Book Review 2010 (Part One)

The review is part one because I am going to take this section to review just two books in some detail, and the next post to make short reviews of all that I read this year. My two selections here are the winning recommendations from last year. I include summaries, but no real spoilers as both books are works of non-fiction.

The Necklace: Thirteen Women and the Experiment That Transformed Their Lives
by Cheryl Jarvis

recommended by GenJunky

Early in this decade, a woman in southern California (who considers herself an old hippie) walked past a jewelry store she had seen dozens of time, but was completely caught off guard by the beauty of a diamond necklace that was on display in the window. Over the ensuing weeks she admired it many times, but was struck by the thought that such remarkable luxury was available to so few. If other resources could be shared, why not a necklace?

Upon finding out that the necklace was going to be auctioned, she sprang into action and recruited a dozen women to each put up $1,000 and put in a bid on the piece. Each would own the necklace. The jeweler, amazed to see such regular and enthusiastic women in his store (diametrically opposed to his regular crowd) that he let the necklace go for a fraction of its worth on the condition that his wife could join the group.

The group, known as "Jewelia" (the truly inane name chosen for The Necklace), met monthly to swap stories, pass on the necklace and, ultimately raise money for charity.

Oh, and fight.

The thing is that while I love the premise of this book, and the idea behind their sharing, I had a really hard time with the book itself. Each chapter is a character sketch of the women. And though each is certainly unique, I have to admit that I didn't really feel connected to any of them. Even the ones described as being of modest means (and some of them certainly had backgrounds that fit the term), seemed exceptionally wealthy to me without truly appreciating just how remarkably blessed they were. It was rather astounding to me that they had to become a part of the group before they felt the necessity of sharing their (vast, by global terms) resources with others.

The jeweler who sold the necklace said the wear and tear on the clasp of the thing indicates that it was worn nearly 700 times the second year after purchasing (like anyone can KNOW that). With a single owner, such a high-end item might be worn just 2 or 3 times in a year. My first thought is that so much wear and share would take away from the wonder and uniqueness of such a thing, but on the other hand, the women say that what makes the necklace so special is the sharing. Interesting idea.

Some of the lessons of the necklace were truly profound. It seems that for the most part, their involvement in the group has made them less selfish, more bonded to a strong sisterhood, and more community-minded. On the other hand, some of the essays seemed trying too hard to create meaning, or shared lessons just a little too personal. Like the woman who only could convince her husband to let her join because she told him that she would wear ONLY Jewelia during their lovemaking. That is only the tip of the TMI iceberg.

I'm not exactly certain why I disliked the book so much. The essays, for the most part, weren't brilliant. Jarvis is a nationally renowned magazine writer (according the jacket), but I really didn't like her writing in this format. The timeline was all over the place; I didn't know what year anything was happening and it lost me a little bit. I also couldn't keep the women straight. Though they were different, most of their stories weren't all that memorable and when she would refer to one of the women later in another's essay, I was always thinking "Which one is this again?"

I think it is a book that would have been wonderful as a blog. The women who started Jewelia should have chronicled their journey in their OWN essays. It may have been more convincing.


A Short History of Nearly Everything
by Bill Bryson

recommended by Katie

I feel a bit sous doing the review of this one now because I haven't actually finished it yet. I was truthfully a bit daunted by the size and topic, though the recommendation came from a highly trusted source. I was hoping to finish by year's end, but it just won't happen. I'll be close, but not quite there.

This book is basically a chronicle of all major scientific discoveries for lay people. I love it because so much of the science he describes I already have a basic understanding of, so I don't get lost in the details. What I didn't know was all the drama behind so many of these discoveries. The history, and maybe more so the telling of it, of scientific thought in the 1800's reads like an episode from a soap opera. He has really delved to find the story behind the eccentric and brilliant people whose remarkable discoveries have made modern life possible. Bryson worked hard to find female contributors as well. (Favorite anecdote read today: Marie Curie was so steeped in radiation that even her personal effects, many of which still are in existence, are still emitting toxic levels of it, 80 years after her death. To handle her things, even her cookbooks!, researchers must don special suits and remove the artifacts from lead-lined boxes. Awesome.)

It would have been so amazing to have had science professors who could have elucidated the history of all the discoveries about which they took such care to teach the details. I can see Bryson's point about science being so fascinating, but so inaccessible. When I teach again I think I will incorporate some of this human drama into the process. What a great approach to a student textbook. This book (which reads like a novel in sections) has also shown me what a great addition to a humanities course the history of science could be.

And I haven't even made it to all the good, meaty biological science portion yet. You see, the oldest science is really math. Once scientists had a good understanding of math, a study of physics became possible. When planetary motion proved baffling, Newton had to first discover a new math (calculus) in order to move forward. From physics you can move outward to astronomy or inward to chemistry. And only when chemical interactions can be explained, understood and cataloged, can the biologist create any meaning from the observations he makes. So the biological stuff will come later. I can hardly wait.

It isn't a book for everyone. I think Bryson kind of takes atheism as a basic premise in his foundation. I, for one, will take just the opposite stance. I find such wonder in all that he describes. Even as we find explanations for things, we can never discount the depth of intelligence in all living things. Our most brilliant men just shake their heads and shrug about what happened, what was, where everything was, in the instant before the Big Bang. I think it will be funny when we get to the other side with our list of questions only to find out that we were wrong about so much that the questions themselves don't even make sense. We will ALL have to go back to Science 101 to really figure stuff out.


Now it is your turn!

Submit your recommendations here. I will randomly choose two and read them next year (preferably a little bit earlier!) along with whatever else happens my way. You can recommend as many books as you'd like, but I will only give each person a maximum of two entries in the contest. A $10 Amazon gift card if I pick your book. Let's try to get 50 recommendations!

Contest ends on January 10.

2010 Wrap Up

I started the morning with some personal responses in the comments section of my last post. I also appreciate personal notes that were sent to me after the post. What an interesting topic for discussion. I hope that some time in the future I will sit down at table with so many smart friends and just chat. With goodies, of course.

It was a year full of so many blessings. I'm filled with such wonderful gratitude today. The year is winding down with a flurry of activity, but punctuated with small moments of sheer happiness. It will be another wonderful Christmas in our family and it felt good to not just spend money this year, but also time. I had three fairly big projects for gifts this year that involved a lot making and creating instead of just buying. It feels very, very good. We worked harder this year to look outside our family as well.

If I am smart, I will allow years like 2010 to stay deep in my memory so that when hard times come I don't forget what happiness feels like, so that I remember God's love and blessing come what may.

Happy Christmas, all.

Sex and Power and the LDS Woman

I find myself singing to my kids often--snippets of songs, really. I think I do this because my mother did. And just like her I sing in snippets because I can't remember all the words and when I am on my own with no music I'm usually off key. One of my earliest mom-song-memories is Helen Reddy singing the great feminist anthem:

I am woman hear me roar
In numbers too big too ignore
And I know too much to go back and pretend
'Cause I've heard it all before
And I've been down there on the floor
No one's ever gonna' keep me down again.

It is funny, really, that this song, a huge hit the year I was born, should have so permeated my childhood. My mom did not, and definitely does not now, consider herself a feminist. And yet, she represented all that the movement wanted--she rose up from a difficult family life to attend college, told her boyfriend she wouldn't be married until she finished college (marrying in 1969), insisted on going back to work part time after her children were born, managed her own money and bank account for her whole adult life, had four children spaced exactly as she chose them to be. Growing up, it never occurred to me that there might be places in America where men and women weren't treated as equals. In my family, the women always had equal say with the men. Always.

