Welcome February

Eduardo still isn't home. He comes back from the Dominican Republic on Tuesday. It's been fine mostly and I like knowing that I would make it on my own, if I needed to (albeit with lots of help from my family).

But the past week has been hard. I had a stressful week at work and Johan has been sick. I miss Eduardo's presence at home; I miss him counterbalancing my neurotic worrying and stewing with calm reassurance when I've had a bad day at work; and I miss having someone to help me and give me a break when Johan is fussy and doesn't feel well.

Just 3 more days.

The Latest Craze

Actually, I'm pretty sure the craze is over for most, as this isn't a new thing, but I have just recently discovered Eat This, Not That. There's a book, a website, and weekly e-mails. I am always striving to choose healthy foods, but am not so interested in a diet composed of only raw vegetables and boiled chicken. Part of the problem in my quest to choose healthy is my love for creamy delicious things. Cheese, cottage cheese, ice cream etc.

Here's why I like the Eat This, Not That: it doesn't tell you to quit eating butter and replace it with a carrot. It tells you to replace it with whipped butter. Surely, we all now know the dangers of margarine and its secret transfats. And, while, I love butter on my toast, I'd like to not eat that much saturated fat (read: I'd like to save some of the saturated fat I'm bound to consume for times in the day.) Whipped butter is brilliant- it doesn't have any added or extra ingredients. It just has air whipped into it to give it fewer calories and less fat per teaspoon. Brilliant. Edy's slow churned ice cream follows the same concept- air whipped into the ice cream to reduce fat without reducing flava.

Now, if there was only an Eat This, Not That answer for taquitos...

New Post; New World

I don't have any words or poetry that can compare with the words and images that encompassed this day of days. THIS DAY. So, I won't try. But, I want to say 2 things about it:

1) I love today for Johan. By the time he is in pre-school, he will know who the President is. And celebrate. And support. And will study history of Selma Alabama and it will not be his reality.

2) I love today for myself. Apart from being J's mom, I am ME. I am a person who has spent countless hours in campaign against GWB and all that he stands for. Today is the ultimate victory. I think about my dear friends from Occidental (most especially Michelle and Tucker) and all of our political battles: against Bush; against homophobia; against racism; against injustice. So much disappointment in our campaigns and struggles. Tonight makes up for all of it. It really does. And makes it all worth it, too.

This Land is Your Land (and Johan's Land)

Can't have my last post before tomorrow's BIG inauguration be angry, so here's something from yesterday that was wonderful. Johan and I enjoyed the We Are One concert from the comfort of the basement. We danced the whole time. This was one of Johan's favorites (it's always been one of mine).

Ever appropriate for MLK Day and the wonder, hope and joy that will be tomorrow. Tonight we go to sleep full of anticipation and celebration.

Check it out.

Chicken with a Side of Bigot

I normally try to intersperse witty commentary, Johan updates, and other miscellaneous musings between my rants, but this simply couldn't wait.

Johan and I are just back from a family dinner (mom's side)that I find outrageous to describe. There were 2 distinct happenings that filled me with rage.

First, during dinner, Johan was really digging the rice dish. He was on his second helping when my grandma goes "Before you know it you're going to be slant-eyed." After nearly choking on my red wine, I said "Well, that's pretty racist. We're planning to raise Johan to not make stereotypical and insulting comments about people of other ethnicities." My grandma ignored me and changed the subject. No one else said anything about it. I feel pretty strongly about not just "letting it slide," especially in front of Johan. I want him to be a person who has the courage to speak out against injustice, and the only way to do that is by example. If I just ignore comments like that, he will learn to do the same, and silence and passivity in the face of racism are not acceptable to me.

Second, when we were getting ready to leave, my mom says "Johan, are you going to give grandpa a kiss?" Johan shook his head no, and my step dad says "Yeah, he's not gay." This situation is even more disturbing to me than the slant-eye remark for a couple reasons. First, I expect more from my step dad as he is not senile and he ought to know better. Second, the remark is not only homophobic, it also seeks to force Johan into a gender-stereotype that boys are not or should not be affectionate. Essentially, it spits directly in the eye of 2 values I am trying to instill in Johan: 1) that homophobia is not acceptable and 2) that it is good and right for boys and men to be emotionally aware and affectionate. I immediately said to Johan that we love all types of people, gay or otherwise, and that it is ok for family to kiss each other, if they want, regardless if they are girls or boys.

So, we are home now and listening to some "Free to Be You and Me" and have read "Whoever You Are, Where ever You Are." A quick effort to undo the nasty words that fell upon his ears tonight.

On a deeper level than my initial revulsion to these 2 comments, I am angry because I should be able to go to a family dinner and not have my 1-year-old exposed to hate speech. There are enough forces in this world that will aim to instill contrary values in Johan that I do not control- I can't keep him from TV and internet and idiots out in the big wide world. On top of all those things, I don't need people in my own family carelessly and stupidly counteracting the values Eduardo and I want to instill in Johan.

