Archive for November 2009

Cake Casuistry and Sarah Palin

November 17, 2009

Eaten Cake Too

“Can’t have your cake and eat it too.”

For much of my life, I did not understand what that expression meant.  Oh, I understood its general import; I heard my grandmother sigh it with a sorry shake of her head often enough.

But I couldn’t understand how it actually worked.   Didn’t you have to have your cake in order to eat it?

Even when I finally did get the literal meaning of the words, (“have” as in “continuing to have”, “eat” as in, you know–), I still resisted their logic.  Why couldn’t you save half the cake and eat the other half?  Even if you did eat the whole piece, didn’t you still have it –in your stomach?  At least for a while?

Ultimately, I think my problem was not so much with the expression’s words as with its meaning, especially its meaning for women of my generation.   There were just so many cakes that we wanted to have and eat too—an engaging career and time to attentively raise children; a good paycheck and creative, non-corporate work; a husband who worked and was available to his family; a daily blog and adequate sleep–

So many secret little nibbles of cake, so many secret little hoardings of crumbs, so very many empty or half-empty mouthfuls.

The parceling out of cake, even talking about parceling it out, was simply very hard for some of us;  it continues to be hard for many younger women too.   (Many women, for example, still feel the burden of keeping quiet about a sick child, an aging parent, a wayward husband, simply to protect perceptions of their job performance.  Others find that the job performance problems created by these factors aren’t limited to perception—such non-work matters demand their energy, time, and decision-making on a dailybasis.)

The genuine complexity of these issues is, I think, one reason why some women find Sarah Palin so troublesome.  Although Palin has clearly had her own difficulties with choices of this kind, she glosses these over, trying to have her cake and eat it too in the very same (somewhat disjointed) sentence.

She purports, for example, to be both attentive mom of five and also hands-on executive, lover of the wild but also driller, generous-spirited but also vindictive enough to ward off challenge, winking Josephine Six-pack but also policy “wonk”, perky but contemptuous of the perky, Alaskan hunter of moose and nationwide hunter of bucks, quitter but also stay-the-courser, insulting, reductive and libelous, but quick to find insult, reduction and libel in others, a self-declared claimant of down-to-earth clarity who obfuscates and confuses.

As my family will groaningly testify, I have sometimes expressed a surprising sympathy for Palin (even when cringing on the opposite side of the fence.)   I don’t like to see any woman ridiculed; I understand how difficult it is for a woman to carve out an individual or powerful style in our culture.  But her glibness has lately introduced so many  quoted untruths into common parlance that it is hard for me to retain much sympathy;  these have not only lowered the debate but significantly damaged it, and, when added to Palin’s  pursuit of earnings in the millions, have lately brought another “cake” phrase to mind.  Not the old saying of my grandmother’s, but the, perhaps, older one of Marie Antoinette: “Let them eat….”

Apology for Etiquette Failure

November 17, 2009

OMG!  Between the push of those who correct me on the street and the pull of popular culture, I completely failed the etiquette test, meaning I mispelled it on my post re the brusqueness of etiquette enforcers:  https://manicddaily.wordpress.com/2009/11/16/politeness-rules-the-brusqueness-of-ettiquette-enforcers

Where were the spelling police?   Why doesn’t spell-check work on titles on blogs?  Or if it does, why didn’t it buzz loudly?

 Sorry sorry sorry.   Too manic, too d, too daily.

Kristen on Conan

November 17, 2009

Not Quite Kristen Stewart

Kristen Stewart appeared on late night television last night in the guise of a very nervous, earnest, and extremely young girl (okay, woman), who totally wants people to like her, but not (a) weirdly, nor (b) with expectations she can’t possibly fulfill.    These perfectly reasonable wishes could, unfortunately, disqualify a certain percentage of her fans, especially those who have tattooed her image on their bodies.  (Hopefully, their tattoo artists are better than me.)

Politeness Rules. The Brusqueness of Etiquette Enforcers.

November 16, 2009

We’ve all heard it—a misunderstood or misheard “excuse me” transmuting into an indignant “you’re welcome.”  What this kind of “you’re welcome” usually means is that the you, who, in fact, is not welcome, has somehow dropped the ball. You failed to thank, take the requested step to the side, or most importantly, prostrate yourself at the foot of your self-excuser.  And that same self-excuser has now turned into a you-accuser,  while you have shifted from person who’s owed civility to person who deserves rebuff; a person, in other words, who’s on the absolute wrong end of the politeness stick.

How dare you, you?

Maybe I should say ‘how dare I?’  Because I worry that I run into this sort of treatment more than most.  Perhaps I go about the street in a fog.  (Since I sometimes write this blog while I walk, I suspect this may be so.)  Despite my general will towards politeness, my great propensity towards the words “sir” and “ma’am” and “please” and “thank you,” I probably do miss verbal cues.

