More New Year Thoughts

Since Rosh Hashana is a time of both celebration and reflection, here are two interesting quotes I came across in the past week...

From "The Crisis Last Time" by Ron Suskind:

The next day, [former Treasury secretary] O’Neill was in Florida addressing chief executives of America’s top 20 financial services companies... many of them large Republican contributors... One told the Treasury secretary that he’d “rather resign” than be held accountable for “what’s going on in my company.”

(emphasis mine)

From "The Home Front: A soldier's father wrestles with the ambiguities of Iraq" by George Packer:

...Paul Wolfowitz... once wrote that American leadership required “demonstrating that your friends will be protected and taken care of, that your enemies will be punished and that those who refuse to support you will live to regret having done so"...

Lesson: Responsibility for your actions and morality are for suckers. The rich can do what they want. L'Shanah tova!

The World is Ending!

For years, I've said that a Cubs victory in the World Series is a sign of the apocalypse. We have a potential global financial meltdown just over the horizon. The Cubs are about to begin the first round of playoffs...

I'm conflicted. I so want to the Cubs to win, although I wouldn't mind an end to the horrific acid reflux that torments me at this moment, maybe the end of the world is overkill. Seriously folks, I'm not ready for the world to end. I've got a few books opportunities in the pipeline, I want to savor another Mars bar, and I have never visited Spain.

Yipes.

L'Shanah Tova to the Inferior Women!

Tonight marks the start of the Jewish New Year. According to ads in today's New York Times wishing me a happy new year from Macy's and Bloomingdale's, it is 5769 on the Jewish calendar. That's a long time to survive repeated attempts to eradicate the Jews, if I do say so myself.

In keeping with the holiday theme, the Times ran an article about the overlap of Ramadan and Rosh Hashana this year. It seems that the streets and pathways in Old Jerusalem are more crowded with people studiously ignoring one another than ever. What I like about the article is that there is something in it sure to piss off everyone. (Just check out the comments.) Now that's the holiday spirit!

Actually, the first comment on the article, from esthermiriam in DC, is exactly where I wanted to go with this. She wrote: "And those who control both those holy sites do agree on other thing: that women should be physically separated from men for prayer there..." In the article, Rabbi Shmuel Rabinowitz said of the Western Wall, "this wall makes even those with hearts of stone shed a tear." Oh, Rabbi. Let me explain my tears: they are tears of anger, frustration, and humiliation. For my own people not only separate the women and men, but give the women an inferior place at which to pray. We are accorded less than a quarter of the Wall for our reflections. We are given prayer books and other equipment that are inferior to those provided to the men. I'm not even sure we'd be allowed to read from the Torah on our side. When we live according to our standards and interpretations of Judaism, we are physically and verbally assaulted by the thugs (i.e. - the Hasidim) who control the Wall. So, yes, when I think of the wall, I shed many tears.

L'shanah tova, and peace be upon us. Not only between various religions of the world, but between the factions within them. May the universal religious war on women end in 5769.

Good-Bye, Shea Stadium. Hello, Wrigley Field - Go Cubs!

With three outs left until the sad end of the Mets 2008 season, I am not very hopeful that there will be a post season. Husband says that if this leads to the dismissal of horrific team general manager Omar Minaya, he can live with yet another year in which the Mets crumple in September. Plus I will need not be conflicted about my desire to see the Cubs win the World Series for the first time in 100 years with my status as a committed Mets fan. (Had the Mets won the wild card, they would face the Cubs in the first round of playoffs.)

That said, I look forward to watching the Cubs crush the Phillies in the second round of post season play. To repeat one of my favorite childhood ditties, "Go Cubs go!/Go Cubs go!/Hey, Chicago, whaddya say?/The Cubs are gonna win today!/Go Cubs go!"

OK, I Lied

The Mets are not dead to me. This is the problem with baseball. You swear the bum (team) off, and then they sweet talk you by winning a game. I guess we shall see what this afternoon's game brings.

Ghosts

For years, Dr. P and I were close friends with Dr. P's roommate (DRM). After graduation, DRM went to grad school in the Boston area, Dr. P attended med school in NYC, as I enrolled in a masters program at Columbia University. Although we were somewhat scattered up and down the east coast, we kept in close touch with one another and a few other NYU pals (including Dr. F, who was in dental school at the time) through a listserv that we called laterchicas because Dr. P always ended her email with the phrase, "Later chicas."

