Raccoons!

When I started officially working "in the museum field" five or so years ago, I stopped making art at the same time. It wasn't a coincidence. I find it hard to go back and forth between a day job and art (or writing, which I kind of lump into the same category). My camera got packed away along with my enlarger*. Chemicals** sat on shelves, reacted, leaked from bottles. Rolls of exposed film*** lay forgotten in drawers. But with unemployment looming, all of a sudden I'm feeling creative again. Last week, in a fit of optimism, I loaded up my camera with some Ilford and headed to the local cemetery to shoot some creepy lady sculptures I had seen there the week before. I deliberately left my digital camera at home so I wouldn't be tempted to use it.

Of course, that turned out to be a big mistake. While roaming the cemetery with my friend Robin, we happened upon a family of raccoons. They were very curious about us, which I guess is the difference between city raccoons and country raccoons. Luckily, Robin brought along her digital camera and took the following photo:



* Equipment used in olden times to make photographs from film (see below).
** Liquid potions used by magicians to make pretty pictures appear on photographic paper.
*** This crazy old stuff once put in cameras to record images.

Tent City Downtown

There were tent cities before the stock market crashed. I remember visiting Baltimore with a group in graduate school and getting a tour of the historic district from one of the city officials. This particular official took us by an encampment on our way back to the city hall. He talked about how sympathetic he was to the homeless, but then talked about what a "problem" these people present to tourism. I remember looking over at the small, quiet encampment and thinking, "What problem?"

The current most talked about tent city is probably the one in Sacramento. NPR interviewed someone about it the other day who also talked about being sympathetic, but then in the next sentence said that Sacramento needed to adopt a "zero tolerance policy" against these encampments. Frankly, these city officials who can go from being sympathetic to intolerant in one breath strike me as a bit slimy. I read on a certain website recently that the tent city folks in Sacramento "are offered shelters but they are receiving SSI and DO NOT want to go to a shelter where they'd have to NOT drink and dope up. All their friends are in the homeless camps and they have the freedom to be as degenerate as they want. The shelters have rules and regulations on behavior, which is such a bummer, man." Riiiighhht. Even if that were true, I honestly can't blame a guy for preferring the freedom of living in his own tent to sharing a bunk in a shelter. I know I would probably go for the tent myself. This idea of land ownership, that this land belongs to the city and therefore the citizens have no right to live on it, is one that honestly bothers me. I understand the need for land ownership in some ways, but there is something about it that has always annoyed me. Doesn't this planet belong to all of us equally? I've always felt like there should be a way to opt out. I'm not saying these folks in Sacramento are opting out--many of them are not there by choice--but I don't see the problem with tent cities aside from the fact that it means we are not as neighbors providing viable alternatives to people on hard times. I wonder what would happen if cities made official encampment areas, installed public showers and restrooms, hired security guards, and let people who needed to camp there for free. It burns me up to no end that most people who oppose tent cities do so because they are "unsightly." Poor, poor you. It must be really hard to have to have to witness poverty from the comfort of your SUV or scotch-guarded sofa.

I was talking to our cousin recently about how we need to acknowledge the ugly and the negative in ourselves and the world. We both feel like optimism has a place, but we get frustrated when optimism crowds out realism, when it prevents us from being honest with ourselves about what we are experiencing or what is happening in the world. Bishop Robinson, in a prayer that was sadly not broadcast prior to Obama's inauguration concert, really spoke to this need for honesty. People were outraged, not so much at the fact that a gay bishop gave the prayer, but because his prayer was so "negative" at a time when people felt there was only room for the positive. But I loved the prayer, because it really touched on the things that motivate many of us to live the way we live, although we can always do better. Here is an excerpt:

O God of our many understandings, we pray that you will…

Bless us with tears – for a world in which over a billion people exist on less than a dollar a day, where young women from many lands are beaten and raped for wanting an education, and thousands die daily from malnutrition, malaria, and AIDS.

Bless us with anger – at discrimination, at home and abroad, against refugees and immigrants, women, people of color, gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people.

