Saturday, November 12, 2016

My Discontent

I have kept myself pretty insulated since the election. I couldn’t watch Hillary’s concession speech, I could barely read the transcript from Obama’s post-election speech, and of course I avoided anything about that man. I was able to get on Twitter for an hour or so the other day and retweet the Onion or Ricky Gervais or anything that approximated what I was maybe feeling except that I refused to actually feel. Yesterday night, I finally broke down and cried. I watched Sam Bee’s pre and post-election specials and I cried. I feel sad, and anxious, and shocked. However, after also watching Keith Olbermann’s latest bit on GQ and after seeing the media, who I hold almost entirely responsible for providing this man with anything approaching legitimacy, trying to now normalize this event, wrap it with a bow, and still make a case for the decency of the American people, the feeling I most felt was anger. Good. Anger. I can work with that and make it productive.

There are so many facets to the results of this election, that I feel like the best way now to organize my head, vent, and to figure out what to do next was to mind-dump everything here. I haven’t decided if I am going to publish this on my blog. My first inclination was to keep this personal to keep it more honest, but now I am leaning towards publishing it because I no longer feel the need to censor myself, and I no longer care what anyone thinks about what I have to say. If I am feeling this way, it is valid.

Electoral College – I’m talking about this first because it is the easiest. The people did not elect that man, the system elected that man. Yes, it’s a technicality. Yes, it’s a minor point out of the others I am going to make, but now that Paul punch-face Ryan is calling this election a Republican MANDATE, it is still a point to make. We need to get rid of the electoral college because in this case as in the case of Al Gore in 2000, it does not reflect the will of the people, which means that technically this was not a democratic election. The electoral college is antiquated and it doesn’t work, and Paul Ryan can take that mandate and stick it up his ass. There is work being done here. For those of you that care, check this out – this is a BI-PARTISAN effort. http://www.democracynow.org/2016/11/8/beyond_the_electoral_college_a_state

The Other – I am embarrassed to be a white person in America right now. The fact that I am also a woman doesn’t matter because white women also turned out a majority vote for that man. I completely reject the fact that this is a problem of the liberal-elite urban class failing to recognize the struggles of the white working-class rural and ex-urban Americans. In fact, I think rural America fails to see the struggles of our diverse cities and fails to understand what being of color in this country truly means. Being white has bestowed upon them the greatest privilege that can be bestowed upon a person in this country. They did NOTHING to earn this privilege. Rural and ex-urban America has insulated itself from reality, whipped themselves into a frenzy of Rush Limbaugh, Fox News, and Breitbart hate, and now wants to point to black and brown people as being somehow responsible for their plight. This fear of the Other is not based in reality. There is no Other. There is only humanity. Regardless of color, we are all people with mothers and fathers, with capacity for love and kindness. We are all trying to achieve the same dream. The system rural, white America constantly votes for, and the billionaire they just elected isn’t going to do anything to help them or anyone else achieve this. He doesn’t give a shit about them. He’s a sociopath and a con, and he used their deepest and unfounded anxieties to elevate himself to the highest office in our nation. He is now the face of America, and the world is looking on us in pity. I hope someday white America realizes that all humans want the same things – we all want safety, security, and happiness – but we all need to come together to achieve those things, not point fingers at each other. I truly hope that we are better than this, but today I am not only embarrassed to be white, I am embarrassed to be an American.

Hate and the Media – This is the central theme of this election cycle. With the exception of NPR, I no longer have faith in the media in this country. When you put a profit motive on anything, you create impure incentives. When a 24-hour news cycle needs viewers and advertising dollars to justify itself, it will report on whatever sensationalist BS will get people to watch. It will subvert truth if truth doesn’t directly contribute to the bottom line. Sensationalism sells, and what is more sensationalist than hate? This hate environment has been created by the media sources I mention above; Fox News, Breitbart, Rush Limbaugh, Glenn Beck (I don’t care how reformed he claims to be). They’ve spun lies and deceit to make Mexicans, Muslims, Barack Obama, whatever, ENEMIES. That man we elected, he just took advantage of this. As much as I blame those who created this environment, I also blame those who allowed it to exist in order to remain impartial. I blame CNN; I even blame MSNBC. The point of journalism is not to be impartial. The point of journalism is to deliver TRUTH to the PEOPLE. The media, all of them, allowed that train-wreck a stage, a voice, and didn’t do nearly enough to dispel his continuous stream of lies. Why? Because no one can take their eyes off a train-wreck, and if people are watching, then the media and all of their pundits make money. For the time being, I am only listening to NPR and comedy shows, which have somehow been BETTER at the news and truthiness (Guess what? Laughter also sells, and it’s a way better emotion).