It's hard to emphasize how much I valued laterchicas as I struggled to fit in at Columbia. Every break I had from class, I ran to the computer lab to check and see what the word was from my chicas. Those were good times.

Not long after I graduated from Columbia and got married, DRM dropped out of our lives with no explanation, although Dr. P and I suspect that it had something to do with her plans to marry a man she only knew for a few months. Over the last eight years, Dr. P and I have speculated about what happened and what she was up to. Then last night, she friended me on Facebook. While I am happy to hear from her and glad that she now has a lovely family, it really opened an old wound. I hope that we can resolve the past and rebuild our relationship.

On a not at all serious note, but continuing the theme of hauntings, I publicly announce that the Mets are dead to me for the remaining two games in the 2008 season. I spit on their symbolic team grave. If they somehow resurrect themselves and qualify for the post-season, I will now feel no conflict about cheering the Cubs to victory.

The Great Schlep and Usage of the Expression "Douche Nozzle"

I love Sarah Silverman for many reasons. Not only does she employ my favorite insult (douche nozzle) in this video, but she encourages Jews to help their grandparents understand why they should vote for Barack Obama in her extra special offensively hilarious manner.

I Want a Debater, Not a Belly Acher

Now that McCain has destroyed the chance of a bailout package compromise, I hope he is happy with his accomplishment. This is probably the best we can expect from a member of Keating Five. Yes, way back in the late 80s, John McCain helped create the savings & loan (S&L) crisis with his vast economic knowledge. These days, his insistence on working on the economic bailout, for which he did not even read Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson's whopping 3 page plan before he decided to "fix" it, tanked the reasonable compromise that Democratic leaders of Congress reached on Thursday. Let the chaos ensue.

Tonight is supposed to be the first presidential debate, which McCain may or may not attend. I would like McCain, or his second-in-command, the even less capable Sarah "You Pay for Your Own Rape Kit if You are Slutty Enough to Get Raped" Palin, to attend. As Obama said, presidents must be able to handle more than one issue at once. If McCain can't even sink the bailout compromise while talking about foreign affairs, his one strong point, what does that say about his ability to lead a complex nation?*

Speaking of collapses, why is it that the Mets fall to shit in September? Yes, they did win last night, but the Cubs played their back bench and we still almost lost. Husband wonders if the players somehow thought that the team ends 15 days sooner than it does. In a statement about the 275 lb. Mets player Mo Vaughn that I feel perfectly reflects both today's Mets team and John McCain, Husband's crazy Uncle Harold said, "How can you hit the ball if you can't even see your penis?"**

*It says that he is a whiny baby and a fool.
**He shared this nugget of wisdom while crammed into Husband's parents car driving upstate for a bar mitzvah in 2002. He also proclaimed that the media loves George Steinbrenner because he offers nice buffets in the press room with "good cold cuts from the deli, and the largest shrimp you've ever seen!" How he knows this is beyond us.

Theo Thursday: We are the World of Plush Animal Companions

Now that McCain claims to not be campaigning because of the economic crisis (although he was partly responsible for the failure of S&L banks that required a bailout in the 1980s, so he should stay the fuck away from Washington), Theo is extra revved up. He knows that this is just the McCain's campaign latest shenanigan - pretending that he knows anything about economics, how ridiculous! - so he gathered all the plush animal companions living in our apartment for a group protest against this latest farcical travesty of a mockery of a sham. (Apologies for the blurriness of the shot. Our digital camera is dying.)

Click on photo for larger view. The sign says, "We can't bear 4 more years of failed economic policies! Say no to McCain-"Palin aka Bush!" - Plush Animal Companions for Obama<

Please join Theo's group, Plush Animal Companions for Obama (PACO) on Facebook. I swear no one will think you are a plushie.

Hat Trick

As a lifelong Cub fan (although I believe that I swore them off last year, like any girl whose sweetheart repeatedly lets her down, I never really meant it), I am excited that my team is going to the playoffs yet again this year. In celebration, I cracked out my Cubs cap, so nicely modeled by Theo. The hat was a giveaway at a game I went to in 1985. Until a few days ago, I called it my lucky hat, but then I realized that in the 23 years I owned it, the Cubs have never even advanced to the World Series. Instead, the hat brings luck to the opposition team. (Which is why I wore to school last night - the Mets need to win some games so they can join the Cubs in the playoffs, where I am sad to admit, they will be handed their asses and sent home, but still. Both my home teams in the playoffs would be awesome!)