And yet I don't consider myself a feminist either. It is ironic really, because I also completely recognize that my lifestyle, choices and self-actualization are a direct outgrowth from that time. I am not a feminist because for all the good the movement did for women in my generation, there were also heavy costs. A huge part of the movement, and the 1960's in general, was an exploration of sexual "freedom." Instead of helping to create a world where men were held to the same high standard that women had always been judged against, they advocated the freedom for women to act to the lowest common denominator. Empowering women became so wrapped up in sex that all the good work the feminists did ended up resulting in some pretty terrible unintended consequences. Women may now exhibit all kinds of lewd behavior without the consequences of a generation or two ago, but in the process these same women cause men to further objectify them. So much for the sexual revolution being anything more than huge step in the wrong direction.

A few months ago, Kathryn Soper, one of the lovely and talented women behind Segullah, posted an incredible article at a website called "Patheos." The article is about the ways in which we miss the mark when it comes to teaching teen aged women about chastity. Her insights are fascinating, the writing engaging, and her personal experiences deeply poignant. If you haven't had a friend send you the piece yet, you really should take a few minutes to go and read it. Ever since reading it a few weeks ago, I haven't been able to quite put it out of my head, and though I won't be as eloquent, I would like to add some of my own thoughts here.

The article begins by pointing out that most teenage girls do not engage in sexual activity because of an overwhelming desire to have sex. In fact, a New Yorker article from a couple of years ago, when reviewing the Twilight books, believed the popularity of the books was due to the fact that young women want love without sex. Soper asserts the same, and quotes President Ezra Taft Benson to back her up. The teen sex itself is a symptom of a deeper problem. Or problems.

Going further, Soper focuses the rest of her piece on just one of these problems: power.

Too many young girls, maybe particularly LDS girls, feel a lack of power. In this case, power is defined as a person feeling like they have a large measure of control over what happens to them. When we talk about power at church, we most often talk about Priesthood power--exclusive to men; or the power of procreation--inaccessible without a man. It isn't that there aren't plenty of examples of female power within the Church, it is just that our terminology doesn't acknowledge it.

When a powerless feeling is coupled with a strong need for love and/or attention, sexuality is the most obvious default for a teenager. Because, let's face it, ladies, men are wired to be deeply driven by sex. Women who learn from an early age to manipulate that desire can gain a lot of power. Of course, Soper reminds us, the power is just an illusion because it isn't based on something inside the young person, it is based on others' perceptions of her. Like the other power mentioned above, such burgeoning sexual power is based on something a man gives or does or notices.

I'd like to add that the power usually only lasts as long as the object of young man's desire is unattainable. Studies show that the vast majority of teen relationships end within a month or two of a couple's first sexual encounter. Girls, of course, have the most to lose in such a break-up, because it ensures that the temporary substitute for love is now absent, and to make matters worse, she has given up the only source of power that she had. In the self-image crash that inevitably follows, needs deepen further and our powerless young teenager finds herself repeating her mistakes because this time it will be "different."

The remainder of Soper's article is in the form of a personal essay, where she bravely talks about her first encounter with the realization that sexual power was within her grasp. In my own life, I was lucky not to have such an experience when I was in my mid-teens, though I knew that many of my friends understood that power. At the time, it didn't feel lucky. Other than a brief stint during my junior year, I could count on one hand the number of dates I had until I was twenty years old.

I was so jealous of the way my many friends could flirt and tease and even manipulate to find any number of boys with which to spend a Friday night. Or to take out the garbage. Or to lift something heavy. Or to hang on their every word. Or ultimately, to spend three months salary on a diamond ring.

Yet, even as my bitterness and mild disdain for what I perceived as the weakness of men grew (along with frustration over my sisters' cruelty toward them), I was busy cultivating other sources of power: intellectual, emotional and spiritual.

Then, when I was twenty years old, something remarkable happened. After a very unusual set of circumstances that landed me in Sacramento California and hanging out with a guy I didn't really like all that well, I looked into his eyes (too) late one night and I recognized exactly what Kathryn Soper is talking about in her article: sudden approval where before there had only been indifference. Bald desire that frightened me.

I kept my power and walked away from the situation, terrified at what I was capable of, and more than a little embarrassed. Because of this person's previous role in my life, for me to suddenly have such a hold was complete reversal, and more than a little exhilarating. What I learned that night, however, without really realizing it, was that "no," was more powerful than desire. My choice, my decision, was a product of every part of my power, not just my sexuality.

In Disneyland last month I was terribly disappointed not to see more evidence of Mulan: my favorite Disney-heroine and the consummate non-Princess. At the first of that movie, right after a disastrous trip to the matchmaker, she goes to the temple of her ancestors, made up and lovely. She is the classic picture of Chinese beauty. Yet, she knows as she catches her image in the highly polished stones that the gorgeous woman she sees is not a reflection of herself. As she wipes the make-up off just one half of her face, she sings,

Who is that girl I see?
Staring straight back at me?
When will my reflection show
Who I am, inside?

I saw this movie the summer I met Plantboy. I was quite self-actualized for 23, but I understood Mulan's sentiment exactly. How many times had I asked myself the same question, though perhaps without the moving vocals. Mulan is not just a love story between a man and woman, it is also a love story of a girl and her father, a girl and her country, a girl and herself.

Some time in my early thirties, I finally looked into the mirror one day and loved the woman I saw staring straight back at me. I found the place where I ceased to see myself through others eyes, even Plantboy's, and I felt deeply empowered. Intellectually, emotionally, spiritually and sexually. A balance that had taken me half my life to finally achieve.

The question I have today is, "why did it take so long?" What can be done to speed this process for the wondering and wandering young women we know and love so that they can be the heroines in their own lives?

Just a few weeks ago, a man in our ward gave a wonderful fireside about dating, but during his remarks he noted that if you believed yourself to be "in love" in high school, then you were just being ridiculous. (Ironically, his own wife, to whom he is very close, is his high school sweetheart.) I felt impressed to drive one of my young women home and speak to her a little more closely: she is dealing with some serious empowerment issues right now, and a serious boyfriend issue. I told her that loving another person wasn't ridiculous, and that part of the nature of women was to be loving. I reiterated that it is never okay to break the commandments, but that there are plenty of appropriate ways to give and express all kinds of love, even that feeling of romantic love. I pray that she will feel the power that comes into her life by choosing to be chaste. By choosing to love. By choosing her own path and asserting what she really wants. Mostly I pray that she will find her power before she finds herself on a road where she actually is helpless.

It is a hard thing we ask of our youth and young adults; it is a hard standard the Lord holds us to while simultaneously blessing us with such powerful needs, but we weren't sent here to fail, either. Empowerment is about realizing that we can do hard things. Because I am God's daughter.

A woman.

Strong. Feminine. Empowered.

Hear me roar!

Home. With Souvenirs.

Where to even start? The thing with blogging is that I do it a lot when I have little to say and plenty of time to say it. Today, for example, I have a hundred things I could say and Christmas already breathing heavily down my neck. (I guess that puts Christmas on the "naughty" list.)

In an attempt to organize my thoughts, I will break up my experiences the post into two categories--Awesome. Not Awesome.

Awesome

1. San Fransisco. What a cool city. I would dearly love to go and visit with a few girlfriends next spring to see a show and more of the city. We decided to go the public transport route, which was a good choice, but it also meant that there were parts of the city we couldn't really get to. The weather was gorgeous and sunny. It wasn't the easiest place to take kids, but seeing their faces as they climbed in and out of the submarine was pretty great.

2. Exchanging presents with my sister that we have been collecting and/or making for months . With one sickish child and one baby, she had a very long and difficult week.

3. Meeting up with my family at Disneyland on November 15, which also happens to be my youngest brother's birthday. It was a blast to wait in line for the Peter Pan Ride with each other, swapping stories and joking with one another. We told my mom that for his birthday next year (he'll be 30) we are expecting a cruise! After all, we teased her, he IS the baby and still the favorite. We broke into a spontaneous birthday song while my forever mocking youngest sib turned red with embarrassment. Too bad we forgot to pick up one of these:


And don't forget these bad boys:
4. Everything about California Adventure. That place is really wonderful. I had more fun there than in Disneyland. I loved the way it was all lit up at night down by the water, like an old-fashioned amusement park. A couple of really fun "big-kid" rides are over on that side. We got to see the World of Color show, wherein Disney magic uses a wall of water instead of a screen on which to project images from their shows. (Now available on DVD!!) I thought they should have ended with "Paint With All the Colors of the Wind" however, instead of the cheesy written-for-the-show number called "World of Color" set to the princess-fest images.