Bless us with discomfort – at the easy, simplistic “answers” we’ve preferred to hear from our politicians, instead of the truth, about ourselves and the world, which we need to face if we are going to rise to the challenges of the future.

Bless us with patience – and the knowledge that none of what ails us will be “fixed” anytime soon, and the understanding that our new president is a human being, not a messiah.

Bless us with humility – open to understanding that our own needs must always be balanced with those of the world.

Bless us with freedom from mere tolerance – replacing it with a genuine respect and warm embrace of our differences, and an understanding that in our diversity, we are stronger.

Bless us with compassion and generosity – remembering that every religion’s God judges us by the way we care for the most vulnerable in the human community, whether across town or across the world.

Where Are the Fabertids?

**Edited 3/25**

Okay, so I keep waiting for a more appropriate time to give an adoption update. Like, maybe when something has actually happened. But I'm exploding with impatience this week. How very modern, right? I mean, we're able to do this amazing thing that might not have been possible not all that long ago, and yet I'm complaining about it taking so long. Let's just say no one has ever described me as patient.

We started the adoption process prior to any ticking clock issues, which was a good thing. Luckily we're not yet at the panic point. If I were feeling all reproductive right now, I'd likely be inconsolable. But as it is, I go from really enjoying the no-baby lifestyle to tears in zero seconds because I see a baby in the metro, or hold a friend's kid, or spot a memorable children's book in the nursery. I can't help but roll my eyes at myself. I can only hope dark chocolate and a good scotch can help solve this problem.

So where are we in the process? Well, our home study is done. As in done done, written up and everything. We imagine USCIS will receive a nice little package with our names on it any day now. So for the moment, you can all pray the office in Vermont is moving through I-600a applications at lightning speed. We have done all the paperwork we need for our dossier. The last thing we need is approval from USCIS, then our paperwork will be all ready to go to Ethiopia. USCIS can take anywhere from weeks to months to review a case, though, so it is hard to say when that will happen. We are hoping to have a referral (which just means we've been matched with children) by the end of the year if we're really, really fortunate. There's a pretty good chance our kids will manage to avoid winter in Quebec all together. Lucky them! There is no particular reason to think anything will go wrong, but we have learned that even seemingly simple things can turn out to be very difficult in this process.

In other news, we're thinking we are probably going to break down and tell you all what we're naming the Fabertids. Why? Because keeping the names a secret for another year is going to be hard. And also because we want to get prepared to share our lives with real people. It's pretty easy after a year of paperwork to forget that all of this will result in actual babies living in our house. But before we call our publicist, we thought we'd let you all weigh in. Here's your big chance to throw in your two cents.

What should we name the babies? What should we definitely NOT name the babies? Tell us your ideas in the comments section below or on the Zonkboard to the right. Don't worry about offending us, either. We're pretty certain that whatever name you think is just awful is not going to be a name we've picked. However, if one of the names we go with is one you suggested, you'll win a prize. We're not sure what the prize will be. Maybe a nice bottle of maple syrup. Or a box of snow.

**A few people have pointed out something that I forgot to mention. Our children will already have names that they were given in Ethiopia. We are planning on keeping at least one of those names, and may choose to call them by that name. We're not deciding that until after we have a referral. In some ways, you might think this makes the choosing of a name more important, but we feel like it takes some pressure off of us. They will already have names that are part of who they are, whether they or we like the names or not. We just get to give them second names if we want to that have meaning for us. It's a purely selfish endeavor in many ways. Honestly, they'll decide who they are themselves when they are old enough. I could go into how this ties in with our whole parenting philosophy, but that's a whole can of worms I'm not about to open up on this website. At least not yet.**

Balloons, Parade, Rumbledethumps

Xander and I hate balloons. Especially the helium-filled kind. Oh, I know. We're just horrible people who can't have any fun, right? All that tree hugging and granola eating business has gone to our heads. But I fail to understand why an adult goes to the trouble to obtain a helium-filled balloon for a child when there's a 99.9% chance the child will let that balloon go, either accidentally or on purpose, and when it is quite likely to end up in a river or ocean or lake or tree. We're not big fans of balloons in general, especially when there are so many more creative ways to decorate, but the helium ones really burn us up. We think balloons should be a very, very rare treat and that there's pretty much no need to fill them with helium. There are plenty of other ways to distract children (like scaring them with puppets--see below). Here's a link:

Balloons As Litter

Anyway, this is on my mind because I saw several green balloons released this past weekend at Montreal's St. Patrick's Day Parade. We went with some friends and their adorable son. The parade crowd was a little much for the wee one, so we escaped to the upper level of a nearby cafe and watched from the window. Later, we all went back to our place for rumbledethumps, split pea soup, and apple cake. Beer was drunk. A child was traumatized by a puppet. Robin and Brett came over and played Munchkin with us. Our neighbors called to say their new son was born. Good times.

Le cimetière Notre-Dame-des-Neiges a Montréal

Last weekend, we visited the Le cimetière Notre-Dame-des-Neiges on Mont Royal. It was a cold but beautiful day, and we had a great time admiring some of the traditional monuments and puzzling over the stranger ones. Here's a pictorial summary:

The One Where Some Bitch Yells at an Old Lady on the Metro

Um, right. So that bitch was me. Yes, I've sunk to new lows. I blame it on winter (and maybe just a little bit on my husband for bringing us here). It went a little something like this:

It was the morning rush hour and the train was really, really crowded. The kind of crowded where your face is stuck in someone else's armpit. I was sandwiched among a young woman and two large men. On the metro cars here there are very few things for a short person to hold on to. Most of the time the trains run smoothly and there's no threat of death if you happen to be stuck in no-man's land without a handle. But when there is a sudden stop, it can be hard to remain on your feet even if you are holding onto something. I refuse to ride the metro without holding onto something. It's just not worth the risk of a broken face to me.

Anyway, there I was, my face in an armpit and clinging to the one bit of pole I was able to reach when Old Lady decided she was ready to get off the train and stood up from her seat, which I might add was a mere three feet from the door. Only the train was still moving, and the path to the door was blocked by several people, including me. Old Lady said, "Excusez," which par custom comes out sounding like, "Skoozay." I acknowledged her, but stayed put as the train was still moving. To get out of her way would have involved letting go of the handle, pushing the surrounding disgruntled people into still other disgruntled people, and likely finding myself without support during that all-important braking period in which one is most likely to end up with a broken arm. Old Lady persisted, saying "excusez" louder and gesturing toward the door. "Un moment," I replied politely but firmly. Yet still Old Lady persisted, because she was in such a rush and clearly felt she was more important than the rest of us. "There's nowhere to go," I said. Old Lady offered me her now vacant seat, which was kind except that there was no way to get to the seat as the train was packed with people. I finally lost my patience with Old Lady and shouted, in English no less, "I'll move in a minute when the train stops!" The problem was no one else heard the previous interactions, so to all others it looked like some nice old lady requested to get off the train and this bitch just chewed her out. They all stared incredulously. When the train finally stopped, I stepped off the train to let everyone off (something few people bother to do here), then stepped back on. I felt pretty awful for the rest of the morning. It turns out being a bitch doesn't feel so good. Yes, Old Lady was being pushy and rude, but I also tend to believe that by the time a person has survived that long, they're permitted to be a little demanding and the rest of us should just humor them in the hopes that someone will humor us when we turn old and grouchy.

What Old Lady didn't know was that she's about the hundredth person to do this to me since we've moved here. Xander and I have both independently observed that a large portion of the people we interact with on the daily commute seem to be utterly bewildered that they live in a city and there are--gasp!--other people here as well. Montreal is sprawling and not very crowded most of the time, so our theory is that people are fairly isolated for most of their days, either at home or at work, and so they never really learn how to navigate crowds well. There's no rhythm to the daily commute. It's a free-for-all every morning and evening. At least once every day I am shoved aside by some man who thinks he's more important than I am. There are always at least three or four people who nearly knock me over because they are walking one direction while staring in another. Then there are the young men who won't offer their seats to the elderly or pregnant. Really and truly, despite what everyone thinks about New York, I would happily give up my new commute for my old one if it were possible to bend the laws of time and space.