Anyway, the hat is in a sorry state after two decades and three years. I attributed the filth to dirt and sweat from 23 years of rooting for my team, but yesterday it occurred to me that what really caused the grime are 23 years of dashed hopes and broken dreams. Maybe this year will be different.

More Plush Political Commentary

(Click on each photo to enlarge if needed)





Big Beaver and Little Beaver live in Suzanne's living room. Giant Stuffed Penis was made for Husband by Suzanne in December 1995, when Husband's roommate bought his girlfriend a $200 stuffed chick from FAO Schwartz for Christmas. Suzanne told Husband never to waste money on her like that, and Husband replied, "What if it was a giant stuffed penis?" Suzanne thought that would be awesome. Husband did not think such items were sold in stores, so Suzanne decided to make him one. When she sent it to Husband at his parents' house over winter break, his dad saw it and asked, "Why did your girlfriend send you a giant limp penis?" From then on, he requested that Husband "get that thing out of my house."

Things I Need Explained to Me

1. How are the events of Sept. 11, 2001 and their aftermath the fault of Democrats when the White House was controlled by a Republican, the House of Representatives were controlled by Republicans, and the Senate was split 50-50? (I ask this because director David Zucker told Entertainment Weekly that he switched parties after 9/11 "due to what he saw as Democratic dithering." Kelsey Grammer goes on to say, "A lot of people don't want to admit that a threat to this country exists." Yes, and that included your stupid fucking President Bush, who then used his ignorance to blame other people for 9/11.)

2. What feed reader is the best to use? (I ask this because I've had nothing but trouble with my lame attempts to get a better handle on my blog reading through the use of feed readers.)

3. Why do conservatives never want to engage in real conversation? (I ask this because I noticed that liberals and moderates comment frequently on the conservative posts at BlogHer, but the conservative posters never reply to posts from liberal or moderate bloggers. OK, I know the answer to this is because they don't like listening to facts and having their worldview challenged. Also, let's face it, I think many of them are just not smart enough to engage in a logical discussion. There. I said it.)

4. Why does it take 7-10 days for a haircut to settle into something decent? (I ask this because I got a haircut on Thursday and I think I look like a dipshit, but this happens every time I get a haircut, and all is well 7-10 days later.)

My Next Next Book

Upon the successful publication of Congratulations, You're a Woman Now!, I plan to pen a nonfiction tome entitled The Three-Fifths Compromise is Fucking Bullshit. I will expound upon the unfair and undue influence that this heinous policy accorded the South by denying that slaves were actual human beings, yet allowing them to be counted for the purposes of political representation. Once the Founding Fathers committed this egregious blunder, they set the pattern for the nation to be screwed for eternity.

Freshest Faces

I found the following email in my inbox:

MySpace has teamed up with Ford Models for the Next Fresh Faces contest, and you could be the newest

Well, if they are using "fresh" in the context of being loud and "sassy," and/or speaking like a trucker on a cocaine bender, then absolutely I could be the Next Fresh Face. That would be rather exciting, not to mention a nice way to finance my expensive MFA program. However, if they mean "fresh" as in vibrant, new, and youthful, I think they should not send out mass emails.

Speaking of the MFA program, yesterday there was a party for all the first years to get to know one another. I believe that I was a little bit too much me and may have overwhelmed several students that I had thus far fooled into thinking I was a nice and sweet person. Husband further reinforced my "nutjob" status when he met up with me and my band of new friends wearing an obviously fake bushy black mustache. Of course, this cracked me up and made me wish that I wore a fake mustache, too. I look damn good with a fake mustache, as evidenced below.

Maybe I should submit this photo to the Freshest Faces contest...

Theo Thursday

Theodore Roosevelt Reisman is a companion bear for Suzanne. He was not interested in politics until he learned that Vice Presidential nominee Sarah Palin supported policies that hurt his polar bear cousins in the Arctic Circle. Today, he is the spokesbear for Plush Companion Animals for Obama Plush Animal Companions for Obama (PACO) (Thanks, No Regrets!). a group Suzanne just created as she typed this for him, so stay tuned for details. Join PACO on Facebook!