5. Seeing the Jedi Knight really come out of his shell as one of the big kid cousins. He tried every "scary" ride except for one and for the most part really loved them, working out some complicated ranking system for the rides. The only one he didn't love was Space Mountain. "That was the worst experience of my life!" he said more than once when he came out. Still, it didn't scar him too bad. He told somebody the other day that the vacation, as a whole, was the "best experience of his life."

6. Mostly short lines and gorgeous, temperate weather. Don't tell anyone, but the week before Thanksgiving is the time to go.

7. Watching all four cousins who wanted to participate get picked for the Jedi show at the same time. One of the boys has tried four times. Jedi Knight stared down a very realistic Darth Maul, with no small amount of terror in his face, but his training kicked in and he didn't join the Dark Side, I'm happy to report. I have had some worry on that point.

8. Shamu. Duh. The Youngling had picked up a stuffed Shamu after the first show and carried her around all day. When we went to another Shamu show, he acted out all of Shamu's best "moves" with his stuffy. Youngling has hardly been able to part from her since we got home.

9. Spending the night with my lovely cousin in San Diego. She holds a very special place in my heart, and we relate to one another on a level that isn't always there with other members of my extended family. Her kids were hilarious and an instant bond was struck with five boys ages 3 to barely 9. I remembered just how much I liked her husband and how grateful I am to the Angel who sent him to her. I wish we could see them more often. Maybe they need to come north next time--a house on the coast would be just the thing when the 100 degree days rage across southern California again next summer.

10. Rides. Even the stupid ones. I love rides. I love getting scared out of my mind and leaving my stomach at the top of a ledge or slope or loop. I love the cheesy blacklight Disney paraphernalia and the ridiculously dated animatronics. I fell down at the end of each day just as exhausted as my children. It is remarkable what eight hours of sleep every night for a week can do to your outlook. Oh, and not having to cook a single meal.

11. Legoland. Everything about it. Everything. My kiddos were the perfect ages and we were able to see nearly all of the park in just a day. JK got the hard-to-find set of Legos that he's been saving months and months to buy. He was so happy.


12. Park food. Really. I don't think we had a bad meal inside any of the parks. We were pretty selective, and you do pay through the nose for it (what does that mean, anyway? If they would take what was coming through my nose then why didn't we just spend that?), but I felt like we at least didn't have to eat disgusting or greasy food. I especially loved my broccoli cheddar soup in a Boudin bread bowl on our last, cold night in California Adventures. Little did we know just what that chill in the air was going to mean!

13. The matching shirts that made my mom so happy and were a source of endless amusement.

Not Awesome

1. Getting lost in San Fransisco while trying to navigate our way to a hotel, and then a busy Saturday in the city with three kids.

2. Waiting 40 minutes for Peter Pan (almost the worst line of the week!) only to create an absolute terror of the dark in Padawan. The rest of the week, the question that preceded each ride was, "Is it dark?" Mostly I was truthful, but my memory from so many years back wasn't great and we made a few mistakes. For future reference, if you tell a youngish child that Splash Mountain will "not get them very wet, isn't dark, and isn't scary," then you are lying through your teeth.

3. Missing most of the Dolphin show because Plantboy took JK down to the "splash zone" while I sat with the little ones who got too hot and had too much sun in their eyes. We walked across the stadium and down to the shade, risking the splash zone wrath. We'd been seated for about 40 seconds when the Youngling had to pee. In fact, much of the whole trip seemed to involve either Plantboy or myself hunting desperately for a public toilet, and then convincing him that the gaping, noisy hole wouldn't suck his tiny butt right down. I quickly realized that all exits, except those at the TOP of the 50 stairs I'd just come down were closed. I ran him to the top, found my mom to sit next to Padawan and circled around the whole stadium to find a toilet that was 20 feet the opposite direction. "No accidents mom!" Back up the stairs to the top of the stadium and back down. I caught less than ten minutes of the Dolphin show. Raspberries.

4. Too many people EVERYWHERE. California is a nice place to visit very occasionally, but wouldn't want to live there. Twice this year (Redwoods, March) was ample.

5. The matching shirts that made my mom so happy and were a source of endless amusement.

Souvenirs

In this blog, I have tried to take the experiences I have on the journey and try to learn from them. Memories and lessons are, after all, the best souvenirs. After one particularly long letter from my mission, my mother wrote to say that I was the kind of person who "could glean a lot of living out of ordinary experiences." I think she meant it as a compliment, though sometimes I wonder if she was saying that I needed to just stop over thinking things!

To the purpose of gleaning some living, I'd like to share about our last day of vacation. The original plan had been to drive to Sacramento on Saturday and then the rest of the way home Sunday. This would break the trip into two 7-8 hour legs. Upon finding out the Primary Program was that Sunday, and consulting with the kids, we were in agreement--we had to be back on Sunday. It was better all around--we would avoid LA traffic completely by leaving at 3 in the morning, we would arrive home in time for everyone to have a good night's rest, and the kids would sleep at least a third of the ride in the car.

As of Redding, California, we were right on track, even with a long lunch. We were about 150 miles from the border and my calculations put us home at about 7 o'clock. Just time for grilled cheese sandwiches and bed. Then the snow started.

And didn't stop.

We got to the top of the pass in the Cascades in a near standstill. I was shaking like a leaf when we came to the road worker near an exit called Pollard Flats. (Don't bother finding it on the map; I don't think it is a real city. Just a gas station with a greasy spoon diner inside. And a bathroom. Thank heavens for that.

It was about four o'clock and here is the information we had: I-5 North was closed down for several miles while they tried to clear a wreck despite the ice and snow. Plows hadn't been down there yet. Nobody was going through without chains. "It might be open in an hour. It might be closed for three days. You just never know."

In short, we had very little information. We did, however, have chains. Why we had them defies all logic. Dressed in our southern California gear--I was in a light, matchy sweatsuit and Plantboy in shorts and a tee shirt--we figured out how to put the chains on using the waterproof (thank goodness for that) instructions.

While struggling to tighten the chains with numb fingers and soaked to the knees, I had a major epiphany. I knew that in just a couple of minutes I would be able to get inside the car and turn the heat all the way up if needed. We could go into the station and get some hot chocolate to warm the inside too. Even in the worst case scenario we'd be home safe and snug in bed in a few days. My kids were warm and dry. We had a full gas tank in the event that we'd need to run the car all night. We had food in the car and a few clean clothes.

I thought about my pioneer ancestors and bit back complaint. I thought about how pathetic and modern and useless I am.

After consulting with the kids, who were completely broken-hearted at the prospect of missing Sunday, we prayed at length and comforted one another. Prayer finished, we looked up to see five snowplows getting ready to head north. Miracles come in many forms.

But still we waited. I reminded Padawan about his talk for the next day: how Nephi was obedient even when it was hard. We decided we would do the same. An iPod with video capability, a charged laptop, the DVD player and a couple of good books didn't hurt our patience a bit. We ended up with two more bathroom stops. I reminded myself to be grateful even as I tried desperately not to touch anything in the filthy public restroom, even when the power went out while I was on the commode. There was a tub in there, which was odd enough, but somebody had hilariously added a really grotesque mannequin to it. Just weird. And don't get me started on the bumper stickers papering the walls; I really am grateful that the kind of folks of Pollard Flats decided to come to work that day.

Three hours later we gratefully left that little town, crawling along at 30 mph (speed limit 70) for the 70 miles it took to get to Weed, California. Yes, really. We de-chained two-hundred miles from home. It was 10:30 pm and we had to change drivers three more times to keep from falling asleep. Plantboy and I went to bed at 2 am.