The whole experience, which always results from some completely inadvertent error on my part, makes me feel terrible–the “excuse ME,” the “thank YOU,” the “YOU’RE welcome” truly distress me.  (Somehow, people who are trying to force politeness seem to emphasize pronouns.)

Aside from my personal discomfort, I also feel upset on behalf of society. (I’m getting my own back now!)  Because the sudden brusqueness of the oh-so-polite really does seem to lower, rather than raise, the level of civility in the culture:  two rudes simply don’t make a polite, as the etiquette experts, including George Washington, conclude in Douglas Quenqua’s November 13 New York Times article “As the Rudes Get Ruder, the Scolds Get Scoldier.”

My point is that if you believe in politeness, then be truly, consistently, polite.  Don’t take turns at it, meting it out, retracting it, converting it into an opportunity for aggression.   Be like the proverbial queen, almost any true queen (this is a true pea-beneath-the-mattress-test), who, when entertaining a guest who drinks from the fingerbowl, promptly gulps hers down as well.

You do that, and I’ll watch my step while I blog.

Proposed 9/11 Trial in Downtown Manhattan

November 16, 2009

I live in downtown Manhattan, all too close to Ground Zero.  I did not live quite as close on September 11, 2001, but close enough.  I saw the second plane hit, ran down the blocks from my apartment to the site.  I remember trying to moisten towels before I headed down there with some idea that these would be useful for breathing through smoke and dust, but the water pressure was so low, and the emotional pressure so high, that I can’t be sure if I actually either wet the towels, or carried them.   For weeks and months afterwards, the smoke and smell of the extinguished towers hung over our daily lives; for years afterwards, it’s caused great sadness.

It’s also instilled a fear of further terrorism.   It is difficult for me, for example, to leave family members in Manhattan if I need to travel elsewhere.   Many who live in this neighborhood hate the fireworks over the Hudson River,  summer nights.   I don’t mind the fireworks but I freely confess that I may not be able to continue living here once the “Freedom Tower” actually goes up.

As an already terrorized New Yorker,  I am fearful of any activity that makes downtown Manhattan a greater target.  We have already been through the trial of 9/11 itself down here.  But my stronger, and perhaps overly-idealistic, feeling is that  you have to at least try to live your beliefs, both on a personal and national level.  If you tout your legal system, then you have to trust it.  If the whole conflict is about what the U.S. stands for (other than materialism), then we have to actually stand for those things, things like trials.

Even as I wish it weren’t all going to take place just a few blocks away.

Sunday Afternoon

November 15, 2009
Sunday Afternoon Tea Dance

Sunday Afternoon Tea Dance (With Elephants)

All rights reserved.  Karin Gustafson.

 

If you like elephants with watercolors, check out 1 Mississippi by Karin Gustafson on Amazon, or at link from ManicDDaily home page.

 

Surefire Dog-Training Tips From the Dog Mumbler

November 14, 2009

Well-trained dog. (It helps that she's old.)

As some of you may know, my family has a very highly trained dog.  This is amazing to me, especially given the fact that we have watched only a couple of short clips of Cesar Millan’s wonderful show, the Dog Whisperer.  As a result, virtually all of our dog’s training has been undertaken pursuant to our own individualized methods.

Here are some of the commands which I have found to be most successful:

1.  Lie Down!  (Works best when dog is already in prone position.)

2.  Stay!  (Ideally follows “Lie Down!”command above.)

3.  Roll Over!  (This should be combined with a hand gesture indicating that you are about to rub dog’s tummy.)

4.  Stretch!

5.  Yawn!

6.   Close eyes!  (Slowly, slowly, slowly….  Ah….)

7.  Doze!  (Sometimes this command is mistaken for the command “Laze!”  as many dogs, through no fault of their owners, have a difficult time distinguishing the different vowel sounds.)

With proper training, the above tricks can be performed by most dogs at any time of day.   Amazingly, some dogs will even adapt awkward, oversized, props for use in performing such tricks  (for example, a queen-sized bed.)

The commands set forth below are best given at mealtimes.  With the proper incentives (cheese works well), most dogs will soon learn to  respond even before the command is uttered:

1.  Beg!

2.  Whine!

3.  Whimper!

4.  Gobble!

5.  Yes, yes, lick your cute little doggy chops!

6.  Again!

Try any of the above commands, and, if you get the timing right, you’ll be amazed at how obedient even the most wayward dog can be, canine putty in your tummy-rubbing hands.

Lie Down!

Lie Down!

(Sorry–this is reposting of an earlier drawing since I’m away from my normal technical devices this weekend.  Have a nice weekend!)

If you like elephants as well as dogs, check out 1 Mississippi by Karin Gustafson at Amazon.com or at link from ManicDDaily home page.

