Saw this woman the other day wearing sandals, and both her pinkie toes pointed straight up to the sky, like they were permanently having tea with the queen.
PS Never, ever look up images of feet online.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
The queen, tea and toes
Saw this woman the other day wearing sandals, and both her pinkie toes pointed straight up to the sky, like they were permanently having tea with the queen.
PS Never, ever look up images of feet online.
Transvestights
It will come as no surprise that my family are National Public Radio (NPR) freaks. Growing up we were tuned in to NPR in the mornings while we got ready for work/school and everywhere we went in the car (except for the phase mom went through that involved buying tapes to listen to in the Chevet: RunDMC and Twisted Sister come to mind. It IS tricky to rock a rhyme, to rock a rhyme that's right on time, by the way.)
NPR is a hard habit to kick, and I'm an avid user now as an adult. I used heavily while pregnant and am hoping Cam has it coursing through his veins. I even got my husband addicted. Everyone I know is addicted and whenever we're together we like to get high on the news.
Conversations in my circle go like this:
Me: "Could you believe about that zoo in Gaza?"
(Turning away from friend.)
"Grande skim latte with whip cream, please."
Friend: "Well, All Things Considered, finding those Lions after so many days was miraculous. Venti chai latte, thanks."
Me: "Hahahaha. Good one. It's so sad, though. Anyway, did you hear what Cokie said? Kills me. So smart, so funny."
Friend: "Totally. She's my hero."
Me: "I know, right? I'd love to have her for dinner, but then I'd feel really stupid."
Notice we need not mention NPR or the day and time we listened, and that we feel as though Cokie (born Mary Martha Corinne Morrison Claiborne Boggs, which I just learned today) Roberts has been a friend since our moms could leave us in the Chevet with the windows cracked while they went grocery shopping for an hour. I spent that time shaving my legs with the razor ma left in the glove-compartment box, often listening to NPR. Or the Chariots of Fire soundtrack.
Anyway, this is a long run up for my point. I am emailed NPR news, and I recently read about an organization in San Francisco that was gathering hair clippings from salons, stuffing that hair in nylons/tights and sending it to Louisiana as human-hair booms are a natural way to soak up oil. The problem they were running into was that they had an abundance of hair, but no one wears stocking anymore. Except, that is, for the transvestite community, which has come forth a-plenty and saved the day.
And I just love the irony in that a stretch of Republican Louisiana beach, albeit only a very small section perhaps, will be saved because of transvestights.
If you'd like to listen to this most excellent story, go to this NPR link! An excerpt from All Things Considered.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
2010 UK Election -- Continued!
Congratulations to the U.K. for having a civilized political system. Love, hate, or don't care about politics, most countries (ahem, I'm talking to you, America) could learn a lot: like a 6-week campaign and a president/Prime Minister who steps down graciously even though he doesn't have to legally.
European elections, in general, are far shorter, cost far less and focus on far more important issues than the U.S. Where that leaves us, US(!), is candidates spending millions to billions to get elected (or not), candidates who dither over small and small-minded issues, and politicians who are frightened into inaction weeks into their terms because they want to get re-elected and god forbid they do something unpopular two years before the next race.
Naturally I can't find the source right now, but a few years back CNN lined up all the Western European heads of state and said how much money they were allowed to spend on campaigns. They're helped out by things like free TV ads (Britain) and other public funding, but by our standards it was laughable -- hundreds of thousands of dollars to a million or two max for Prime Ministers and Presidents.
I could have cried for joy when British politicians said abortion was not a campaign issue. At the time, Europe had been discussing new late-term abortion research for weeks, but both front runners said no, not our issue. On their radar, yes. Of concern, yes. But they preferred to go head-to-head on matters that were more pressing for a greater percentage of the public.
The U.K., Germany and Spain are all fairly religious places, yet you don't hear about it in politics, or daily life, really. God, like abortions, is a personal choice, not one to be discussed on air. Germany to this day doesn't have separation of church and state. Church tax comes out of your paycheck automatically unless you opt out. But then you can never get married in any church in the entire country. Spain is synonymous with Catholicism, and Henry the VIII invented something new to allow him to divorce. Europe is a churchy place -- you can't swing a cat without hitting a cathedral in any city or village, but shucks, folks. It's not worn on your sleeve. No ones talks about WWJD, if they believe, they just do.
Less talk, more action. It's refreshing.
Bon voyage, Mr. Brown. Valiant effort, and like anyone in a position that high (ack, erk, ouch, it hurts -- even Bush), you did what you thought was best at the time.