But we were on time for church. Padawan's talk was wonderful and perfect. His little freckly face spoke straight from his heart and my own spirit was deeply touched.

Our six hour delay taught me so much.

* Before I knew what was happening, my stress was so palpable that I could, quite literally, feel my muscles stiffening as my heart beat faster and faster. Once we had something to DO, even something as miserable as trying to put chains on our van, I felt so much better. So stress will kill me, but when I'm busy I don't feel stressed. It has helped me to see that the fog I've felt for the last year or so is probably because of uncertainty. Having plenty to do is not the problem.

* Being exhausted and stressed makes me snarly and mean. Plantboy, patient man, is still kind to me. By the time we snuggled into our covers in the wee hours of Sunday morning, I couldn't believe how blessed I am to be married to him. And while this isn't a NEW revelation, certainly, it is always a good reminder.

* I need to get a lot better about letting go of things I cannot control. I tried a lot harder this last week to just take deep breaths when things get crazy and just be in the moment. I feel a lot better. More committed to what really matters. More conscious of the gifts I've been given.

Happy Christmas, all.

Trying to Get My Head Above Water

I've got a long post nearly ready. It is all about my vacation and what I learned, etc. etc. The problem is that I am two weeks out and Disneyland is feeling so last month because I also want to post about my awesome Thanksgiving dinner, the extremely cool changes that are taking place in our ward, this must-read article by (the great) Kathryn Soper, etc. etc.

Instead I'm taking time out from my regularly scheduled life to point out the following:

Flynn Ryder is adorable.


"You became my new dream, Rapunzel."

????????????????????

Talk about your Darcy Effect.

Early Christmas

My mother decided in February this year, when she couldn't remember what she had given anyone for Christmas, that this year she would do something different. So tomorrow we are headed to California. The rest of my family is coming from Utah and we are all going to meet up for a week of theme-parking.

We've had months of excitement and anticipation, my mother is beside herself with joy, and the memories, no doubt, will be wonderful.

See you on the other side!

Parenting My Middle Child

Help.

Have I told you how much I love my middle son? He is smart--from his first smile at just two weeks old to his ability to handily beat me at memory to his memorization of something paragraphs long after just a few practices--this is one bright child. He is adorable and adoring when he takes a mind to be. He likes to tease and play in typical five year-old fashion. His four cowlicks, two of which swirl in opposite directions in his crown, guarantee that his hair always sticks up except for the two weeks after dad gives one of his great haircuts. He can charm anyone, and has a way of wrapping teachers and grown-ups around his finger after about four minutes in their class.

So why do I need help? If he is really so wonderful, then what, exactly is the problem?

Padawan went through some difficult kid-stuff between age two and three. I chalked it up to a new baby brother and a major move. Everything considered, in fact, he did remarkably well. He started coming into his own and the Jedi Knight always wanted him to tag along.

Then Jedi Knight went to school.
And Mommy had a baby and an early morning paper route.

And Padawan wasn't quite a big boy, but he wasn't quite a baby.

Ever since then, he has been stuck between big and little. He plays it to his advantage. "I don't want to do that, I'm not a baby like Youngling!" "I can't do that, I'm not a big boy like Jedi Knight."

So far, this is all typical middle child/5 year-old stuff. In fact, when I found out that number three was going to be a boy, I held Padawan close and kissed him, and though I never said it out loud I told him in my head a hundred times that I was sorry that he would never be my "baby" boy again. There was never a sweeter baby.

Then, about 18 months ago, when Plantboy and I took our tenth anniversary trip, he was left with my mom for a few days, and then a loving aunt the boys are crazy about. When I picked him up, he was full of stories of all that they had done, and seemed reluctant to leave Aunt Sugar. On our way home we noticed that he was doing this weird snorting, clearing his throat thing. I thought he'd picked up a cold at first.

He had not.

Allergies?

It didn't seem to be.

The thing is when he would sniff and clear his throat, he didn't seem to have any mucus. The odd habit, which got worse when he was nervous or when it was pointed out, became a tic which he would do several times an hour unless he became extremely busy and distracted. Having taught and/or tutored several students with Tourette's Syndrome before, it seemed like some things fell into place. People with TS tend to be rather OCD. Even as a young child, Youngling was fastidious about making sure that doors and drawers were shut and hated even having a drop of water or spot of mud or dirt on his clothes. In fact, my brother and I had sometimes joked about Padawan being OCD when we would watch him toddle over to any open doors and slam them shut. Now it was coupled with a tic--a tic that was exacerbated by nervousness.

I did some homework and shared what I learned with Plantboy, who had been trying various ways to make Padawan drop the habit, some of which were slightly punishing. I convinced Plantboy to just pretend it wasn't happening and to wait an see. I prayed a lot during that time, having seen brief glimpses into the lives of families who deal with TS.

Padawan stopped.

But after that we noticed some things. Any time he was in front of people--a talk a church, introduced to new people, even reciting Articles of Faith in family home evening--the tic would come back. Or another one would arise. Itching was really common.

Starting earlier his year he began a new default mode--we call it drama-boy mode. When something doesn't work out for him, he immediately begins pouting or crying or yelling or throwing things, including himself, to the ground. He has an initial outburst and then folds his arms and stomps away. Sometimes I don't even know what has made him angry. I've reassured him a hundred times that if he asks for help then I can give it to him and remind him that very few of his problems are unsolvable. I've also repeatedly focused on not doing things for him until he drops the drama and uses his words.

The irony is, that of all my kids, his basic personality is the most mellow. He isn't too upset about changes in schedule or spontaneous things. He used to remind me so much of my sweet, laid-back husband, but it is hard to really say that any more. These outbursts have started to overshadow every other part of him, and his lack of self-control is wreaking havoc on our family. He butts heads terribly with Plantboy; on especially bad days, peace between the two of them balances on a knife-point. He pushes me to the point where I yell, then I feel terrible and try to start over with him. His innermost nature is so sweet and forgiving that he is quick to hug and cuddle after we have trouble. He fights with his brothers, more than the other two fight with him. He bosses and loses his temper with them. He is stubborn when he plays and quick to explode when things don't go his way.

His latest OCD behavior is that he is very picky about the way his clothes fit. I have a huge container of clothes left over from Jedi Knight, and he will hardly wear any of them. He is perpetually out of clothes to wear because I can't wash fast enough to keep up with the only two pairs of pants he will actually wear to school--and one of the pairs he will only wear sometimes.

I have a plan for working through the clothing problem, and it will give him a chance to get lots of one-on-one time with mother. But I have a terrible feeling that solving the problem will only buy us a little bit of breathing room until the next "catastrophe."

This is the kind of post "they" say you should never write, because your children will hate you for it one day. But I didn't know who else to turn to than the folks, who oddly enough, know me the best because they visit here regularly*. I want to hear about your parenting experiences with middle children, nieces, nephews and grandchildren. I want to hear about your childhood (and adult!) experiences if you are in the middle yourself. Please don't assume that if your situation isn't identical that you can't offer something useful; I'm open to anything right now. Once I get some feedback, I will do a favor to Padawan's future self and move the post off the Internet.

Help.


*Blogger's stat counter is much better than the one I was using previously. I noticed that during the summer, according to my last stat counter, that I had a huge spike in the number of daily visitors after I went to Utah. Intrigued and pleased, I was feeling very self-assured. Enter Blogger's stats in September, with very specific information on which pages are getting the hits. My number one post every day for months has been that silly piece I wrote just before going on vacation about how I should have my hair cut. Apparently, running a Google search for certain types of haircuts brings back a hit for my blog that must be in the first page or two. I've had traffic from all over the world looking for the same kind of hair style I was hoping to achieve. Needless to say, Blogger's stat counter has greatly deflated my ego. It's a good thing.

