the beginning, but she'll start training him immediately on being "head" bookseller, which he'll take over as soon as he's trained. Of course, we have no idea what a head bookseller does that's different from the rest of them, but he'll have more responsibility, possibly a key, and more money (we hope).
We started rearranging things last night in preparation for packing. We cleared off the dining room table completely, which was a big task, if you haven't seen it. See, we don't eat on it, because we only have one folding chair (the others are waiting to be constructed). So since the table is a flat, unused surface, it has accumulated magazines, craft items, books, my research notes for my Gershwin paper last semester, and all sorts of other odds and ends that are now put away, thank heavens! We also began to go through the boxes we never unpacked, mostly Daddy's stuff that we thought we should save, to try to sort it and decide what we didn't need, like the ten THOUSAND mysterious cables and computer parts that he saved for some reason. =) We found a few things that we'll probably put on Ebay... as long as we can get the shipping costs covered, I don't care how much we make, because if someone can actually use this stuff, I'm all for letting them have it! The apartment is more of an obstacle course than it's been, which is fun for our cat, and I suspect it'll be this way until we move. How exciting. I'm glad I have a few weeks after my classes are over to get stuff together and boxed up. We're going to a Phillies game on Wednesday, May 14, and they're playing my friends, the Diamondbacks. (I decided during the World Series in 2002 that the Diamondbacks were really cool, and then they won. I'm not a bandwagoner; I just know friendly people when I see them. So they're my friends.)
Okay, 'tis dinner time... leftover pizza and other various and sundry items from the fridge. Wish us luck.
Things are shaping up for the move... we reserved our "Budget" truck last night... I put Budget in quotes since it's not exactly cheap ($1400). But it's less than U-Haul, so we went with them. How ridiculous. Anyway, we're still waiting to hear about the apartment. We might be getting a first floor place, since one of the long-time residents from the first floor would like to move upstairs, but our future landlord doesn't have anything from them in writing yet. He said he should be able to make it work, though, which will save us lots of effort and hernias, not having to lift our sofa, dining room table, etc. up a staircase. We'll see. Jack talked to the GM at Waldenbooks again today, and she said she'll be putting him as a bookseller at the beginning, but she'll start training him immediately on being "head" bookseller, which he'll take over as soon as he's trained. Of course, we have no idea what a head bookseller does that's different from the rest of them, but he'll have more responsibility, possibly a key, and more money (we hope).
We started rearranging things last night in preparation for packing. We cleared off the dining room table completely, which was a big task, if you haven't seen it. See, we don't eat on it, because we only have one folding chair (the others are waiting to be constructed). So since the table is a flat, unused surface, it has accumulated magazines, craft items, books, my research notes for my Gershwin paper last semester, and all sorts of other odds and ends that are now put away, thank heavens! We also began to go through the boxes we never unpacked, mostly Daddy's stuff that we thought we should save, to try to sort it and decide what we didn't need, like the ten THOUSAND mysterious cables and computer parts that he saved for some reason. =) We found a few things that we'll probably put on Ebay... as long as we can get the shipping costs covered, I don't care how much we make, because if someone can actually use this stuff, I'm all for letting them have it! The apartment is more of an obstacle course than it's been, which is fun for our cat, and I suspect it'll be this way until we move. How exciting. I'm glad I have a few weeks after my classes are over to get stuff together and boxed up. We're going to a Phillies game on Wednesday, May 14, and they're playing my friends, the Diamondbacks. (I decided during the World Series in 2002 that the Diamondbacks were really cool, and then they won. I'm not a bandwagoner; I just know friendly people when I see them. So they're my friends.)
Okay, 'tis dinner time... leftover pizza and other various and sundry items from the fridge. Wish us luck.
Labels: baseball, crappy second apartment, my dad
- posted by erica 4/24/2003 05:18:00 PM
- 0 comments
4.03.2003
My dad died a year ago today. Sometimes it feels like it just happened, and sometimes I look back on my life when he was around and can't help thinking it was a completely different time. I was lucky enough for a little while to have three parents who loved me. I had someone to discuss opera with, someone whose classical record collection makes most people's CD collections look tiny in comparison. I had someone with a solution for every computer problem that I ever ran into. He was this amazing force, and sometimes I was even lucky enough to realize it. I was also lucky enough to have two days with him, the last two, to get things right again between us after so many years of them being a little bit wrong. I see funny commercials that I know would have started him laughing uncontrollably, shaking his whole body, and I miss him. I think about how many changes my life is about to undergo (and has already, for that matter), and I wish I could talk to him. He told me sometimes that I didn't share enough of my news with him, probably because I was too busy. Now I tell him everything, even though he's not on the other side of the room, or the other end of the phone line, or the other side of the IM conversation. I wish I could hear his responses. It's absurd that he and I should have a better relationship now that he's dead, but I think that's how it is. I understand him now the way I never could when he was only in my reality. He comes to my dreams so often that I look forward to falling asleep in a way I never used to do.
Labels: my dad, observations
- posted by erica 4/03/2003 04:30:00 PM
- 0 comments