I just read this article in Rolling Stone about hate in the media, and there was one thing I could take away from it. 1 – This hate breeds extreme anxiety and it is way more prevalent among conservatives, and 2 – It doesn’t matter who is in office because hate will continue to sell, it’s just going to find a new target. So, conservatives, your news outlet is just going to try and convince you to keep hating, they will try to keep you anxious, and therefore they will keep profiting off your misery. All you have to do is turn it off. The truth is out there in much easier to swallow formats. Please reject hate and reject hate-filled media. Make a friend who is Pakistani or Native American or Mexican. I am happy, and I feel like I am a better person in life because I am surrounded by such a strong, smart, and DIVERSE group of people. I think you can be too.

Religion and Hypocrites – That man also, by virtue of getting the white vote, also got the evangelical, Christian, and Catholic vote. I don’t understand the hypocrisy. I was raised Catholic. My grandfather was one of the kindest and most generous people I have ever known. One year, he told me he was voting Democrat in that year’s election. Now, for those of you who don’t know, this is mostly frowned upon because of, you know, ABORTION (true, but insert huge eye-roll here). He said he was doing so because he thought that Republicans weren’t doing enough to help the poor. Huh what a concept; that maybe one of his religion’s most central concepts – compassion – should be more important than abortion. I’m not saying abortion is not an issue or that people shouldn’t care about it. I’m just saying that when a person votes on a single issue, then they are simultaneously saying that all of the other issues don’t matter. In this case, sanctity of marriage, peace, love, tolerance, and brotherhood are all less important on that punch-ticket to heaven. Who is this Jesus character these Christians are talking about? Because, I’m pretty sure in my 12 years of Catholic schooling and in the model set by my grandfather that compassion was his number one thing. That man and his two Corinthians is an abomination against everything their (remind you, middle-eastern, Jewish) savior taught about love.

Voter Suppression – If the only way Republicans can win is via an electoral college, redistricting, and voter suppression, then they don’t deserve to win, and they don’t deserve to represent America. This is the first election without the full protection of the Voting Rights Act, the first election after 14 states passed restrictive measures to prevent people of color, young people, poor people (i.e. people that tend to vote Democrat) from voting. Guess how many of those states swung blood red in 2016? Yeah. All of them. I don’t care about the exact effect these measures had on the outcome of the election. It doesn’t matter. What matters is the intent, and the intent is to suppress the freedoms inherent in a supposed democratic society. These white lawmakers, again as if being born white isn’t enough of a privilege, are trying to make sure that black people still only count as if they were worth 3/5 a white person. STILL. In 2016. Also, if I hear one more thing about voter fraud, I will implode. It doesn’t exist. Again, it’s another fear whipped up by the rabid, right-wing conspiracy engine to justify white people being racist.

The real discussion needs to be around redistricting and how legislators with their crayons can create these insane maps that may look like some drunken clown’s version of Jackson Pollock. Really, these maps, with surgical precision, piece together individual voters into districts in order to dilute their voice among a larger majority. Historically, this has been done to dilute the voice of racial minorities, but really, with the large amounts of census data available, segregation can be accomplished on any metric – color, age, economic status. Both sides of the political aisle are guilty of this, but as technologies have advanced and more granular data have become available, the effects of redistricting have become most egregious recently with Republicans in charge. This needs to stop at all levels of government. I feel it is a very dangerous practice that will put into place a false and permanent majority in this country. Then no one’s voice will be heard.