The Church Makes the World Small

Last week my Visiting Teachers were here, and one of them told one of those stories that becomes typical if you are around Mormon culture very long--somebody that she knew was a friend to somebody else that turned out to be the roommate of her cousin and this connection led to some kind of wonderful and miraculous occurrence. This wasn't exactly the situation, but you get the drill.

The inevitable, "It's a small world," comment arose from her companion and I could practically hear the music begin in the background.

But, in echo of an uncle of mine from many years ago, I contradicted, "No, the world is large. It is the Church that makes it small."

She asked me to repeat what I'd said, and then to explain it. I shared with her one of my favorite instances of this phenomenon that makes Church members often much closer than six degrees of separation. It is also the story that prompted my uncle to make the above statement that I have thought of many times since I first heard it nearly 20 years ago.

My father's family is very large: he is the oldest of ten kids. About half of them have stayed close to their small town where they all grew up; the other half have gotten "out." However, getting out only meant leaving Utah for one of them. My Uncle Sam. (I actually have an uncle Sam. Not Samuel or Samson, just SAM.) He happened to be in town one weekend when the following story was told.

Another uncle and his wife won a trip to Europe. This is the uncle that wins everything. Really. If you need someone to guess how many jellybeans are in a jar to win the hot air balloon ride at the fair, he's your man. The problem is that he and his wife had never really been outside the western US, (other than trips to Okalahoma or Iowa to watch the National College Wrestling Finals) or had much desire to do so. Still, a trip to Europe is a trip to Europe and they went. When they returned they were filled with stories of bizarre and unfriendly cultural practices. They had little positive to share from their difficult 10 days, but one shining moment stood out above all others.

Tired and hungry, they had gone to a small restaurant in Italy. It had come recommended and looked promising, but ordering was difficult. They noticed, sitting just a table or two away, a couple who looked very American, sitting with their son who was obviously finishing up a mission. With nothing to lose, and desperately hoping to hear some friendly English-speaking voices, my aunt and uncle went over and introduced themselves. They were immediately asked to join their table and enjoyed an evening of pleasant conversation, with all meal ordering done in perfect Italian.

Typical questions (Oh! You are from Utah? Which part?) became more detailed when they learned exactly what city the family was from. It turned out that the returning missionary had been on my brother's soccer team all through high school and they were quite good friends.

In a random restaurant in a small town. Thousands of miles from home. In a foreign country.

It was my turn that day to say, "It's a small world." It was a dumb thing to say, really. My world was small. I'd never spent more than a few days together outside of Northern Utah in my whole life. To which Uncle Sam, who really had seen something of the world, and knew just how lonely it can be when you leave home, told me that the world was big. Very big. The Church made it small.

I understand better now.

Like mentioning to someone we barely knew in Logan that Plantboy and I would soon be moving to Houston, only to find out that his father was the bishop of the ward into which we were moving.

Like meeting a wonderful family in Houston who had lived in one of my wards in Australia, and we spoke of people we each knew.

Like having two dear friends from very different places in my life but finding that they knew each other through a study abroad program.

Like running into friends from our Houston ward at my in-laws house in Denver. They were staying with a family member--across the street.

Like needing to obtain a last minute temple recommend while Plantboy and I were temporarily living in Parker Colorado one summer only to find out that the Stake Presidency member interviewing me was the brother of a woman I had visit taught in Texas.

Like finding friends from high school in my current city, even in my ward.

Like the man in our ward who is doing business in China over the next few months, but found a branch there because his girlfriend (in New Zealand!) happens to know a woman who attends it.

I could go on, but I won't, because if you are reading here and you are LDS, you no doubt have a story of your own. Or many stories.

I also don't mean to imply that you have to be a Mormon to make such connections. I only know that I have never been a part of any group that allows me to make such broad connections among people. Though I have lived in many different parts of the country, it is always through being LDS that I am able to find the most "coincidental" connections with people.

Maybe this is why I feel so comfortable moving as often as I have? I know that when I enter a new city and ward, I'm creating a new "family." A new circle of connections that will make me a better person if I am willing to step up and take my part in the group. I know that I will find a wonderful camaraderie of people that have common cultural bonds despite being composed of unique individuals.

It is true that I'm white and Anglo-Saxon and all of that, and probably carry my fair share of prejudices and quirks because of my racial background, but I think I am mostly LDS. It is the first culture with which I identify myself. The Church makes the world small because I have brothers and sisters in dozens and dozens of countries. Like any large family, we have our share of problems and we need to keep working on our unity and charity, but it is a pretty great thing to be a part of too.

Okay, Just Admit It

He might not be the cutest thing you've ever seen, but only because you'd feel bad ranking him ahead of your own kids. Still, Padawan has to make some kind of short list for Most Adorable Child Ever.

Another Post About Me Hearting Public Education

MStanger posted this on his Facebook Page today: one of the few media sources I've read which is highly critical of the recent love affair with charter schools sweeping the country. Indeed, charter schools are about the only bi-partisan thing happening in this country right now, oddly enough. It takes a bit of time to read it, but it is wonderful, and worth passing along to every public school teacher that you know and love. My guess is that there are quite a few. My guess is that every one of you can cite a public school teacher as having had a remarkable effect on your life.

The posting was followed by a number of "yeah but" comments, and I started to respond, but there was just too much to say. So rather than clutter his page and quite possibly start an argument with some people I really like, I'll attempt some thoughts of my own here.

One of the lines of conversation on the thread went like this: that charters aren't actually necessary where there is open enrollment and school choice. I happen to live in a town with the most bizarre education system I've ever seen and my take is that open enrollment/school choice lends itself to a community that LOVES charter schools. The more the merrier!

I'll explain: the charter movement has been popular here because each parent/kid gets to attend exactly the type of school they want. Spanish, French and Japanese immersion campuses. Science academies. Art academies. Even the public high schools have mostly jumped on board and created mini-schools within each campus with different start times and isolation from other groups. If you have a curriculum you find and like and can get even 100 people to agree with you? Great! Apply for a charter. Our city is more than happy to give you money for a start up, despite the fact that many public middle and high school grade classes have upwards of 40 students in them. Oh, and don't forget about the very strong home-schooling movement in this area either. After ten to fifteen years with this local experiment, here are some of my observations.

Any time a teacher looks at a child wrong, the parent begins "shopping around" for a new school. I talk to parents all the time who are filled with nothing but criticisms and anger for previous schools they've attended, generally because of a single incident. (One mother pulled her daughter for the school's expectation that 30 absences for "illness" would be verified by a doctor.) Rather than attempting to sit down with concerned parties and solve issues in a way that is dignified and reasonable, the kids are pulled and sent some where else. The take home message, for the child, of course, is that your parents will always save you. That you only need to listen to adults when they say what you want to hear. That if you are unsuccessful at school, it can't possibly be your fault, or have anything to do with your parents. It must be the school's fault. But especially the teacher's fault. The long term message sent to these children is that quitting is the most effective answer to a difficult situation.

I have never been around so many young adults who have negative things to say about their teachers. In a town where competition for teaching positions is as competitive as any I've ever seen, I cannot believe that all of these teachers are truly awful. That they all took a pay cut and added classroom numbers this year because they just really hate kids. That they have some power-hungry, socialist agenda to ram down kids' throats.

I know kids in their mid-teens who have never moved, but have attended five or six different schools. Including, of course, the years of non-school that too many people call home school. The 12 teenage girls in my ward, an area of about 10 square miles, attend 3 different middle schools and five different high schools. There is no continuity in our church group, but neither is there any continuity in their neighborhoods.

When kids go to school where they live, and the teachers live in the same area, the entire community becomes invested in whether or not that school is successful. Parents and kids know what is going on with the other folks in their neighborhood because they have grown up keeping an eye on the local school, volunteering there and being involved. Neighbors know one another, because the school gives them a sense of shared purpose and involvement. The "buy-in" (A Greg Mortensen term) is less about property taxes and more about human resources--time, compassion, loyalty. When communities get attached to their local schools, they can have reasonable conversations about school board members, property tax issues and curriculum change. They see first hand how occasional tax hikes affect their community in positive ways and they know the people making decisions for the schools, and by extension, their kids. They might choose to run for this position themselves.