And, I don't think I'm overreacting to respond immediately when it happens. Just changing the subject is not an option-- I want Johan to know that he has a right and duty to make any efforts he can to fight bigotry. So, you've had fair warning. Make bigoted comments in front of my child, and you're going to get an earful from me, even if it means ruining dinner.

Any suggestions for how best to deal with situations like these?

PS. It should also be noted that one of Eduardo's brothers used the word "maricon" (Spanish for faggot) in front of Johan while we were in the DR, and I also ackwardly called him out on that.

Some Saturday Morning Bitching

Here are a few unrelated tidbits that have irritated me this week.

- If you go to Target and buy the very cheapest remote control possible, is it unreasonable to think that it will take AA batteries? Cheap people do not keep AAA batteries around the house. It took a whole other trip to Target to get AAA batteries to program said cheap remote. At the very least, the box of the remote could have indicated that it required AAA batteries.

- My neighbor insists on shoveling her back stairs (approximately 6 feet from Johan's bedroom) with a loud metal shovel at 11pm. Thanks, neighbor. I'm about to call the noise police on you.

- Yesterday I had a mediation for a work comp case. I am normally a big fan of mediation in civil cases, but this was my first in work comp. The work comp bar is a very small group of attorneys and we all have a very cordial relationship with each other. Opposing counsel on this particular case is a really nice woman and we have settled numerous cases with one another, very amicably. I get to the mediation, and immediately realize that the mediator is a total bitch. She clearly thinks all injured people are liars and fakers and completely discounts every argument we have and every strong fact about our case. Despite her lack of neutrality, we managed to get within a few thousand dollars of each other. I had to leave at 12:30 for another hearing, and the mediator basically threatened me to take the offer or else: "You know, this offer is not going to stay on the table. You don't settle today and you may be hard pressed to settle later." It was all I could do to avoid punching her mullet. I just nodded and said, "Well, I have worked with ____ _____ before, and I'm sure we'll be able to find some common ground." By the time I got back to my office, the opposing counsel had e-mailed me suggesting that we split the difference between my last demand and her last offer. Go figure. And, go to hell, stupid mediator.

That's all for now. Thanks for listening.

Cold

It's cold. Yes, everyone knows it. It's Minnesota in January; what do you expect? Midwesterners love to talk about the weather in its glory and its...guts? You know, when it's cold out, just like guts? Anyhoo, yes, we talk about the weather. But, aside from Chicago, cities in the Midwest are car cities. Everyone drives. Very few people are outside waiting for trains or buses. So, while today was like -20 or something (to tell you the truth, I haven't really been following the actual temperatures), I spent a grand total of probably 10 minutes outside the entire day. And, at least 5 of those minutes were walking to and from a bar...so, not really required outdoor time. The point is, what's the big deal? It's just a few days of really cold days--you warm your car up for a few minutes more before driving; you turn the thermostat up a couple degrees; you eat soup for dinner. By Monday it will be above freezing, they say. And the beat goes on.

Cry, Cry, Cry, Laugh

I am letting Johan cry it out tonight, determined to have him trained to crib sleeping at night by the time Eduardo gets home from the DR. I am helped along by 1) bota box red wine; 2) a nice long convo with Moira; and 3) facebook.

But, this put me over the top. I indulged in one of those weird creepy blogs of retro domestic type wives and this one woman wrote about how much she likes brown rice. And I think, yes, brown rice is great. Then she gives her "recipe."

Brown Rice

1 cup white rice, uncooked
1 can of beef broth
1 can of beef consomme
1 package of Lipton's dry onion soup mix


So, wait, it's really white rice with MSG, not brown rice. Riiight. I wonder if she knows that brown rice is actually a thing. Its own grain even without Lipton's.

On a less intense note...

I have also been feeling like I'm in a food rut- I know what I like and then tend to choose the same kinds of foods and same combinations of foods over and over again. But, I've decided 2009 is going to be different.

Last week I cooked with sweet potatoes for the first time- just baked and then mashed with soy milk, cinnamon, and sugar. Turned out well, and I think I will start experimenting more with them.

Then, last night I had dinner at Thomas's house. Thomas is a hunter and he cooked up numerous different cuts of venison. I enjoy meat but my carnivorous repertoire is pretty limited- I had never eaten wild game. I've never even eaten duck. The venison was good; lean and tender. Of course, Thomas served it with a sauce of brandy, cream, onions, and mushrooms, so there's nothing not to like.

Anyway, I am going to try to try a new food each week during 2009. Any suggestions?

Now?

Only 10 days until Obama is President. So much hope.

Yet, since I have been back from the DR, I find myself thinking about Sep. 11, 2001 quite a lot.