We've decided we'd like to offer metro riding lessons to the public for free. Courses would include Stepping Off: How to Let People Off the Train and Still Get Where You're Going, Moving to the Center: An Efficient Technique for Creating Space in a Metro Car, How to Win Friends and Influence People on the Metro, Look Before You Walk, and How to Identify the Elderly and Very Pregnant.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Today is the day to find your inner Irish. It's a day to celebrate our connection to other people and to the Earth. And it is also a good day to remember that a single person has the ability to change the course of an entire people.


There's no way to know if St. Patrick actually wrote or spoke the following, but I like it all the same:

I bind to myself today
The power of Heaven,
The light of the sun,
The brightness of the moon,
The splendour of fire,
The flashing of lightning,
The swiftness of wind,
The depth of sea,
The stability of earth,
The compactness of rocks.

Editing the Playlist

iTunes has this new feature called Genius. You can highlight a song in your list of music and hit the "Genius" button, which will create a playlist for you of songs that are similar to the one you highlighted. Sometimes the Genius is not so smart. For instance, I highlighted a song by Nirvana and it suggested songs by Spinal Tap. Not exactly a perfect match, unless you consider Nirvana to be funny, which no doubt some people do. Me? I'm angsty enough to take Nirvana seriously. Anyway, using Genius also brought up a few songs by Aimee Mann that I really dislike. Something about the warbling whininess of a couple of her songs grates on my nerves. It also brought up some particularly angry-sounding stuff by Wyclef that also rubs me the wrong way. But I keep them in my music, because I guess I think one day my tastes might change and I'll like them again. And I don't want to have to buy the songs again if that happens.

Thinking about editing my music playlist made me think about my people playlist. I think we probably all have people in our lives that get us down or that we keep failing to get along with for one reason or another. I tend to keep these people around just in case I've misunderstood them, thinking we'll eventually figure each other out, but lately I've started to wonder why I stay in touch with people that get me down. It might be because I'm a spineless namby-pamby. Or maybe I'm really just so incredibly nice that I can't bear to break up. Or maybe it's because I'm just self-centered enough to believe these people even care whether or not I keep in touch. I'm not sure. But editing my playlist is something I have been thinking about a lot over the last week.

The truth is, sometimes I wish I had nerves of steel. I have interactions almost daily with people--some strangers and some not--that are clearly not thinking about how their words and/or actions affect other people. Part of the time I am angry at them. The rest of the time I wish I could be more like them. And I think this is why I tend to keep in touch with nearly everyone I ever meet, because even people who obviously have no care for me at all are appealing in that they have characteristics I lack and can learn from. I'm a sensitive, serious, sentimental schmuck at heart. This would be a great characteristic to have if it came with an off switch. Some days I wish I could muss my hair, throw on something made of leather and metal and instantly become a bad-ass bitch. But the closest I will probably ever come to being a villain is watching superhero films and listening to Nine Inch Nails on my iPod.

There's one villain who will always remain in my playlist, and that would be this fat orange fellow right here:


I thought my internet break would last longer, but it turns out that I write whether I intend to or not. My self-imposed internet silence made me realize I compose essays constantly in my head all the time. Writing is just a side-effect. It's probably a result of that sensitivity nonsense I mentioned earlier.

Maple-Chocolate Pecan Pie

I had to post this recipe. I grew up in Georgia, where pecans are the nut of choice just behind the peanut. I had the not-so-original idea to make maple pecan pie this last year for Thanksgiving. It's the perfect marriage of two regional staples and became an instant classic in our house. I also love that this recipe doesn't require the use of corn syrup.

As an additional note, you know you're living in Canada when you have not one but TWO kinds of maple syrup in the house. I used our less-expensive maple syrup* in this recipe.