Economics and Other Policy Choices – This election was never based on policy. 1 – Because that man is an idiot, and obviously has no idea how the government (the military, foreign policy, the economy, the Federal Reserve, taxes, immigration, a woman’s reproductive organs, and on and on) works, so he 2 – Took policy or any intelligent discussion out of the election in a sort of used-car-salesman, winking, smarmy manner, telling us to trust him before going back to hurling insults and spewing incoherent babble about how big league everything will be once he takes office. What does that even MEAN? Anyone who says they voted for that man based on economic discontent or policy, needs to understand that policy requires a little more thought than building a wall. At least it should go into how that wall will be built and paid for, really. Like, other than by Mexico. And there needs to be complete sentences. And he can’t use the word huge. He doesn’t HAVE ANY POLICIES. Therefore, I question anyone who says to have voted for him based on policy. A little inner reflection is necessary, because you could be as bigoted as he is, and you really voted for him because “Jews control the media!” or “Mexicans took my job!” or “Women belong in the kitchen!” or some other simplistic complaint that at the base of it just shows how ignorant your decision was and how dangerous for this country.

Women and Hillary Clinton – This is where I get the most upset. Let’s talk about Hillary first. Was she an ideal candidate? UGGGHHH. Don’t act like this matters. It doesn’t matter because she is a SHE. She was never going to be ideal (forget ideal, she wasn’t even going to be qualified enough) for white men (and apparently self-hating white women) because women are constantly being held to impossible standards. Hillary Clinton is THE MOST experienced candidate in the history of American elections. She is smart, she is hard-working, and she has the political chops to get stuff done. Does she have baggage? Yes. But it’s baggage that America has heaped upon her at every turn of her life in the public eye. She is the most scrutinized political figure ever to have run for president. First, because she’s been on the national stage for so long, but second, because she is a powerful, female figure and that scares the shit out of less-enlightened men. The establishment has heaped scandal on top of controversy on top of criticism on top of dog shit on this woman for her entire career. Whitewater, keeping her maiden name, hyphenating Rodham-Clinton, having brown hair, having long hair, being too involved in policy in her role as first lady (not being wifey enough), sticking by her husband after Lewinsky (being too wifey), the Clinton Foundation, Benghazi, not smiling enough, raising her voice, the FUCKING EMAILS. Basically, my take on it is if someone has been under the microscope for this fucking long, and the Republicans can STILL find nothing, it’s probably because, surprise, NOTHING IS THERE. They sure gave us a narrative, though, didn’t they? I’m not fooled. This was never about Hillary. This was about her being a smart, powerful woman, which apparently even in the 21st century is still a threat to American masculinity.

Who better to paint the black to the white than our current president elect? That slimy, disgusting, abuser of women – with his beauty pageants, and his mail-order brides, and three wives, and incestuous obsession with his daughter. This isn’t something I learned on election day, but this is something that will be one continuous slap in the face the next four years (even after that man is impeached, because let’s face it, his vice president is no better). That is this – men don’t think women matter, and more a slap in the face, Republican women don’t think women matter… And, even if I knew this before on some level, this election has told us that it is OK to feel that way. I’m so sick of this narrative. First, we shouldn’t try to achieve because we can’t, then we shouldn’t try to achieve because we shouldn’t (it’s not our place), then we shouldn’t try to achieve because our performance will be less, then when our performance is as good or better, we don’t get promoted or paid at the same rates. We are the weaker sex, we have delicate sensibilities, we are too emotional, we are defined by our bodies, all of it bullshit. The strongest people I know in life have been women, and that’s probably because we have to be stronger. We have to go to school, work, have babies, take care of our families, take care of our homes, and do it all with zero complaints and a pretty smile because God forbid we don’t know our place, like Hillary didn’t know hers. Half of this white country voted for him. That means that because I’m white, half of my family and then half of my white friends also voted for him. What does that mean about what they truly think of me? The white people I love – Do they think I’m less of a person? Do they not acknowledge my accomplishments? Are they dismissive of my brain? Do they think I’m less deserving of respect? Is my sister less deserving? Is my mom less deserving? From Hillary’s concession speech – “To all the little girls who are watching this: never doubt that you are valuable and powerful and deserving of every chance in the world to pursue your dreams.” I cry because this needs to be said at all, but I also cry because it doesn’t matter if I or the little girls believe it, it only matters if men believe it.