Will Blog for Gift Cards

My pal Alex is running a contest over at Flexible Parenting Reviews. The prizes are good, and as we watch the federal government pour all of our hard-earned money to save corporations that paid their executives millions and millions of dollars to run their companies into the ground so that wage slaves could bail them out before the rest of the economy is destroyed and the wage slaves have no jobs, who can't use a gift card?

Woman on the Verge of a Nervous Breakout

My return to school has brought with it the return of my skin problems of yore. I trimmed my 'stache a bit, only to find a potentially mountainous zit hiding under the thin fringe. A quick glance at my cheek or under my nose reveals that the zits are sort of hovering under the surface, waiting for me to make one false move, then BAM! Massive breakouts will ensue.

It would be nice if I could stop stressing about the election, the economy, and the world at large. Also, I'd like to stop second guessing my decision to go back to school in the first place. For the most part, I'm learning a lot and meeting some interesting people. Still, I couldn't help but wonder if I'm just throwing money away, especially when I read Jennifer Wiener's advice to aspiring writers. (Granted, I've only read one of her books - Good in Bed - but I liked it a lot.) She just makes a lot of sense to me.

OK, deep breaths. I went out last night with a few of my classmates, which was fun. No one seemed to think I am a fucktard, so that is encouraging. Tonight I am giving a short presentation in my lit class on Edwidge Danticat, as well as handing in my first literary critique since I wrote a paper about all the menstruation symbolism in Jane Eyre in the fall of 1995. Fingers crossed, and I'm off to wash my face.

$1,000 Per Plate Obama Fundraiser in Wilmette Not at My Parents' House

According to the New York Times, Sen. Hillary Clinton "appeared at a $1,000-per-plate dessert reception on Sunday at a home in Wilmette, Ill." When I thought about the likelihood of the event hosted in my parents dining room with people hitting their heads on the poorly centered and too low chandelier, I could not stop laughing. I figured that guests would admire the unicorn on a heart shaped plaque hanging on the living room wall that I painted years ago at the Snoop Shop. Other news sources confirmed that my parents were not holding out on me and hosting secret fundraisers by identifying the host as Kevin Conlon. (I tried to remember if I knew anyone with that last name, but I don't think I do.) Man, would I be pissed if my parents really did host something like that and didn't invite me!

Incidentally, if Hillary Clinton had followed the advice that I psychically offered her in 2000, she would possibly be the presidential nominee instead of Obama. At the time, Illinois had a douche bag conservative senator with two years left on his term. He did not plan to run again. I suggested that Hillary move back to her the fine state of her youth and wait a bit to run for his seat, but nope. Like me, the lady did not want to go back home once she saw the glittering lights of New York. Instead, she moved here, became a Yankees fan (boo! hiss! for God's sake, any self-respecting Cubs' fan would know that they should adopt the Mets as their NY home team, which I think reflects her character, but I digress...), ran for Senate, and won. Fine, but had she gone home, Barack Obama would not have run for the open Illinois seat (or at least not won it in all likelihood), thus preventing him from gaining national prominence.

And the rest is history. Go Obama.

Destiny and Alaska

College application time in the Reisman household was something of a battle of wills. We made a nice little tour of schools in the summer of 1993, motoring east to Boston to visit Boston University, then hopping a train to New York City to check out New York University. I think my dad hoped that once I saw how noisy, disgusting, and evil New York City was, I would come to my senses and shun the place. Instead, I left my heart in Greenwich Village, and my dad left the City with much stomach acid.

Upon the family's return to our quaint domicile at the side of the Edens Expressway (because there is nothing noisy or disgusting about living by a highway), my parents sat down with me at our ancient dining room table to discuss where I would apply to school. I read them my list, from first to last choice: NYU, BU, George Washington University (in DC), University of Iowa, and University of Illinois. "You are not applying to NYU," my father informed me.

Long story short, there was much yelling. A few weeks later, the University of Alaska at Fairbanks sent me a letter informing me that my ACT test scores qualified me to attend their fine institution of learning for free. I decided that if I could not apply to NYU, I would take them up on their generous offer and run away to the frozen tundra. My dad wrote me a check for NYU's application fee that night.

I reflected fondly on this piece of history today after reading the story and viewing the photos of yesterday's anti-Palin protest at Daily Kos. Had things turned out differently, I might have been bundled up and carrying my protest signs with Theo rather than wandering around a book festival sweating through my underwear in downtown Brooklyn on an uncharacteristically humid and sunny mid-September Sunday. Rock on, my fellow progressives!