What To Do When RPatz Just Doesn’t Cut It Anymore–(I’m Not Talking About His Hair.)

November 13, 2009

What to do when the fascination for Robert Pattinson finally runs dry?

Maybe it’s the conclusive evidence of handholding.  (See Robsten photograph, November 10th or so, Le Bourget, France.)

Or maybe the realization that he really is just a young, charmingly goofy but nonetheless, movie star.

Or the news that he wears hair extensions for parts of the new movie.

Or all the Veterans Day celebrations, the tragedy at Fort Hood, the seemingly irresolvable situations in Iraq and Afghanistan, the endlessly debated and diluted health care bill, the continuing rise in joblessness, and its concomitant psychological, physical, economic toll (the fact that these are real people’s lives).

Whatever.  Somehow you’re just not so interested anymore.  You haven’t even glanced, walking by, at the Vanity Fair cover.  (Okay, maybe you’ve glanced,)

Even re-reading a Twilight book provides no more escapist zing. (Ho-hum, there’s Edward again being handsome, sweet, overbearingly controlling.)

Fine.  But the problem is what do you do now? With all those spare moments of restlessness, disgruntlement, intermittent despair, which, for the last few months, have been pleasantly occupied by dark smoldering eyes tortured by paparazzi?

1.  Take up computer bridge.  Or better yet, poker.  Even better, scotch.

2.  Sleep.  (This five hours a day business seems to be showing on you.)

3.  Blog at least twice rather than once a day.  (No.)

4.  Finally read Marcel Proust’s The Remembrance of Things Past.

5.  Clean out your closet.  (Yes, your dog likes to make a little bed among the rumpled piles, still, there may be some good clothes down there.)

6.  (Do I have to?)

7.  Actually read the details of foreign policy decisions.  And the health care proposals. And the initiatives to create jobs.

8.  (Are you serious?)

9.  Go see the new movie, New Moon, as soon as possible.

10. It opens only one week from today!

Aha!  A plan!

Crazy Day Nights, Bed Tea

November 12, 2009

Crazy days, no nights.  Yes, the sun sets.  Quite early, in fact.  But you know those weeks when, even after darkness falls (which, okay, never completely happens in the City), and all the lights are off in your apartment (except for the little green and red ones in the various cable boxes), and the down blanket is tucked softly around your shoulder (unless it suddenly feels too hot), and your sleeping socks are comfortably on feet that would otherwise be too cold or too dry to relax (yes, it would be better if one was not a footie while the other a knee sock)– but you know what I mean–those hours when you should sleep but your mind still churns through numbers, conversations, projected conversations, or worse, if you do drift off briefly, images of the back of a computer, torn open so that wires and tubes protrude, the same wires and tubes that hold the only copies of your most dear and precious files.

My husband dreams of things like flying; Mao Tse Tung floating down the Yangtze in an inner tube; himself, naked, except for a pickaxe slung across his back, scaling the wall of a garden party where all other males are strapped into spats and morning coats.  As a result, perhaps, he is always promoting the virtue of many hours of sleep, or, at least, the prescribed eight.

He doesn’t understand that this prescription is not appealing to those who dream, if at all, about the backs of their laptops torn open.

I, on the other hand, am a great believer in sitting in bed for long periods,  propped up by pillows, awake, but feeling both mindless and blissfully guilt-free because (a) it’s either too early or too late for the overdrive to control; (b) I really am pretty tired after all the nights of torn-open computer backs; and (c) that mindless part I mentioned earlier in this sentence.   All the while drinking bed tea, which, for these purposes, I will define as virtually any steaming hot beverage, preferably with a bit of milk in it; and happily reading, re-reading, re-re-reading, or, in the last few months, blogging (haha!),  writing to anyone else out there who also craves some slightly mindless rest.

I wish I could pour you a cuppa….

Ah….

Veterans Day, 2009

November 11, 2009

Veteran’s Day, 2009

My father has always worn
black, army-issue, shoes,
whose toes turn up within
a few days of purchase,
something from the war,
too much forced march.

Today makes me think
of loads of turned-up toes,
curling beneath green fields,
or stock stiff still
in a sprawl of mud and camo.

My nephew talks of joining
up, practices for the test.
I don’t know what to say–
sure, if you don’t get hurt,
and no one around you either,
not even those at whom you aim
your gun.

I don’t say that.
I know people do it, maybe have to,
even my gentle father, balding
at seventeen, who marched once
twenty miles before breakfast,
shaving out of a cup at 6, and then, at Pilsen,
was issued a beer with a raw egg in it;
the man next to him, either
shaving or drinking beer, got hit, right
next to him.  And the egg, he said,
they just drank down.

All rights reserved, Karin Gustafson, 2009.

For more poems, especially villanelles about soldiers, check out posts in poetry or villanelle categories from ManicDDaily home page.