I think it is because I was living in Santo Domingo when it happened. That is where I lived it. Watching satellite TV from my internship at the UN- standing next to our IT guy who smugly proclaimed that we all had it coming. Hearing the arguments between the Western Europeans and the Eastern Europeans about whether it was deserved. Hearing false reports of the Sears Tower getting hit and figuring it was only a matter of moments until a plane reached the Mall of America. Trying to use my Dominican cell phone to get through to my parents-- to tell my mom to get home because her office was right by the Mall; to tell my dad that David should go home from school just in case. Hearing the Dominican radio commentators accuse the Japanese (retribution for WWII, obvio). Watching the towers fall and seeing the Texan woman who worked in my office fall to the ground like an ante-bellum lady fainting. The UN offices closed after the towers fell, and many of us went to the Conde Cafe in Santo Domingo, which is set directly across a plaza from the Catedral. The first church in the New World, so they say. I went there that day and got on my knees and cried. It was the only time I went to church while I lived in Santo Domingo. It was the only time in my life that I have actually begged "G-d" for mercy.

Before it happened, I had already planned to meet my Dad in Miami for a weekend toward the end of September. Many flights were cancelled during that time, but I managed to secure a flight to get there. I feel like I was a different person during those days in Miami. When I first arrived at the Miami airport, the immigration officer stamped my passport and said "Welcome home" and I started bawling. I remember watching some TV program/concert to raise money for victims and being unable to turn away from it. I remember eating lobster ravioli with my dad. At my request, my Dad and I both went to a Miami hospital and donated blood. Such a strange strange time.

I think that being in Santo Domingo and re-visiting many of the places I frequented during that epoch have made me reflective. I guess it's like how all of our parents remember exactly where they were when Kennedy was shot. Those snapshot memories of capital letter days don't fade, but sometimes they are brought into brighter focus by revisiting the places where one watched the world change.

It's been a long 8 years. I believe in Obama. I believe in this country of ours for believing in Obama.

Check it out...

My great ol' dad has a blog. I bet lots of comments will encourage him to stick with it. Check it out at www.radionorskie.blogspot.com. The link is also to the right. Go, dad, go.

Full Circle

I guess you could say I've always had a thing for striking black women.

Today I met with a new client in her home. She looked like a darker-skinned Erykah Badu. Her hair was wrapped in a beautiful cloth; she was graceful with long hands; had large and wide-set eyes; nice teeth with the perfect sized gap between the top front ones; and wore linen clothes. Her home smelled of incense and was decorated with African art. When she opened the door for me, she said "wow, you're pretty." I was speechless, finally mustering a "that's so nice, thank you."
Later, when she was signing her paperwork, I noticed that you could tell by her signature that she is an artist (which she is).

When I left, I thought of my first day of Montessori school. The girl sitting next to me during music time was bigger than me. She had this amazing, full head of poofy black hair. It was almost an Afro. During music class, I couldn't resist and I buried my face in her hair. The teacher scolded me and it was my first lesson in boundaries.

Don't worry, I didn't do that today. It wouldn't have been professional.

Learning in the Old Year

There are lots of good stories from the DR that could be told in some detail if I weren't so tired. If you are *lucky* (LUCKY, I say!), you may get those details over the weekend. For now, here are some things I learned during our travels.

* Johan loves tea made from oregano and anise. This was his grandma's remedio for his intestinal ailments, and I'm not totally convinced it cured him, but it made him happy and kept him hydrated.

* Johan might be a campesino. He loved chasing chickens and petting roosters and riding donkeys.

* Eduardo's mom may or may not think I am a drunk.

* It is fun to travel with Sarah and Sylia. Ok, guilty as charged. I already knew that.

* It is not a good idea to order whole fish from a roadside stand, even if it is fried. I learned by observation on this one.

* Johan loves rice and beans. A lot.

* My favorite Santo Domingo bar, Ocho Puertas, is still there on Calle Jose Reyes. But not on the side of the street I remember it being. The drinks are still good and way too expensive and I still love it.

* I am getting old(er). I no longer find beauty in the simplicity of latrine bathing and latrine pooping or in the silence of time without electricity. This deserves a longer discussion, because I am somewhat distressed about discovering that I am not the same traveler I used to be. Stay tuned.

* The distance from the the jet way to the Passport Control at Miami Airport may or may not qualify me for the Twin Cities Marathon.

*Traveling by myself with 6-month-old Johan is very different than traveling by myself with toddler Johan.

* If you walk into the Miami Airport bathroom on New Year's Eve, you are likely to see a lot of Au Bon Pain and Nathan's Hot Dog Employees shedding their uniforms on the floor of the bathroom, getting naked, and then changing into sparkly dresses and painting their eyelids with purple and turquoise eyeshadow.

Happy New Year.