The article cited above is full of interesting facts, but the one I found the most telling is that a super-majority of Americans rate American education, as a whole, as being lousy and broken. However, the same super-majority (nearly 80%) gives their OWN public school a rating of A or B. Pretty damn good. You bet that inner city schools are failing regularly, but it is because inner city HOMES are failing. Even the best trained and most caring teachers in the world cannot overcome the direst circumstances for each child. It doesn't mean they won't try. Public or charter, it doesn't mean they won't try.

Without addressing the whole child failure-paradigm, we cannot fix it. Education is certainly one component, but health care issues need to be addressed, early childhood intervention, parenting, poverty, hunger. . . . kids who are falling apart before they even get a chance to meet that caring teacher in that new, beautiful school. I've looked into the eyes of 12 year-olds who, through no fault of their own, have seen enough despair and hopelessness to fill five lifetimes. There is no band aid for this problem. There is no idiot political solution that is the equivalent of "just pull yourself up by the bootstraps." The best system cited in the film--the Finnish--is also in the society Americans would term as being the most socialist. The least private. The most public. Is this ironic?

The truth is, when you run the numbers, there are just as many failing charter schools as there are public schools. Maybe more. It is also equally true that public schools can take lessons from the charter's philosophy toward smaller classes and hiring the best teachers. Abandoning one to give money to the other will only fix one school at the expense of another. And it has no hope of fixing the system as a whole.

I can promise you this: public or private or charter , your kids' teachers care. A lot. So much that they may spend time every day with your kids at the expense of spending time with their own. They work under enormously stressful conditions for pitiful pay. A mostly female workforce is constantly reminded by mostly male bosses and politicians that they signed up for a 3/4 job that is seen as barely more professional than any other public service. Besides being beholden to an employer and politicians, parents also claim some authority over teachers (what do we pay your salary FOR???). On any given day, your child's teacher is working to please a whole lot of different people, knowing that her whole job might hinge on a single mistake. The media bombards kids with images of stupid adults, particularly teachers, and parents allow them to watch such programming from an early age and then wonder why they have no respect for anybody or anything.

American kids aren't failing because of stupid teachers. They are failing because laziness and entitlement has become the norm. If you think I'm talking about inner-city kids here, think again. Nobody wants to major in engineering, because it is hard. They major in business because they want to make money. The only product we seem to manufacture in America anymore. Wait, scratch that, we manufacture plenty of cynicism also.

As I ponder taking out a loan to go back to school, so that I might have the tools to re-enter a profession I love, I am so disheartened. I grew up with such respect and admiration (read: hero worship) for the teachers who gave me so much. Once upon a time I had pretty decent grades. I might have been anything I wanted to be. I chose teaching because I'm passionate about education as a tool to overcome so many social ills. Because I believe in equality and democracy. Because I love America. And now, to be standing on the edge of the next part of my life, and hear so much invective for public school and see the competition for jobs coupled with some of the worst working situations I've ever seen for teachers, I feel that cynicsm creep inside of me also.

Caught

This morning I finished my newspaper route just before six o'clock. It was still very dark, but a perfect mid-fall morning: clear and cold. The crisp air made the stars seem even brighter, cutting straight down into me. Orion soared overhead in his winter habitat; Cassiopeia was even vividly recognizable from my childhood memories; the Big Dipper was tipped clear on its side, ladling its contents over hundreds of millions of square miles.

I was exhausted--I've been trying to get by on five hours of sleep too many days in a row--but I felt that contented sense of accomplishment that follows a job well done. Even a mundane job. I was eagerly anticipating crawling back into my warm bed and getting another hour's rest. The song on my iPod was "One" by U2, though it was the Mary J. Blige cover version. I think "One" is probably my favorite song of all time, and Ms. Blige's version beats the pants off even the sublime original.

I walked over to my car and looked up into that awesome, cold sky, held my arms aloft and let those remarkable lyrics just wash over me:

Did I ask too much?
More than a lot
You gave me nothing
Now that's all I got

We're one
But we're not the same
Will we hurt each other?
Then we do it again

You say
Love is a temple
Love a higher law
Love is a temple
Love the higher law

You ask me to enter
But then you make me crawl
And I can't be holding on
To what you got
When all you got is hurt

One love
One blood
One life
You got to do what you should

One life with each other
Sisters.
Brothers.

One life
But we're not the same
We get to carry each other
Carry each other . . . .


I was transported a billion miles away from that cold dark street and I felt like a part of the music, like a key cog in the immense functioning of the universe, a person who might make a difference with the power to help carry others. Arms still aloft, I spun around and looked skyward at all of God's glorious creation, as if I might somehow embrace it all. It was one of those moments when you are completely by yourself, and yet your connection to every living thing is so powerful that you feel like a sister to each human child and red-gold maple.

Then I heard a noise.

I stopped and looked. A man with a dog, whom I sometimes see in the morning on a different street, was walking toward me, just fifteen feet away. He glanced at me in the dark and quickly switched to the other side of the street. No doubt to get away from the crazy woman, who at least had the sense to keep her barbaric yawping to herself. All my momentary poetry turned to prose and, holding my head down, jumped in the car, missing first gear in my haste to get away.

Ten minutes later I crawled into bed, all glorious sense of possibility drained away, today feeling no more or less special and essential than yesterday or the day before. Exhaustion was more powerful than my insight into the divine.

But for a moment, just before dawn, I knew that the whole universe was possible, my potential limitless, my capacity to DO immense. You must download that song--it is the best $1.29 I've ever spent.

The Perfect Fall Treat

As it turns out, there is more than one. I

Here are a few samplings. Each of these four pairings has something in common: they each include an ingredient that says "Autumn" like nothing else.

Apples.
Pumpkin.
Tomatoes.
Hazelnuts.

This first is an apple dip that can be made up in about 5 minutes, and everywhere you go, people will want the recipe and guess and guess about the ingredients without getting it right. Jedi Knight loves this stuff so much that when I start buying lots of really crispy new apples this time of year he begins asking for it every day. Years ago, I served it at a book group and when we polished the plate of apples off in about ten minutes, Plantboy came in, and with more than a little snark he asked if we just wanted spoons. I promptly replied, "Yes," and we finished the bowl so thoroughly that you could only hear clinking. We had too much dignity in front of one another to lick the bowl, but I believe if anyone of us had been alone the story might have been very different.

Apple Dip

1. Stir or beat two soft squares of cream cheese until smooth. (There are four here--none of today's pictures are actually mine.)



2. Add half a cup of packed brown sugar, stirring until well blended. The original recipe had a lot more sugar, but I really like being able to taste the cream cheese.


3. Stir in one bag of toffee chips. You can find these at the grocery store in the baking aisle, with the other kinds of chips. Heath sells both plain:


and chocolate covered:


Unfortunately (or not) my grocery store doesn't sell the plain ones. Therefore, we are forced to put chocolate in the apple dip. Too bad.

Any firm apple with some tartness to it works great in this treat. Our favorites are Granny Smiths:



And Yellow Delicious, of which I have to buy about a dozen a week this time of year (also, I said "Granny Smiths" as a plural. Should I say "Yellow Deliciouses?"):





Now wait, don't run to the kitchen just yet. We've got a couple more.




For my book group last week I served apple dip, but I wanted something to go with it. I settled on pumpkin bread. My bread turned out exactly as it was supposed to, and I used this recipe. It was entirely adequate, but not amazing. I cannot even say what it was missing, as the recipe was nearly identical to my zucchini bread, which I love. I even added that not-so-secret pinch of cardamom and it still didn't knock my socks off.