Good luck, Mr. Cameron. It's a poisoned chalice these days. Filled to the brim with an aging accelerant.
European elections, in general, are far shorter, cost far less and focus on far more important issues than the U.S. Where that leaves us, US(!), is candidates spending millions to billions to get elected (or not), candidates who dither over small and small-minded issues, and politicians who are frightened into inaction weeks into their terms because they want to get re-elected and god forbid they do something unpopular two years before the next race.
Naturally I can't find the source right now, but a few years back CNN lined up all the Western European heads of state and said how much money they were allowed to spend on campaigns. They're helped out by things like free TV ads (Britain) and other public funding, but by our standards it was laughable -- hundreds of thousands of dollars to a million or two max for Prime Ministers and Presidents.
I could have cried for joy when British politicians said abortion was not a campaign issue. At the time, Europe had been discussing new late-term abortion research for weeks, but both front runners said no, not our issue. On their radar, yes. Of concern, yes. But they preferred to go head-to-head on matters that were more pressing for a greater percentage of the public.
The U.K., Germany and Spain are all fairly religious places, yet you don't hear about it in politics, or daily life, really. God, like abortions, is a personal choice, not one to be discussed on air. Germany to this day doesn't have separation of church and state. Church tax comes out of your paycheck automatically unless you opt out. But then you can never get married in any church in the entire country. Spain is synonymous with Catholicism, and Henry the VIII invented something new to allow him to divorce. Europe is a churchy place -- you can't swing a cat without hitting a cathedral in any city or village, but shucks, folks. It's not worn on your sleeve. No ones talks about WWJD, if they believe, they just do.
Less talk, more action. It's refreshing.
Bon voyage, Mr. Brown. Valiant effort, and like anyone in a position that high (ack, erk, ouch, it hurts -- even Bush), you did what you thought was best at the time.
Good luck, Mr. Cameron. It's a poisoned chalice these days. Filled to the brim with an aging accelerant.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
2010 UK Elections
I’m going to totally muddle this, so don’t take it as gospel:
1. No one in the UK votes. At least no one under the age of 80. No one I met in the UK ever did.
2. The system is a lot like here. Largely a two-party system, though they have smaller parties that are usually regional (like Plaid Cymru in Wales). And the Queen has nothing to do with it whatsoever.
3. There's the House of Commons (literally, commoners, as in, Les Mis, “let them eat cake,” non-royal piss ants) who are elected by other peasants. Then there is the House of Lords, who are royals, Lords by birth or as assigned by the Queen/King.
4. The Prime Minister belongs to the House of Commons. The prime minister’s party has to have the majority in parliament in order to gain/maintain his position. So each county/borough/Podunk election (aka the local elections voting for MPs (Members of Parliament, not the PM) has to be won by the winning political party to see their candidate become PM.
5. If there is no clear majority (as is the case now), it’s called a hung parliament, and the existing PM may choose to resign or remain in place until…this is where I get foggy…there’s another election, or two parties come together to form a majority, because if you don’t have the majority vote, nothing gets passed unless the MPs cross party lines to vote with an opposing party.
6. So as I understand it, general elections are every 5 years, or can be called at any time by the PM in cases of the MPs/country voicing no confidence in the PM and his government (which means the MPs in the PM’s party who run the show). There were calls for Brown to call for a general election a few years ago, called by Cameron, but Brown didn’t pick up the phone, or his voicemail or the message in general.
7. By our terms, Brown is now a lame duck. A place holder. He won’t get anything passed, no one takes him seriously, vote of non-confidence. One of few PMs who haven’t resigned in his current predicament. Kinda stickin’ around just in case, and to make sure the entire country doesn’t spiral into the depths of abysmal economic hell.
8. David Cameron is the leader of the Conservative party (aka the Tories), their choice for PM. He is also a Shadow Minister in the Shadow Cabinet (leader of the opposition of the current Brown/Labor government, as he is the leader of the 2nd largest party in the UK at the moment -- prior to this election.) He is also a member of the privy council (don’t ask). So had the Conservatives won the majority, Cameron would have become PM.
Tories, Whigs, Shadow Ministers…I mean, you can see where the Harry Potter lady got her fodder. I thought treacle was one of her fictitious desserts until I moved to the UK, when I found that it is indeed a golden syrup-y item to be poured on cake. Which they call sponge. Cake/sponge, what we call desserts, are, according to the Brits, in an after dinner category called pudding (dessert).