The Crust:

1 c. whole wheat flour
1/2 c. rolled oats
1/4 c. oil
2 tbsp. maple syrup
1 large handful dark chocolate chips

Mix it together (except chocolate), form into a ball, wrap it up in wax paper, and chill in the fridge for half an hour. (I'm pretty sure I could make a crust using just ground oats instead of flour, but I haven't tried that, yet.) You can roll it out with a rolling pin or press it out with your hands into a pie plate. Next, I sprinkle the bottom with chocolate chips, put the crust in the oven at 350 for 10 minutes, and use a spoon to spread the now-melted chocolate around the crust. Then I pour in the filling.

The Filling:

3 eggs
1 cup maple syrup
1/2 cup light brown sugar
2 tablespoons melted butter
1 1/4 cups pecan pieces or halves

Beat eggs. Add in maple syrup, sugar, and butter and beat well. Stir in pecans. Pour into pie crust. Bake at 350 for 35 to 45 minutes.

Eat. And thank God for taste buds.

*And by "less-expensive maple syrup," I do not mean pancake syrup, that chemical creation that is ubiquitous in American grocery stores. If you own that stuff, do yourself a favor and throw it out. Then go to the store and buy yourself some real maple syrup.

Silence

Hello, my five or six loyal readers! This is just a quick post to say I am taking a much-needed break from the internet for a bit. Whereas sometimes I feel like the internet provides creative inspiration, lately I have felt like it's sucking it right out of me. I imagine I will be back in a week or two once I've got some projects going.

In the meantime, I found a very useful video to help you all remain productive:

MELTING

Ohmigod, Internet, I can see a patch of grass outside our house now. As in, the many feet of snow outside are starting to melt. We've had three days of above-freezing weather now, but today was the first day we had full sunshine. It was 37 degrees and sunny! We were ecstatic. We celebrated by refusing to wear long underwear and walking nearly every inch of Montreal in regular shoes, exclaiming every 120 seconds, "I can't believe how warm it is today!" We climbed Mont Royal. We walked through the Old Town. We walked up Saint Denis. It was glorious.

That's right, Georgians. 37 degrees is warm. Funny how your perspective on warm changes when you move to the arctic.

Sure, we'll probably have another snow or two, but we finally got a break from the cold. I feel like I might actually survive the winter after all.

Regard la neige!

There are countless videos on YouTube related to winter in Quebec. Here are a few favorites:

Where is Your Hat, You Fool?

Feeling a bit chilly? Wish March were a little warmer? I've got one thing to say to you:

WEAR A HAT!

Don't have one? Not a problem. Stop by my dear friend Molly's new craft shop, Very Sage, to pick one up. Not only will it keep you warm, but you'll also be putting money in the pocket of a broke, do-gooder law student working her way up to becoming a broke, do-gooder, non-profit lawyer. (That's right. Not all lawyers are rich.)

And in case you are thinking Molly's work looks familiar, it's because she kindly donated a few of her hats to Molasses last year. Her artfully constructed newsboy cap is much coveted in the five boroughs. Really. You want one.

New York Again . . . A Few Days Late

I wrote the following on Monday, but then got the flu, so I'm only getting around to finishing this post now.

It's Monday morning, and Xander just left to administer a midterm to his students. They're all returning from "reading week," which is the dumbest name for spring break I have ever heard. I'm pretty sure no college student spends the week reading anything other than the price tags on the cases of beer they consume while lounging at the beach. Anyway, before the "reading week," they all got a lecture about how they had better be back in time for their midterm on Monday morning. Famous last words, right?

We just got home from New York this morning, but that almost didn't happen. Yesterday afternoon, we were hanging out with John, Dana, and Joyce when they casually mentioned something about a foot of snow. Uh, what? Xander had the good sense to suggest that we head down to the bus station early to see if we could get out of the city before the blizzard. We went down to Port Authority (also known as the seventh circle of hell) and waited in line for the bus to Montreal. But when we got to the front of the line, the agent told us our ticket was only good for a later bus and that we'd have to wait. We stepped aside and watched everyone else board. After everyone else had boarded, the agents began talking to each other about the fact that the later buses might be canceled due to the pending blizzard, totally ignoring the fact that we were standing right there. Just as we were starting to panic, the driver, the nicest man in Manhattan, came back inside to say that he had room for a few more. We grabbed our tickets and rushed to get on the bus. As we were pulling out of New York, the driver said, "I have one more announcement, ladies and gentlemen. The rest of the buses for today were canceled, so you are the lucky ones." And sure enough, no sooner had we escaped the city than it was hit by the blizzard.