I want a pumpkin bread recipe so great that it makes me want to buy up canned pumpkin in great quantities in the fall so that I have it stockpiled for the off season, or in times of famine. I want it to melt in my mouth and leave me a little bit speechless with joy for the explosion of autumn in my mouth. Still, it was pretty remarkable when topped with the afore-mentioned apple dip. (Face it, dog poop might even be appealing topped with that stuff.) My favorite pairing for sweet bread, however, is with soft, spreadable cheese on it, like Laughing Cow; or in a tribute to my amazing grandmother--a thick slice of cheddar. But I can't bring myself to spread it with butter first the way she does!


This next recipe is for bruschetta. Now don't go scrolling ahead thinking you know all about bruschetta. I'm pretty sure you've never had Plantboy's bruschetta.

You have to start in the spring for his bruschetta--tenaciously hitting local nurseries for odd, heirloom tomato varieties. You have to plant them at exactly the right moment. It must be early enough for them to have the season to ripen, but late enough that the last spring freeze doesn't do in your tender starts. You must also put them in exactly the right spot. They need loads of sun, but you don't want to burn their leaves either. You must water and dig about them with organic fertilizer. You must whisper sweet nothings to them each long summer day.



Okay, maybe not the last, but I swear that is what Plantboy does.

I've had a half a dozen people this year tell me that they have NO tomatoes. Nada. Zip. Our vines are so full that Plantboy has taken to freezing them while we make time to can them.

When your heirloom and red tomatoes are ready to go, then you are ready to create Bruschetta that will make you believe any course beyond appetizer is over-rated.


Plantboy's Garden Bruschetta

2 cups chopped tomatoes (use a variety of types for colors and textures. Grape tomatoes, sliced in circles, are especially lovely!)



2 Tbsp really good olive oil. Costco sells an amazing one, when you unscrew the lid, it smells like a rich combination of flowers and fruit. I always feel like such a geek when I open it and just stand there for a few seconds, transfixed by the wonder and possibility of that smell.



3 tsp balsamic vinegar--the good stuff, old and syrupy

1/2 cup chopped fresh basil (and while we are at it, we should just admit that any recipe containing the words "chopped fresh basil" is going to be awesome, and make your kitchen smell awesome. Please put this in your garden next year if you are able. Even the plainest spaghetti from a jar can pass for special if you add this crucial herb.)



3 diced shallots (we've discovered that using shallot instead of garlic still gives a wonderful, garlicky flavor without overpowering the tomatoes as much as raw garlic. And without giving you breath that could drive away any lurking vampires or eager spouses. If you like garlic, throw in a clove or two on top of the shallot, or instead of. I'm not fussy; it is YOUR food, after all.)




Fresh ground black pepper to taste (a LOT! I used to use more salt to flavor things, but the problem with using salt in plant-based dishes is that it causes the food to lose its moisture. The plant cells lose moisture to surroundings that are too salt. This causes the cell membranes to sag against plant cell walls, resulting in limpness. Even vegetables that aren't overcooked go limp if they are salted. Put the salt on the table instead of IN stir-frys, salsas, veggie side dishes, etc.)

Toss everything together and pair with french or artisan baguettes that have been drizzled with olive oil and browned in a broiler. It is just so good.



As for the last dish, you heard me correctly when I said "hazelnuts." These delicious nuts are a real Oregon favorite, and most of the hazelnuts in the world come from the filbert orchards right here in the Northwest. This one might not be quite as easy to have at your house, but I would like to point out that the offer to visit still stands.

This pairing is so awesome because besides hazelnuts,


it also includes, you guessed it, chocolate.


Hazelnut Fudge Ice Cream with Brownies

I have to admit to having no recipe for hazelnut ice cream. There are several recipes on-line, most of which include some cocoa in them, making them pale brown in color.



We bought a locally made hazelnut icecream that has swirls of fudge in it and chunks of hazelnuts. Think tin-roof-sundae-on-speed. I do, however, have a divine brownie recipe:


1 stick (1/2 cup) butter

1/2 cup cocoa

1 cup sugar

2 eggs (room temperature)

1 tsp vanilla

1/2 cup all purpose flour

1/4 tsp. salt

1/2 cup chocolate chips or nuts (or both!)

Preheat oven 350 degrees, Grease an 8 inch square pan. In a microwave-safe bowl, melt butter. Add cocoa and stir until blended. Add sugar and mix well. Add eggs, one at a time, and beat well. Stir in vanilla, flour and salt, stirring until just blended. Fold in nuts and/or chips. Spread in prepared pan and bake 25 to 30 minutes until a toothpick comes out clean. Don't worry, they'll still be very soft!




Oh, good grief, I'm hungry.

We'd Like to Interupt the Regularly Scheduled Programming

Plantboy is out of town.

That is why I'm blogging at 11:15.

It is probably why we've been eating chicken nuggets from paper plates for two days. It is why there is so much stuff on my bed that I might be sleeping on the couch, and going to bed way too late. It is certainly why I stayed up last night watching chick flicks and sipping hot cocoa.

And it might be why I dyed my hair. After all, the grow out line wasn't that dramatic.

Dying it as dark as I did is the fault of "A Room With a View." I was too engrossed to jump up and rinse right at 25 minutes. It might have been 35 minutes before I pulled myself away from Lucy and George and Italy.

Or 40 minutes. Yes, of course I have a pause button.

The point is that I've gone dark in the winter time the last few years and I really like it. After a few washes it will fade to a color people (including myself) are more familiar with. Seeing as how I've been blond since July, however, today's contrast is very stark.

Still, it was a bit harsh to run into a friendish sort of a person tonight who exclaimed, "Oh my GOSH!!! What have you done to your hair???" She is also much taller than me, so when she patted my hair I felt especially stupid. She followed her first remark with this gem, "I loved your pretty blond, what were you thinking?" I wanted to tell her EXACTLY what I was thinking. And a big part of me really wants to tell you too. But I won't. I think I'll just go lather, rinse and repeat.

I miss Plantboy . . . .

Public School As Socialism

The Republicans are making it really difficult for me to vote as an independent this year.

Did you think we'd make it all the way to this midterm election without any political commentary from this quarter? I thought so; after all, I've said a lot (too much) before. By this time in 2008, I'd probably written 10 different posts that were tagged with the label "politics." My remarks today will be specifically about the Tea Party movement. Start your engines.

I'd like to first point out that for whatever disagreements I might have with the political motivation behind the Tea Party, there are things I love about it. It is a true grass roots organization, a real "of the people" situation. It is a wonderful example of America's great, democratic experiment. Its popularity has forced the major political parties to ask itself some hard questions. My understanding is that those affiliated with the movement aren't interested so much in becoming a political party, as an ideology--as a group who will fundamentally change the way Americans think about government. This is very interesting. People associated with the movement aren't shy about their disagreements on a variety of issues, their main commonality being a firm belief in a more limited government. This disharmony is something not tolerated very well in the mainstream parties. I've lamented before that the current system makes it very difficult for someone to be, say, a pro-life Democrat or an environmentalist Republican. Such questions are almost irrelevant to a Tea Party candidate--they don't think the government has any business regulating our personal lives or the environment.

Have I been complimentary enough? Good. Now for my other opinions.

* I deeply resent the take-our-country-back rhetoric I hear. Take it back from WHOM? People with different opinions? Minorities (who are noticeably absent in the TP)? Particularly Blacks who turned out in record numbers at the last election? The majority who voted for President Obama and other Democrats? This type of language is volatile. When coupled with the fact that another major area of agreement among Tea Party types is the right to bear arms, I just find that a little bit scary. Even if there is a landslide Republican victory in November, all of those people from which the country was taken back will also need to be governed. Their rights protected. Their voices heard. Even when we disagree. Especially when we disagree. That is the whole point of United States.