If you think their government is confusing, try going out to eat. Because there’s lunch and dinner and tea, all of which are interchangeable depending on the family you’re eating with. So if someone invites you over for tea, you may get hot liquid in porcelain or an entire evening meal (usually takeout). And if you want pudding, they ask, “what kind?” and you say chocolate, and they are confused and bring you a bar of chocolate, not J-e-l-l-o pudding. And then they say, “would you like some spotted dick instead?” and you say, “Whoa, what kind of dinner party is this? No thanks, I’m not fond of venereal diseases,” and they say, “What? Crazy American. It’s a sponge.” And you say, “You want me to do the dishes?” and they say, “Crazy American. Spotted dick is a sponge with treacle on top, it’s a pudding you have after tea.” And you scream, “is it cake or pudding or a sponge -- and you haven’t even offered me tea or coffee yet!?!”
Suffice it to say, I don't know dick about British politics. This might help:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elections_in_the_United_Kingdom
1. No one in the UK votes. At least no one under the age of 80. No one I met in the UK ever did.
2. The system is a lot like here. Largely a two-party system, though they have smaller parties that are usually regional (like Plaid Cymru in Wales). And the Queen has nothing to do with it whatsoever.
3. There's the House of Commons (literally, commoners, as in, Les Mis, “let them eat cake,” non-royal piss ants) who are elected by other peasants. Then there is the House of Lords, who are royals, Lords by birth or as assigned by the Queen/King.
4. The Prime Minister belongs to the House of Commons. The prime minister’s party has to have the majority in parliament in order to gain/maintain his position. So each county/borough/Podunk election (aka the local elections voting for MPs (Members of Parliament, not the PM) has to be won by the winning political party to see their candidate become PM.
5. If there is no clear majority (as is the case now), it’s called a hung parliament, and the existing PM may choose to resign or remain in place until…this is where I get foggy…there’s another election, or two parties come together to form a majority, because if you don’t have the majority vote, nothing gets passed unless the MPs cross party lines to vote with an opposing party.
6. So as I understand it, general elections are every 5 years, or can be called at any time by the PM in cases of the MPs/country voicing no confidence in the PM and his government (which means the MPs in the PM’s party who run the show). There were calls for Brown to call for a general election a few years ago, called by Cameron, but Brown didn’t pick up the phone, or his voicemail or the message in general.
7. By our terms, Brown is now a lame duck. A place holder. He won’t get anything passed, no one takes him seriously, vote of non-confidence. One of few PMs who haven’t resigned in his current predicament. Kinda stickin’ around just in case, and to make sure the entire country doesn’t spiral into the depths of abysmal economic hell.
8. David Cameron is the leader of the Conservative party (aka the Tories), their choice for PM. He is also a Shadow Minister in the Shadow Cabinet (leader of the opposition of the current Brown/Labor government, as he is the leader of the 2nd largest party in the UK at the moment -- prior to this election.) He is also a member of the privy council (don’t ask). So had the Conservatives won the majority, Cameron would have become PM.
Tories, Whigs, Shadow Ministers…I mean, you can see where the Harry Potter lady got her fodder. I thought treacle was one of her fictitious desserts until I moved to the UK, when I found that it is indeed a golden syrup-y item to be poured on cake. Which they call sponge. Cake/sponge, what we call desserts, are, according to the Brits, in an after dinner category called pudding (dessert).
If you think their government is confusing, try going out to eat. Because there’s lunch and dinner and tea, all of which are interchangeable depending on the family you’re eating with. So if someone invites you over for tea, you may get hot liquid in porcelain or an entire evening meal (usually takeout). And if you want pudding, they ask, “what kind?” and you say chocolate, and they are confused and bring you a bar of chocolate, not J-e-l-l-o pudding. And then they say, “would you like some spotted dick instead?” and you say, “Whoa, what kind of dinner party is this? No thanks, I’m not fond of venereal diseases,” and they say, “What? Crazy American. It’s a sponge.” And you say, “You want me to do the dishes?” and they say, “Crazy American. Spotted dick is a sponge with treacle on top, it’s a pudding you have after tea.” And you scream, “is it cake or pudding or a sponge -- and you haven’t even offered me tea or coffee yet!?!”
Suffice it to say, I don't know dick about British politics. This might help:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elections_in_the_United_Kingdom
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Fly the Friendly Skies My Ass
There has been serious talk in our household of moving to Texas, most likely Houston. Here is my 20-second word association with Texas. Go:
Bush
Christian fanatics
Tornadoes
BBQ
Blinding humidity
Raging lunatic Republicans
Bush
Inadequate educations
Big Hair
Waco
NRA
Bible belt
Dallas Cowboys
Obesity (minus the above's cheerleaders)
Hurricanes
Aaaaaaaaand time.