The Non-Voters – To those of you who declined to vote for President and especially to those of you who declined to vote at all, I am most angry at you. You have a duty as a citizen to educate yourself and to vote. America needed you, and you failed. Turnout this cycle was the lowest it’s been since the 1980s. If you’re going to come out and vote any time, it should be when there’s a sociopathic, fascist ape running. Don’t think you’re better for not having voted for that man when you also didn’t vote for Hillary. The fact that you think this was an exercise in intellectual futility because both sides were so equally weighted with experience, and brains, and fucking sanity that you just couldn’t choose means, to me, that you might as well have chosen him. Also, Gary Johnson is a fucking moron.

I’m going to spend the next few weeks figuring out what to do next. We know Hillary won the popular vote. We know that people are pissed. Now is the time to organize. I’m going to start by writing letters to every Democratic female in the Senate and in the House. Then, I am going to donate to Planned Parenthood. THEN, I am going to figure out how I can help bring us together because the oppressed in this country outnumber Republican white men. We are women, we are LGBT, we are Black Lives Matter, we are people of all colors, we are every spectrum of native and immigrant, and while we still have a voice, we can win. I will never forget how angry and sad I am. I will never get over this, and I will fight for what I think is the best thing about America – diversity, inclusion, and EQUAL OPTIONS in the pursuit of happiness.

In the meantime, I hope our elected Democrat representatives truly do represent us by doing everything in their power to shut this shit down. Obama was elected (with the popular vote) TWICE. Republicans worked in the darkest, most subversive corners of our broken system to thwart progress for EIGHT YEARS. They created the do-nothing Congress. Now, let’s make them try and do something. Let’s try to make them fight and scratch and claw for every concession, even it’s minor, and even if it is something we agree with. The system is broken, and isn’t going to be fixed until the pain is felt by both sides. Good luck with your wall, you fucking asshole.

Keep the anger, but always remember there are things to be happy about. Hell yeah, Tammy Duckworth!






Monday, April 4, 2016

A Blanket's Autobiography

I was born in January of 2015 when Christa, in all her ambition, decided to knit a blanket for her friend, Lindsey’s, baby girl (Aubin) due to arrive in April of that year. I was born as, what is soon to be seen, a naïve idea. I first took form later that month in January in seven skeins of super-soft Merino wool yarn. My colors were heather mauve, creamy off-white, gray, warm beige, and dusty pink – all selected carefully to compliment Aubin’s nursery. My overall design was single strips of color, each in a differing pattern, with the pink and the gray repeated once. I was gorgeous in Christa’s mind and on paper. However, what I eventually became was something else.

As the wool yarn was so fine and delicate, the knitting took much, much, MUCH longer than anticipated (again, the naivety). April came. Aubin was born. I wasn’t even a third finished. Trust me; it wasn’t due to a lack of diligence on Christa’s part. She had been working on me four or five times a week at one to two hour intervals for almost three months. Christa was a hard worker. Christa was just stupid.

After missing the April date, I kind of lingered in this state of teenage angst for the next six months. Christa might have picked me up once or twice a week, again for a one or two hour interval, but it seemed that any progress I made had to literally be unraveled due to Christa’s fumble fingers. There were dropped stitches, there was frayed yarn, and there were misinterpretations of pattern that had to be redone row by row. Various “Knitting for Dummies” videos were bookmarked on YouTube.

In this time period, I also began my travels. I’ve been gently packaged away and carried all over the place. I haven’t seen much – just the inside of a suitcase and the insides of various living spaces. Still, I think it’s important to note where I’ve been. Most of my life, I’ve been in North Carolina, obviously, but I’ve also been on car trips back to Bloomington, Illinois. Two of them, actually, which means I’ve also been in hotels in Ohio and West Virginia. I’ve seen at least one hotel room in Chicago. I faintly remember being in Louisville, though I can’t quite solidify the memory. My most fateful trip was one to Indianapolis, but more on that later. So, I’ve only known maybe seven different cities, spread out across about as many states. However, I’m still very, very young, so I consider myself somewhat worldly.

Around the end of last year, let’s say December-ish, Christa was struck with an anxiety attack. She realized that Aubin’s 1st birthday, which had originally been a comfortable goal for completing me (after missing the actual birth DAY), was now only four months away. I was about half done, but considering Christa’s track record, four months was not a lot of time. She kicked it back into high gear. I was again getting attention nearly every day. Things were moving. Things were shaking. I was within realization.