* Our country has to be governed as it is. Lamenting about how much they wish it was like 1790 is completely useless. I once worked at a school where the principal said, "We have to work with the kids we have, not the ones we wish we had." He did not mean that we shouldn't have a vision and goals for our kids . . . what he meant was that it was a waste of time and energy to grump around the faculty room complaining that our kids came to school so under-prepared. We just needed to roll up our sleeves and do all we could to get them ready for the next part of life and school. My metaphor is that a politician cannot be elected on a platform of returning the government to the pre-Depression status quo. Is it possible for politicians to reign in spending? I certainly hope so. But ultimately, most people would see it an enormous step backward to abolish the EPA (along with our clean water and air), the FDA (along with our safe food supply), Medicare (along with the ability to retire after a long working life), the National Park Service (and all of those maintained trails built by the CCC during the Depression), etc. etc.

*The Tea Party argues that people have become too dependent on government and that government is trying too hard to "big brother" us. That this government intervention is the thing that led our country to financial meltdown. (Though most economists and analysts claim that it was a LACK of regulation on the banking industry that was at the root of the problem. The Tea Party folks say that people need to act more moral. Well, they do, but when billions of dollars and millions of shareholders are thrown into the mix, ethics take a back seat to profits. You can take that to the bank.) And yet, the intense anger exhibited by so many of the people you see at the rallies is just another form of blame toward the government.

*The party wasn't really started (if such a nebulous group can be said to have a beginning) by somebody intending to run for office. Candidates have emerged over the last several months, many of whom have won primaries, even. This party was really started by pundits: people who make their money from expressing controversial opinions. The more controversial the opinions, the more viewers/readers/listeners they garner. And the more money they make. The profit machine at the top of this party will cease to function if the leaders move toward more moderate, conciliatory opinions. In short, these candidates, if elected, CAN NOT compromise when they go to Washington or they can't afford to run in another election. Politics, by definition, is the art of compromise. What possible good can these folks do with no other platform than to STOP the government? Maybe that is the point--they don't have a chance of completely reversing anything, and won't agree to any kind of watered down legislation, so I think we can expect to see two years of completely impotent government. And that always leads to re-election. (Snark.)

* Glenn Beck's recent rally carried a heavy emphasis on religion, encouraging Americans to turn back to God. That statement should be up above under things I like. Americans, in general, could do with a healthy commitment to Judeo-Christian values. In word AND deed. However, his going back to the Puritans (to be consistent with the Founding Fathers theme, I suppose) as models of religious citizenry disturbed me more than a little. Did anyone read The Scarlet Letter? The Crucible? As necessary as the Puritans were to the founding of our country--the fleeing for religious freedom and that tradition making its way into the Constitution--these were not a very nice group of people. They burned "witches." They put people in the stocks. They banished people who couldn't keep to their very rigid view of the commandments. Their religious leaders were also the magistrates. Their law was based primarily on their narrow interpretation of the Bible. Women were deeply repressed in that society; those who tried to speak out were often seen as fallen or practitioners of witchcraft. Is all of this sounding a bit Taliban? Yeah, that is what I thought. Is this actually the rallying cry of one of the leaders of this movement?

* Of course, Glenn Beck's ideas seem downright temperate when you compare them to Newt Gingrich's latest theory: Obama is an African Muslim who sought to become president in order to take down the entire American system. Really.

* If any person reading here, who is in favor of the Tea Party movement, can give me a reasonable, comprehensive list as to how the government has somehow curtailed your freedoms, please let me know. This is also common rhetoric from the party, that we are somehow not free. If you are unemployed, I'm especially sorry about that. However, I'm not certain that in most cases the government can be directly responsible for it, unless you had a government job that was cut. If that is the case, though, the Tea Party's goal would be to cut a majority of government jobs.

I'd like to point out that I haven't criticized any one person directly, just their ideas. I'm working very hard to keep within my no-name-calling parameters I wrote about last year when talking about civility in public discourse.

My last discussion point will seriously try my resolve.

My choices for Congress this year are very extreme. The Democrat I haven't been crazy about is trying to brag right now in his ads about breaking with the party when it came to health care and the bailout. Trying to appeal to independents, I suppose. However, what he doesn't say is that he broke with his party because he favored a more nationalized form of health care, and he didn't think the bailouts* were large enough. The man he is running against calls himself the "independent" choice. To me, independent candidates are stylized by their varied and balanced stances between the two parties, candidates who vote on issues instead of down party lines, and those who seek compromise.

Truthfully, however, Independent really just means that they don't affiliate with any particular party, so you can get any number of opinions from such a candidate. When I received the literature on this candidate, I was intrigued. He has a PhD in biochemistry. He styles himself as an "educator" in his material. He has worked outside the political establishment. I have often thought we needed more scientists, teachers, and "regular" folks to run for office. So far, so good.

Then I read further.

The candidate believes that America has been on a slow decline since the 1950's. (Let's not forget that since the 50's, Americans have been able to receive insurance and therefore medical care through the collective bargaining of unions and companies; there was a civil rights movement which expanded rights for women piggybacked; the voting age was lowered and America led a world wide technological revolution.) He maintains that we are now in the midst of an immoral, socialist regime under which we have few freedoms. He is a leader among the anti-global warming crowd, comprising less than 5% of the scientific establishment in this country. He criticizes most forms of alternative energy. His petition was an attempt to prevent Congress from passing laws regulating energy production. He is deeply opposed to any government intervention or regulation in anything to do with farming or forestry. He wants to send ALL illegal immigrants back to their country of origin without regard to how long they have been here or how they have contributed. He maintains that people will act with integrity and charity if the government would just get out of their lives. He calls for a repeal of socialized medicine. He calls this "Obamacare." It is interesting really, considering that we don't actually have socialized medicine in this country. Even under the new law.

But the jewel in his crown is his attitude toward public education. He says that the public schools have more than enough money, but a deeper dig indicates that he has a home schooling curriculum he sells because he really believes that public schools should be "abolished," that they are taxpayer-funded socialism, and school is government-sponsored child abuse. (I am not sure if I can recommend the home schooling course; his web page has a shocking number of grammatical and/or spelling mistakes. Including the word independ"a"nt.)

On the upside, there are things I like about him too. He is pro-nuclear energy, though he blames the government almost entirely for Americans choosing to not tap this resource. (Any official who tries to support this is immediately voted out of office, and even pro-nuclear Americans would probably say "not-in-my-backyard." We need more education, not less regulation of a potentially dangerous resource.) He raised a large family to be science-minded: his kids are all in science-related schooling/careers. He seems to be a man of integrity and intelligence. His official line on public education has a couple of helpful things--more local control and fewer administrators with less pay.

The thing is, I have no doubt that this candidate might be very appealing to some people. That is great. Go out and vote! But my husband is a public employee who works to conserve water and maintain its integrity. I am also a public employee. Most of our retirement money right now is in the state retirement system. I'm an educator and environmentalist. How can I support a candidate who honestly thinks my goal for becoming a teacher was to indoctrinate children with subversive political philosophy? Doesn't this border on a conspiracy-theory approach to reality?

On the other hand, my (barely) preferred candidate has a counter on his website called "The National Debt Clock," that runs continuously counting up and up and up. The speed at which is counts is seizure-inducing, and the 13 trillion and a whole lotta change nearly gave me a heart attack. And yet, he continues to vote WAY left of center.

Is this what our attack-style politics have created? The pundits have engineered an America where only the most extreme opinions get any traction. Where the angriest among us will make the decisions? Where the most extreme will argue themselves to a standstill? Maybe it is from the pundits we should take America back!



* A note on TARP: my paper reported last week that a vast number of economists are in agreement about its effectiveness in halting the recession, and that it won't cost as much money as anticipated. Jobs are always the last thing to recover, and the recession cannot actually reverse until those numbers are down. It should be noted that it took nearly 20 years, a major world war, rationing, and astronomically high taxes to reverse the Great Depression: the economic disaster this housing bubble most closely recognizes. I'm sorry; these facts don't read like government failure to me.