Now, before you say, "but Lindsay, you've never been to Texas," I'm going to say this: I've never been to the Gaza Strip, but I don't fancy living there either.
This is not the time to dive into politics or religion, no, no. I don't want people to think I'm misunderestimating their intelligence by using any loquaciously sneaky strategery. I will take higher ground, literally, because I heard somewhere that if you can't say something nice, talk about the weather.
Shoot, they say a picture is worth a thousand words, let's save some ink. I will leave you with Bush quotes, talking in, or about, Texas. The first picture is of the 342 category 3-5 tornadoes in Texas from 1950-2008, the second is of the hurricanes that have hit Texas from 1886-1996 (ergo, not including the last 14 years):
.bmp)
"There's an old saying in Tennessee — I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee — that says, fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can't get fooled again." —Nashville, Tenn., Sept. 17, 2002
"There's no question about it. Wall Street got drunk -- that's one of the reasons I asked you to turn off the TV cameras -- it got drunk and now it's got a hangover. The question is how long will it sober up and not try to do all these fancy financial instruments." — Speaking at a private fundraiser and surreptitiously recorded by a reporter with the footage subsequently leaked on various news outlets, Houston, Texas, July 18, 2008[19]
P.S. I would very nearly move there anyway just to grow morbidly obese on BBQ.
Bush
Christian fanatics
Tornadoes
BBQ
Blinding humidity
Raging lunatic Republicans
Bush
Inadequate educations
Big Hair
Waco
NRA
Bible belt
Dallas Cowboys
Obesity (minus the above's cheerleaders)
Hurricanes
Aaaaaaaaand time.
Now, before you say, "but Lindsay, you've never been to Texas," I'm going to say this: I've never been to the Gaza Strip, but I don't fancy living there either.
This is not the time to dive into politics or religion, no, no. I don't want people to think I'm misunderestimating their intelligence by using any loquaciously sneaky strategery. I will take higher ground, literally, because I heard somewhere that if you can't say something nice, talk about the weather.
Shoot, they say a picture is worth a thousand words, let's save some ink. I will leave you with Bush quotes, talking in, or about, Texas. The first picture is of the 342 category 3-5 tornadoes in Texas from 1950-2008, the second is of the hurricanes that have hit Texas from 1886-1996 (ergo, not including the last 14 years):
.bmp)
"There's an old saying in Tennessee — I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee — that says, fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can't get fooled again." —Nashville, Tenn., Sept. 17, 2002
"There's no question about it. Wall Street got drunk -- that's one of the reasons I asked you to turn off the TV cameras -- it got drunk and now it's got a hangover. The question is how long will it sober up and not try to do all these fancy financial instruments." — Speaking at a private fundraiser and surreptitiously recorded by a reporter with the footage subsequently leaked on various news outlets, Houston, Texas, July 18, 2008[19] P.S. I would very nearly move there anyway just to grow morbidly obese on BBQ.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Little Einstein
What is illiterate, wears Elmo undies and costs nearly as much to send to pre-school for a year as it would a 19-year-old valedictorian with a penchant for quantum physics to an Ivy League university? That would be my three-in-September-year old.
Let's just look at the facts (if not the math, which has never been my strength -- read it people: B.A. in Spanish).
Princeton, Yale, Stanford: $35,000-$38,000 annual tuition
The University of Oregon: $7,500 annual tuition
Jersey City Montessori Toddler program: $18,800 base annual tuition
Extended day (7:30am-6pm): add $4,200
Application fee: $75
Non-refundable tuition deposit: $1,500
Materials fee: $300
Insurance fee: 1.76% of base tuition (in our case, $3,300)
One-time, new-family fee: $1,000
Grand total: $29,175.
Here I would like to add that according to Montessori, the optimum number of kids per class is 36.
Check my math, please. Because no matter how I add that up, I can't figure out how it costs as much to send my 3-year-old boy (who gets excited by the color blue, and finding and eating yesterday's Cheerio under the couch) to school for one year as it cost me to get an undergraduate degree.
Don't get me wrong, there is a lot of hand-holding and nose-wiping at college. I read a great Time Magazine article about "helicopter parents," the ones who hover over their pre-adult children -- even sleeping on dorm-room floors! -- instead of kicking them out of a still-rolling car near the admissions building. But still!