Then. Indianapolis.

This was February 2016, and Christa had been buzzing along for a good two months now. I was maybe two thirds of the way done, but there hadn’t been as many mistakes and unravelings. The end was in sight! Christa once again gingerly packed me away for a trip to Indianapolis to see her manfriend. She was at the airport in Raleigh. Because of the late flight, she had some time to kill. She began to pull me from her suitcase. She pulled gingerly, but she pulled from the wrong end of the knitting needle. Before she knew what was happening, I had collapsed onto myself. I was more than one half off of the needle and stitches were dropping a third of the way down. I was coming apart.

Christa panicked. She decided to secure the needle the best she could and put me away until she could be in a better lit and less crowded space so I could be spread out and examined thoroughly for a remedy. We got to the hotel in Indy and Christa tearfully told Doug (the manfriend) what happened. He asked to see the damage, but Christa was terrified at this point that if she moved me at all, I would be completely destroyed.

It is here that I should make note of the “village” that raised me. The saying “it takes a village to raise a child” is most definitely true when it comes to me. Christa is a novice, so she’s needed a bit of help along the way. First, there’s Doug, the support system. Doug didn’t help in any physical way, but he’s heard about me day in and day out, through all of the aches and pains. Second, there’s Christa’s mom, Cathy, who functioned as a secondary support system. She didn’t have to hear about me very often, but she had to hear about me enough to want me to just be finished already. Finally, there were all of the amazing women Christa tried to consult in a desperate attempt to make everything OK after Indianapolis – Christa’s grandma (Mary Ann), Doug’s mom (Marilee), Christa’s aunt (Jan), Christa’s stepmom (Della). Basically anyone who was a relative of Christa who might have even THOUGHT about knitting or crocheting at some point in her life was contacted for help. However, it was Mary Ann and Marilee who would give Christa the encouragement to move past the loss and finish me.

I was fully unraveled after Indianapolis. There was no saving me. Now, with only two months left and with some encouragement from Marilee, Christa decided to switch to crocheting. She was told crocheting was MUCH faster than knitting, though the stitches were a little more difficult. A new pattern was found, and new yarns were selected. I kept the same color scheme, but my yarn was now much stronger and easier to work with. I am now brown, gray, magenta, cream, and pink – stronger, brighter colors. Christa got to work, and Marilee was right, crocheting was much, much, MUCH faster. In less than one month, Christa accomplished more than she had in one year knitting me. There were still issues. Since this was Christa’s first time crocheting, I look a little unkempt. Some of my stitches are uneven. In a suggestion from Mary Ann, I have a sort of crooked border around me to even up my sides, which appeared to narrow as my row after row, my stitches became more sure and tight. Also, the wavy pattern I was supposed to be didn’t come out right, so I look a little simple. There are little tufts of yarn where the ends weren’t woven in quite right.



I may not be the most beautiful blanket. In fact, I know I am not the most beautiful blanket. In a word, I look pretty homeless. However, I am willing to bet that as much love went into making me that has ever gone into making anything. Part of the reason I am here is because Christa is simultaneously naive in her ambition, OCD, and unwilling to give up. However, the bigger part of the reason I am here is because Christa loves Lindsey, Christa loves Aubin, and Christa wanted her to have something special.

After reading my story, there is one last thing I wanted to say to Lindsey. You don’t have to love me. You don’t have to cherish me. All I ask is that for Christa’s sanity, you PRETEND that you love me and maybe once a year take me out of a drawer, dust me off, and take a picture of me like I’ve been sitting proudly in Aubin’s room the whole time. That would be amazing. Also, I may be somewhat hideous, but if you were to put a price tag on me for some garage sale or something, my estimated value is:

$52/hour * (1.5hrs/interval * 4 intervals/wk * 15wks + 1hr/interval * 2 intervals/wk * 40wks + 2hrs/interval * 7 intervals/wk * 5wks) + $40 knitting materials + $40 crocheting materials =
$12,560*

*Note – Value does not include any pain and suffering endured


HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AUBIN!