Clean and Fresh

While I read How to Read Literature Like a Professor yesterday afternoon, the phone rang. Husband answered.

"It's Rebecca," he said and brought me the phone.

My cousin is a writer, so I thought I'd show off what I learned thus far. "Did you know that rain is a symbol of cleansing in literature?" I said, rather than "Hello."

She started to reply, when Husband shouted, "So's douche!!!"

My chest puffed with pride. We are so erudite in my household.

What Would CUSS Readers Do?: Lit Crit 101

Um, does anyone know anything about writing 2-3 page criticisms of short stories and essays focusing on one aspect of the work (like dialog)? Because I sure as fuck don't have a clue. I take that back - I have a clue, but only one that would lead me to write 2-3 sentences.

Advice is welcome. Recommendations of potential sources are welcome. Anything is welcome.

Update, 6:20 PM: After spending some time cruising the aisles of my local B&N, I purchased How to Read Literature Like a Professor by Thomas C. Foster. It certainly lives up to its subtitle, "A Lively and Entertaining Guide to Reading Between the Lines. While I do not think this will entirely solve my problem, it has provided me with three or four more clues as to how to write some sort of paper describing the techniques that are used in the various pieces that I am reading. I also bought a book of literary essays from 2000-2005 by J.M. Coetzee. Now I just hope that "literary essays" and "literary reviews" are synonyms for "literary criticism."

CUSS reader insight is still very welcome.

Keeping the Motor Running

Yesterday I brought myself in for a tune up at the cooter garage (i.e. - the gynecologist, not Cooter's Garage from Dukes of Hazard, although if I were a GYN, I would definitely name my practice Cooter Garage). This was the third GYN I saw in three years. My first GYN, who I adored because she used foul language to describe a bad doctor, disappeared at the end of 2006. I tried my friend Sara's doc last year, but wasn't impressed. (She described him as very attentive, but I had to remind him to take my history before the exam. Not cool.) I wasn't sure if I would see him again or try to find another person for my annual exam this year. Finding new doctors is a pain in the ass (or maybe in this case, in the crotch?).

Then, in May, the answer came to me while I visited Dr. P in Florida. One might think that she referred me to some doctor that she knew, but of course, that would be a normal way to select a new doctor. While I usually do not read women's magazines (I even hate the term), Dr. P had an issue of Glamour that I picked up while we were sitting around her apartment. Generally, I do not find the health articles helpful, so I was shocked to read one in which the author, a gynecologist in New York City, warned women about the potential dangers of Brazilian waxing. Plus, her bio at the end of the article indicated that she contributes to a feminist sexuality blog. I knew we would get along.

"This is my new gynecologist!" I announced to Dr. P and Husband, pointing excitedly at the open page.

"OK," Husband mumbled, not looking up from what he was reading.

"Great," Dr. P said from the other room.

The best part is that I was right: I LOVE this woman. (This most excellent gynecologist, by the way, is Dr. Katherine O'Connell at New York-Presbyterian.) She's totally the shit. As long as she doesn't drop off the face of the earth, I'll not worry about my poon care for a long time.

I Adore My In-Laws

My mother-in-law (MIL) is also freaking out about the election these days. Like me, Sarah "Exactly the Same as George W. Bush" Palin is scaring her. I sent her an email noting my amusement that Husband is on McCain's mailing list for some unknown reason. Her response cracked me up:

Like father, like son. [Father-in-Law (FIL)] is also on a Republican mailing list. He often gets questionnaires, and he always answers as if he were a socialist/communist, just to get under their skin. He too, mails it back in their envelope. Perhaps I should sign up on a McCain website to get mail. Let's flood them.

FIL has been known to vote Republican at times, so I was pleasantly surprised to learn that he fucks with them, too. It is so wonderful to marry into a good family.

Theo Thursday

It's the same message as last week, but he's a stuffed bear and has some language barriers, so cut Theo some slack. Plus, he was up until 1:30 looking for a good picture so he could put a face to the problem. (Isn't he clever?)



(If Theo's message is not legible, double click on the photo for a larger version.)

Theodore Roosevelt Reisman is a companion polar bear and has lived with Suzanne for approximately 20 years. His opposition to drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and concern for wild polar bears partly stems from learning about the conservation efforts of his namesake, Pres. Theodore Roosevelt.