There's so much that bothers me about paying $30,000 per year for Montessori. Not least of which is that my mom owned and operated Montessori schools for years in the '70s and '80s and never saw this kind of money. NEVER.
What I've not mentioned yet is the school above has something like 45 days of vacation, so working parents have to find a nanny or camp to cover those days. I'm going to attempt more math. The going rate for a nanny is $15/hr, assuming an 8-hour day, times 45 days: $5,400. On top of $29K plus.
In other words, were I willing to work purely to put the kid in school, I'd have to earn something like $50,000 just to break even. That's not one dollar of take-home salary. Not one pair on new shoes for mama. Now, I may be some country hick from Podunk, Oregon, but where's the logic in that? Why would I kill myself at a job I probably wouldn't like to come home with nothing at the end of the day -- other than my beautiful child being raised by someone else?
Surely you noticed you have to pay your own kid's insurance costs (wha?), but did you notice the $300 in materials, ie. Crayons, construction paper, and Elmer's glue?
What in the name of tarnation does $23,000 in tuition cover if not a little glitter? I ask you.
Einstein went to Princeton, but did he go to Montessori? I doubt it. However, maybe I don't have to be concerned about selling my organs to put Cam in school as it appears he was channeling genius from a few weeks old:
Then again, Cam may go a different route all together:
Monday, February 1, 2010
The Shining
Our building, The Beacon, is an art-deco hospital built in the 1930s. At one time it was the largest hospital in the U.S. and is in the same league as the Empire State building architecturally speaking. The hospital closed in 2004, but seven of the ten buildings look like they were abandoned not long after they were built -- as at present, they are barely standing, derelict in nature and burned out in general.
Two buildings have been beautifully restored and turned into apartments, and one building is wired and eagerly awaiting buyers interested in entire-floor apartments that they can build to suit for a few million dollars and $2K/mo or more in maintenance fees. Owners have been promised work on the other buildings will begin promptly -- as soon as the economy is a good little economy and remembers to take its uppers. Plans are set for restaurants, members' only bar, shopping, play areas...all they have to do is displace hundreds of people living in the projects next door; tear down the buildings that have housed some of Jersey City's worst drug offenders, and that have seen more shootings than you can shake a stolen gun at; pave and rebuild.
May I suggest a cleverly placed Starbucks or Crate&Barrel? They could call the newly reclaimed real estate Gentrifica. Yuppie Plaza. Perhaps create the mental image of our own nation within Jersey City: Nolongerafraidtoleavethebeaconcompoundonfoot-ia?
As it is, a lot of work and a lot of money is needed before this area's rep recovers from its terminally ill prognosis.
All the historical stuff aside, the first two times we viewed this place, all I could think of was The Shining. Apart from the guys at the front door and desk, we didn't see a single, solitary soul. Totally quiet, other than my flip-flops flip-flopping. I found out later they shot a Verizon TV commercial here spoofing the movie but raving about their coverage, which is pretty funny since I have Verizon and I get next to zero reception in the building.
Cam has learned to pedal his bike and I have found great joy in freaking out people in the halls ever since.
Two buildings have been beautifully restored and turned into apartments, and one building is wired and eagerly awaiting buyers interested in entire-floor apartments that they can build to suit for a few million dollars and $2K/mo or more in maintenance fees. Owners have been promised work on the other buildings will begin promptly -- as soon as the economy is a good little economy and remembers to take its uppers. Plans are set for restaurants, members' only bar, shopping, play areas...all they have to do is displace hundreds of people living in the projects next door; tear down the buildings that have housed some of Jersey City's worst drug offenders, and that have seen more shootings than you can shake a stolen gun at; pave and rebuild.
May I suggest a cleverly placed Starbucks or Crate&Barrel? They could call the newly reclaimed real estate Gentrifica. Yuppie Plaza. Perhaps create the mental image of our own nation within Jersey City: Nolongerafraidtoleavethebeaconcompoundonfoot-ia?
As it is, a lot of work and a lot of money is needed before this area's rep recovers from its terminally ill prognosis.
All the historical stuff aside, the first two times we viewed this place, all I could think of was The Shining. Apart from the guys at the front door and desk, we didn't see a single, solitary soul. Totally quiet, other than my flip-flops flip-flopping. I found out later they shot a Verizon TV commercial here spoofing the movie but raving about their coverage, which is pretty funny since I have Verizon and I get next to zero reception in the building.
Cam has learned to pedal his bike and I have found great joy in freaking out people in the halls ever since.
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