Stupid Penny Spazoid Dog

My dog Penny is a spaz, and she has been ever since I got her. Her first signs of being a spaz were pee accidents all over the place. I put in a doggy-door to the patio and backyard. Problem solved. Then, I moved to a different house where the doggy-door wasn’t an option, and she spazzed all over again. She was peeing, pooping, and puking whenever I was gone for more than five minutes.

(Don’t even ask me how I know this wasn’t Sophie, DOUG. It wasn’t).

During this spaz period, she consumed TWO pairs of my glasses as well as a number of remote controls – so many that I started keeping spares around. She also developed a habit of pulling my body pillow off my bed and dragging it to the living room. Another random spaz act was knocking this stuffed frog from my dresser to the floor. I have other stuffed animals. She only targets the frog because she’s racist.

After we settled into my new house, these behaviors sort of died down for the most part. Maybe there was one accident a week if I’d had a long day at work. Her acts of violence to the stuffed frog became more sporadic. Then, we went to Louisville.

The dogs love the car, so I’ve road-tripped with them many times. This time was no different. They lay in the back, every so often popping their heads up to look around. After 8 hours, I got to Louisville, checked in to the hotel, and went to get drinks with the manfriend. Not even an hour later, the hotel manager calls me and tells me that one of the dogs (PENNY, duh…) was HOWLING, and apparently it was so bad, it was upsetting some of the guests. I had to come back to take care of it. Sure enough, I get back, and get up to my floor, and I can hear this plaintive and consistent howl. “Woooo-oooooo-owowowowowowow!” She’s stayed in hotel rooms before. This has never happened. Jesus.

Long story short here because it kind of isn’t the point, but I made it through that “vacation” by going to Banfield the next day, and getting her a tranquilizer and some doggy-Xanax. However, after this trip, her spazformation was complete. When I got back home, the peeing, pooping, and puking became a daily occurrence. More remotes were destroyed. The frog took up permanent residence on the bedroom floor because picking him up was an act in futility. I felt miserable. Not just because cleaning up dog mess is an unsavory activity, but because I felt I failed this dog. I couldn’t help her. She was miserable, and I couldn’t do anything. I thought seriously about rehoming her until my mom suggested that maybe she just needed crate training… DUH.

So, since summer of last year, Penny has been crate trained. The first time I set up the crate and opened the door, she walked right in and sat down on the blankets I put in there for her bed. MIRACULOUS! For about a week, she was in the crate all day every day except for potty-time, eating, and exercise. Now, she only goes in when I am at work and when I am sleeping. The pees/poops have ceased completely. I’ve adjusted her feeding schedule, so she no longer pukes. AMAZING! The frog has suffered maybe one or two more slobberings since then, but for the most part, he is unscathed. No more destroyed remotes.

Again, this has been about a year. So, feeling proud and confident in my awesome doggy training skills, I decided to let Penny stay out of the crate while I made a quick run to the grocery store last week. Surely, she would now be the perfect dog! I would come home and the dogs would be napping on the couch. Maybe one of the cats would be curled up next to them. No poops, no pees, no problems! Still, since I am so smart, I made sure to put up the remotes, and I made sure my glasses were on my face. I put up the doggy gates to close off the carpeted areas. I even remembered to put my current crocheting project far out of reach just in case. I was gone for BARELY forty minutes.

Of course, the body pillow had been dragged to the living room. Of course the frog was on the bedroom floor, soggy. However, the sight that greeted me immediately on entering my house was snow. Fluffy flakes of snow had accumulated all over my living room. It was beautiful... Except that it fucking wasn’t. Penny had torn up an entire box of Kleenex into tiny bits and the entire living room was covered. I cleaned it up in an enraged fit after banning the dogs to the backyard. I’ve only since recovered enough to be able to write this.


This is how Penny looks all of the time. She has one expression, and that expression is one of guilt. Because she is guilty of something all of the time. Asshole. Back to the crate you go.


Friday, September 4, 2015

50 Reasons Why I Love My Dog


OK, I’m going to start this post with the acknowledgement that I have TWO dogs. Yes, this post is just about one of the dogs (Sophie), and no, there aren’t going to be any subsequent posts about the other dog (Penny). I love both of these dorky dummies. I just happen to love Sophie more, so I am writing a post about her. I don’t feel bad about this. Any parents who tell you that they love all of their children equally are rotten liars. My sister and I have both accepted the fact that A.J. is my mother’s favorite and Michael is my father’s favorite. I’m no worse off as a person because of this, and Penny is no worse off as a dog – I still spend $30 per month on her doggy Xanax because apparently having nothing more to do than sleep and eat and chew yummy peanut butter bones and run around in a huge, grassy backyard is so high stress. So, whatever. Here is my post about why Sophie is the best dog ever.