Five Things I'm Loving

1. Husband somehow wound up on John McCain's mailing list. The man is a lifelong, committed Democrat. He is never going to give money to a douche bag like McCain. Every time I find an envelope from the McCain campaign in our mail box, I think of the money they wasted sending him materials. The return envelope is one of those "No postage necessary if mailed in the United States" deals. Would it not be awesome to wrap it around a brick and send it back? Mwa ha ha ha ha.

2. Going back to school at an "older" age. When I went for my MPA, I was only 22. I didn't feel confident enough to speak up on certain issues or challenge others, so I didn't say anything. This time around, I am just as eager to learn, but I'm also not willing to sit on my opinion. Plus, I care not a whit about grades. I just want to do my best and see what happens. It's liberating.

3. My pink John Fluevog boots. And the fact that I did not pay anything near $305 for them a few years ago. (I bought them on clearance, although now I'm shitting myself at what it will cost to replace them some day.)

4. On a perfect sunny day in the mid-70s, I hopped the subway to see St. Demetrios' ankle bone. (First I went to the dentist, though. No cavaties!)

5. The good people I continue to meet in person and online.

Suzanne and the Beanstalk

Once upon a time, in a magical land called New York City, where unlike most of America, people from all around the world live together in relative peace and tolerance, lived a curmudgeonly woman with a heart of gold. Despite her loathing of people in general, Suzanne spent years working to create safer communities and better opportunities for low income children and women. Her reward was burn out and even more crabbiness and cynicism, so she quit to write a fun book about New York City called Off the Beaten (Subway) Track. While this excellent publication entertained many people, it did not contribute very much to her household income, so she continued her work to make the world a better place through consulting.

As Suzanne worked on a project this morning, she knocked over her circa 1981 McDonald's Great Muppet Capers glass (featuring the only Muppet she despises, Miss Piggy). Water spilled everywhere, including under the couch. Grumbling, Suzanne set off to fetch paper towels (incidentally, "I've got some paper towels!" is a favorite line from "The Great Muppet Caper") and mop up the wet mess before her conference call.

As she labored on her knees (not that kind of work that a woman might perform while kneeling, pervert) with a wad of paper towels, she made a discovery. Somewhere from under the depths of the couch popped out a single emerald jelly bean. Suzanne could not remember the last time jelly beans were consumed in her apartment, so she knew immediately that, unlike the Teddy Graham she found under her other couch while moving furniture around on Sunday, that this morsel of food was magic! (This was one of many reasons that she fought an extremely disturbing temptation to eat it. The last thing she needs these days is a beanstalk erupting from her gut like on one the aliens in Alien.)

Suzanne set the magic green jelly bean aside and finished sopping water from the floor. She decided that in the event that Team New George Bush wins the election in November that she will plant it in Central Park. When the beanstalk appears, she will climb it and run away from the cretins who love increasingly fascist rulers who believe that God wants them to build $30 million natural gas pipelines, ban books, and turn the civil service into an ideological gang of bullies.

THE END

Don't Shoot!

Although I like pretending that I am a scary bear, I am really just a big nerd in a moderately-sized woman's body. The little seal next to me is a snow sculpture.* I fear that with the recent discussion of Gov. Sarah Palin's love of hunting, people might accidentally blow us away with an AK-47 while hunting for wolves from helicopters. I just want to be clear that I am not, in fact, a scary bear.

Speaking of bears, Theo enjoyed his guest post stint this past Thursday so much that I decided to create a new feature called Theo Thursdays. Every Thursday until the election (or until Palin drops out), Theo will post an environmental message on CUSS. He is very excited about this opportunity and hopes you will enjoy it. We both hope that it will not need to continue after early November because Barack Obama will be our next president.

Speaking of bloody "sports," anyone who is interested in submitting an essay for a potential anthology about periods has until September 15 to do so. Check out Congratulations, You're a Woman Now! for details. I think it will be an awesome book along the lines of Sleep is for the Weak. We want to capture a diverse range of stories and experiences, so please spread the word.