Anyway, while we were in town we got to see all kinds of people we love, including our friends Greg and Michele who were in town from Paris. We also got to visit Anna and her most charming munchkins and saw a whole host of other good friends at the brewery. (Special thanks to Molly for letting us crash on her futon.) We were so busy that we mostly forgot to take photographs. It was also a baby-laden weekend. I was completely intimidated. I'm still not sure I'm going to have any idea what to do with my kids once I have them. But Xander is a natural. If there's a baby in sight, he's very likely to snatch him or her right up and have them laughing in seconds. Thank God one of us isn't scared.

The skinny buildings at Bleecker and Lafayette


One of the infamous multi-level parking lots


Dessert Truck!



Movies (and plays, concerts, albums, etc.) are heavily advertised by poster in New York. This is how we found out when the big movies were coming out. It's kind of old-school, really, but we loved it. My dad always talked about how he liked choosing movies by the posters as a kid, and I thought of that every time we found ourselves doing the same in New York.


Play time with Joyce



It's a little-known fact that I have the tastiest fingers on the planet. Judah enjoyed sampling them as well, only we forgot to take pictures as evidence. But Judah's approach was pretty much the same as Joyce's, seen here:


Shenanigans with Lucie


Greg, Michele, Xander, and Lucie try to order take out using Skype


We also had an early birthday celebration at the Brooklyn Brewery, because celebrating a birthday with your best friends is always the way to go. Beer, cupcakes, and pizza. What more does a girl need?

Having been denied beer, Lucie anxiously watches her mom prepare her lunch.


Random children sing happy birthday in exchange for cupcakes. The little boy was so excited when we opened the box of chocolate cupcakes that he let out a loud shriek and started clapping his hands. It was so cute. Man, did that make us miss our yet-to-be-had children!


Brian got Deb some excellent sunglasses, just in case she needed them.


Sarah pretends to be candid.


Happy (early) birthday to me!

The Economic Crisis for Dummies

If you don't listen to This American Life, even though I've told you time and again that you should, this week is a good week to check it out. They dedicated the entire program to the financial crisis and explained it in a way that even I could understand. You can listen to this podcast and feel informed enough to basically ignore everything else about it for awhile. And let me tell you something: In case you weren't already worried, this is some scary stuff. SCARY. Listen up.

Bad Bank

The collapse of the banking system explained, in just 59 minutes. Our crack economics team—the guys who explained the mortgage crisis, Alex Blumberg and NPR’s Adam Davidson—are back to help all of us understand the news. For instance, when we talk about an insolvent bank, what does it actually mean, and why are we giving hundreds of billions of dollars to rich bankers who screwed up their own businesses? Also, two guys go to New Jersey to look at a toxic asset.

The scariest bit came near the end, when an economist talked about his research comparing household debt and GDP, saying:

The problem is us. The problem is not the banks, greedy though they may be, overpaid though they may be. The problem is us... We've been living very high on the hog. Our living standard has been rising dramatically in the last 25 years. And we have been borrowing much of the money to make that prosperity happen.

The amount of household debt we have in the US currently equals our GDP. The last time debt equaled GDP? 1929.

Sappy Love Stuff

I only recently saw this, thanks to my friend Amber. I don't really like Keith Olbermann that much, which is probably why I didn't see this when the statement was made in November. But I really liked this video because Olbermann does a good job of summing up how I feel about the situation. Everyone knows how I feel about my marriage. It's pretty much awesome. Not every day, mind you, but in general I'd say I get a whole lot of strength from my relationship with Xander. I can't fathom ever wanting to deny the possibility of that to anyone, ever. Whatever you think about gay marriage, I'd spare six minutes to listen to the video and maybe a few minutes more to reflect on it.