  1. Whenever I hit a sweet spot during one of her rub-downs, she squints her eyes and goes into this sort of hypno-sleep-state where she actually snores.
  2. She is a total submissive, but she will defend her loved ones (or her food, in that case) if she needs to. She’s gotten the pink wounds on her nose to show it.
  3. When she lies on her back, she will daintily cover her lady parts with her tail. 
    So dainty
  4. Most of the time, except for when she doesn’t, and then she gives me a look like she doesn’t care what’s jangling around down there.
  5. Between groomings, she develops little tufts of fur between her toes, which I can’t help but photograph and then post to Twitter, like anyone gives a crap.
  6. During the winter, when she is growing her coat, she has these little tufts of downy fur on her rear knees, which have also been photographed and posted to Twitter.
  7. She knows when I’m sad, and tries to make me feel better by putting her head in my lap.
  8. EVERY TIME I sit down to put shoes or socks on, she backs into me to try to get me to rub her back right at the base of her tail. When I ignore her, she takes two steps forward then backs into me again.
  9. I don’t know if this is because she is a Golden Retriever, but she makes everyone smile. I can’t walk her past someone without that person’s face at least showing a flicker of happiness.
  10. Her smile is the biggest, most beautiful expression of pure joy. I wish I could be so happy.
  11. She LOVES food, which makes her supremely easy to train, but this also means I’ve lost a lot of meals to her determination. Once, she snatched a whole block of cheese off the counter and then galloped around the house gulping it down as I chased her.
  12. When I cook, I never have to clean up when I eventually drop, splatter, or spill something on the floor.
  13. She’s brilliant, you can physically watch her learn and comprehend new commands.
  14. She barks like any normal dog when she is trying to alert you to something (her barks being short and quick, like “HEY!” “HEY!” “HEY!”), but when she is trying to convey something more complicated, like agitation or hunger or potty time, she makes more complicated noises (some version of “Whoooooaaawwwooooowwwooooaaa.”
  15. When she has a major yawn, she squeaks at the end.
  16. She has the furriest of pants.
  17. She knows when she needs to put on the cute face – I was sitting on my couch eating a steak I had just cooked for this one.
    Gimme somma dat steak
  18. When she gets really excited, she goes on an insane tear, doing frenzied laps around the house or the yard.
  19. She takes the leash in her mouth and walks herself.
  20. When I pick her up at the kennel, she walks with the leash in her mouth up to everyone in the lobby because she knows it is adorable when she walks herself. Everyone always responds appropriately.
  21. She is always excited to see me and wags herself into a frenzy when I walk in the door
  22. When I leave, she gives me a look that lets me know she’s going to miss me (I’m sure she then takes the opportunity to scour every garbage can for all the used Kleenex she can eat, but still…).
  23. In those ways and in others, she always lets me know I matter.
  24. She chews on pinecones… I don’t know why I find this adorable, but I do.
  25. Her breath stinks… I also don’t know why I find this adorable, but I do… I would think the pinecones would help.
  26. She has this point on the tippy top of her head that just begs to be kissed.
  27. She has the softest fur, probably from the stupid expensive diet I have to feed her because of her sensitive stomach, but it always surprises people how soft she is.
  28. If she sees a bug on the wall, she will put on this act (and she knows I am watching her, so it is definitely an act) that it is just TORTUOUS to her that she can’t get this bug off the wall. She growls at it, she “Whoooooahahahhaoooooos!” at it, she screeches at me in these plaintive whines. There is nothing more important in the entire world than her needing to get that bug off the wall. I’ve recorded this performance before. The more I laugh, the more she throws herself into the tortured-doggy role. It will go on forever as long as I am paying attention.
  29. She prances when she knows people are watching her, but she wants them to think she doesn’t know.
  30. This one time, I was with her at a register paying for her bath, and she slowly lifted her head, slowly opened her mouth, and gently took a treat from a basket on the register counter, then slowly retreated to eat the treat – the WHOLE time maintaining eye contact with the woman behind the register. The woman burst out laughing, and I felt bad and asked how much to pay for the treat? The woman told me it was free of charge, just watching Sophie try to be sneaky made her day.