*This photo was shot in Cooperstown, NY in February 2005. Husband and I went up there to celebrate our 10th anniversary of being together. I think it is clear that we are well suited for each other, as only crazy people go to freezing Cooperstown in February. We thought it would be fun to participate in their winter carnival and also see the Baseball Hall of Fame, though. As part of the carnival, we took a walking tour across a frozen lake, which was awesome. At the Hall of Fame, I posed for a picture with Curt Schilling's bloody sock. (I hoped that the pig who "donated" his/her ligament to Schilling's ankle would also be honored, but the museum seems to discriminate against non-human baseball heroes.) We had a great time.

Blood, Sweat, and Tears

Sweat
Friday was the hottest weather the New York metropolitan area had sweltered from in weeks. (While it is not unusual for early September days to steam from the remains of August's humidity, the last three weeks of August were in the low 80s and clear, so the September heatwave was a slight shock to the system.) Of course, Friday was also the day I had set aside to walk around Queens and map a course for a tour I am leading in the spring for the New York City Transit Museum.

As I trudged from the Socrates Sculpture Garden to the subway to the Louis Armstrong House to Leo's Latticini to the Queens Museum of Art, the sun baked me in my clothes like veggies wrapped in aluminum foil on a grill. Sweat escaped from the brim of my homemade Mets-Cubs fisherman's cap, trickled down my brow, and stung my eyes. My face bathed in its salty wash, providing a fertile environment for zits.

One of my favorite lines in the movie Good Morning, Vietnam was when Robin Williams described the heat in the jungles of 'nam as so bad, one can do "a little crotch pot cookin'." By that description, I made a feast on Friday. My underwear was so soaked through with sweat that I felt like I just took a swim in the ocean while fully clothed.

Blood
After my stop at the Queens Museum of Art, I headed over to visit my friend Flo and meet her newborn baby, Joey. Despite my foul condition, Flo and her husband not only admitted me to their air conditioned apartment, but also allowed me to sit on their leather sofa. Joey peacefully slept as Flo described her efforts to bring him into the world.

Poor Flo was in labor for 36 hours before doctors gave in and performed a c-section. Unfortunately by that point, Joey was already in the birth canal, so pulling him out was a challenge. Flo said it felt like the OB was sitting on her chest while he tried extracting the baby.

"I need leverage," he yelled at the resident. "Go find another attending!"

A few minutes after she department, Joey finally popped out. Flo waited until Joey cried, held him a few minutes, and then slept for hours. She says it was worth it all.

I am never having a baby.

Tears
I stayed with Flo's family for 45 minutes before I departed for my next errands. My underwear was still sopping when I arrived at school to pick up a packet of reading for my lit class (free! I still can't believe it!), printed out another student's work for my workshop, and refilled my water bottle. Then I headed over to Grand Central Station to meet Husband in Connecticut, from where we would drive to Massachusetts for Alex's son's 5th birthday party on Saturday. My underwear was just drying out as the train pulled into Stamford.

After a delightful dinner at IHOP and some quick shopping for a birthday card, we motored up to the hotel in MA. When I finally fell into the shower at 10 pm, I cried tears of joy. Never have I been in such need of bathing or clean underwear.

Yurts!

Assuming that I'm not planning a new life in a foreign country after election day, Husband and I are heading to California for an end-of-the-year trip. The scheme is to fly to Los Angeles on Christmas Day, spend two-ish days wandering amongst the bronzed and the implanted, then drive up to Ventura to hang out with Suebob on my birthday. From there, we shall continue up the coast, stopping in Solvang ("Scandinavian" tourist trap), Pismo Beach, and San Luis Obispo (Bubblegum Alley!!!), and taking a night tour of Hearst Castle. A search of the internets for a place to stay near Hearst Castle made me gasp.

"Yurts!"

"What?" Husband asked. "Are you OK?"

I sprang up from the couch. "OH MY GOD!!!!! We can stay in a yurt!"

Husband's face transformed into a question mark. I sighed. "You know - a yurt!" Except that he obviously didn't know. "It's a part tent, part solid building thing," I expounded.

"Why do you know this?"

Good question. I have no idea why I know what a yurt is. Although Husband then accused my family of being a roving hippie clan, we never went anywhere more exotic than Burbank to visit my great uncle and great aunt. It's always interesting to try and trace back to when you first learned about something, and I'm drawing a complete blank on the yurt. The only explanation I can up with is that I must have read about it somewhere. Yurts are hardly common in the suburbs of Chicago, so I've certainly never seen one. However it worked its way into my subconscious, I am psyched for our yurt stay.

Class

For once, a post titled "Class" has nothing to do with socioeconomic issues. Have no fear - it also does not mean that I behaved in a way which would exhibit exceptional taste. Rather, I'm excited that I started class at the New School.

My first class was a writing workshop. The instructor* is wonderful, and I think that I will learn a lot from her. There are only 10 students in the workshop, and all of us are first years. The instructor was shocked, as usually workshops are mixed between first and second year students. I've been joking that we are the special ed class. We'll get mainstreamed with the big kids next semester.

Last night I attended my second class, which is about essays and short fiction. (The cheap bastard that resides within me is especially delighted that I don't have to buy any books. All the articles are photocopied and supplied to us for free!) This class is a mix of first and second year and fiction and nonfiction students, although mostly we are first years and nonfiction folk. The instructor of this class is also thoughtful. Again, I believe that I will learn a lot.

One of the assignments was to choose an author from the syllabus and prepare a 10-15 minute oral presentation on a topic on which she/he writes. Using my usual quality barometer, I choose Edwidge Danticat because I read a glowing review of her memoir in my Bible, Entertainment Weekly. (Let's keep this fact between us.) Also, she writes about Haiti, which is a country that I know very little about but am fascinated by from cultural and policy perspectives. I also have a very tiny personal connection. When I was a wee lass, my aunt went to Haiti to do humanitarian work, and she brought me back a Creole primer and a wood table and chair set for my dolls. My aunt also served as a VISTA volunteer in the Haitian community in Miami. From what I understand, Haiti is one of those nations that has consistently been fucked by racism, poverty, and the United States meddling in its affairs, which exacerbates the first two problems. Danticat also writes about the beauty that remains in the country, so I am excited to delve into her work.

*Professor? The technical titles confuse me.

Guest Post: Theodore Roosevelt Reisman

Please welcome today's guest blogger, Theodore Roosevelt Reisman, aka Theo:



(If Theo's message is not legible, double click on the photo for a larger version.)

Theodore Roosevelt Reisman is a companion polar bear and has lived with Suzanne for approximately 20 years. His opposition to drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and concern for wild polar bears partly stems from learning about the conservation efforts of his namesake, Pres. Theodore Roosevelt. Theo is also a former model, and loves travel, even if it is in Suzanne's suitcase.

Oh, the Hypocrisy

Truly, what I love best about conservatives is their highly developed ability to speak out of both sides of their mouths. It's an impressive talent.

Case in point: Gov. Palin's pregnant 17 year old daughter. If Joe Biden's daughter or Hillary Clinton's daughter suddenly presented an unmarried pregnancy, I know that we would never hear the end of how evil and valueless these adult women are. The nerve of them, fornicating outside the sacred bonds of marriage! Yet another symbol of how Democrats and liberals bring Sodom and Gomorrah right here to our beloved United States, God bless it. Only people with no values would let their children stray into active sexuality. Clearly, they are not fit to lead the good people of this nation! In fact, it is likely God's wrath for the behavior of these harridans, these wanton sluts that sent Gustav to punish Americans for tolerating this slatternly behavior.

Instead, since it is their sweet evangelical governor/vice presidential candidate whose teen daughter indulged in extramarital sex, we get lectured for not minding our own business. After all, this is a family matter! Who cares if Gov. Palin supports abstinence for the rest of our children until they are married?!?! How dare anyone say anything about it!?!? Plus, as an alternate delegate told the New York Times, "Now she's a typical American family."

Boggles the mind. That said, I do feel bad for the kid. It's got to be pretty awful to have a nation discussing your unintended pregnancy.

Abstinence-Only Education is a Huge Success!*

Save a seat for me on the bandwagon as I jump on late in the game. Gov. Sarah Palin of Alaska - who not only flew from Alaska to Texas while nine months pregnant (generally, it is a big no-no to fly after the eighth month or so), then insisted on flying nine hours back to Alaska after her water broke (thus creating a ripe environment for infection) so that her kid would not be born in Texas - continues to fly her family values flag proudly, cheerfully reporting that her 17 year daughter's pregnancy is OK since she is going to marry the baby's father. Smiley-face happy ending aside, perhaps we can take a moment to acknowledge that Gov. Palin's support of abstinence-only education certainly has reduced the teen pregnancy rate in her own home by 0%.

*If success is re-defined as failure. The Bush administration likes re-defining things.