  31. She gives the best snuffs – I’m assuming that dog people know what this is, but I’m also fairly certain I made this word up… When she greets people and can get close enough to their face in her greeting, she will simultaneously kiss and snort in the person’s ear. Snuffs.
  32. Her boundless capability for love. She LOVES everyone.
  33. But she especially loves me. Like the cheesy line in “As Good As It Gets,” she makes me want to be a better person, like I am unworthy of such an amazing dog, friend, love.
  34. In the day or so after being groomed, she appears as a fluffed-up version of herself, like she was teased-up and hair-sprayed. Her tail looks like a massive, fluffy fan.
  35. When she is done with her business, she spastically jerks her hind legs behind her, first one and then the other. I know she is trying to kick dirt or grass over her poop like all dogs do, but she is just kicking air looking like some degenerate doggy Rockette.
  36. She closes her eyes when she chews on a bone, as if in intense concentration.
  37. Whenever she is sitting, facing away from me, every so often she’ll throw her head backwards to make sure I’m still there or to indicate I haven’t been petting her enough. So, she’s looking at me upside down, and her cheeks are all flapped open so I can see her teeth and her gums. It’s the silliest most adorable smile ever.
  38. When she goes outside in the rain and gets all sogged, she’ll come back in and know she’s not supposed to get on the furniture, but every time she makes me feel guilty about it.
    Soggy
  39. She gets jealous whenever I give too much attention to Penny, and she’ll insert herself between the two of us.
  40. When I got her as a puppy, I could hold her with one hand. She was tiny. She still thinks she’s tiny and always tries to sit on my lap, which I will tolerate for a short time because no one likes to be told they’re not tiny. Here’s her being not-so-tiny.
    She doesn't QUITE fit on that bed
  41. As a puppy, she would gorge herself on puppy food, and then fall asleep on her back, with her paws over her eyes. Her rounded belly would rise and fall with her sweet puppy breaths.
  42. Whenever I am mean to her because I am stressed or angry or due to her naughtiness, she waits me out. She will sit on her doggy bed and look at me until she knows I am calmed down. She then comes over to me in what seems the exact moment when I feel a wash of remorse for my stupid, human behavior and we hug it out.
  43. She skips around in this tight little circle while I am filling up their food bowls, like she is simultaneously starving and about ready to get the best meal she’s ever had – which makes me feel pretty good considering I spend $60 on every bag of her dog food.
  44. She is starting to get the white fur of age around her muzzle and her eyes, which makes me love her so much it hurts because it reminds me I’m not going to have her forever.
  45. I have to clean out her ears once a week, which she HATES. However, she grudgingly obliges after FIRST showing me how much she hates it by trying to burrow her head under her paws, my leg, the covers, etc…
  46. After the deed is done however, she will immediately bound out of the room and go stand by the pantry door to wait for a treat.
  47. Since I live by myself, she has to be my hero. The bugs in the south are ridiculous. Whenever I see one of those disgusting palmetto bugs, I screech like a small child, and Soph will spring into action. She’ll grab it in her mouth and run to the back door, which I open for her. She then tosses the nasty-ass bug somewhere in the backyard and trots back inside.
  48. Her first time at the ocean, she didn’t know what to do. She’d been in freshwater before, but never in water that moves so much and makes so much noise. She spent the entire day jumping over the waves as they hit the beach, but never actually going in the water. She was way more fascinated with hermit crabs, which I had to work to keep her away from so she didn’t get a claw to the nose.
  49. Her favorite activity is sitting on the couch watching movies.
  50. I’ve never loved anything as much as I love this dog, and I still feel like I don’t deserve her. She brings so much happiness to my life that I can’t imagine ever being without her, and I can’t fathom why I never had a dog before her. It’s scary to love something this much, to feel actual pangs of sickness just thinking about her ever being injured or hurt in any way. She’s also taught me that that’s OK because life is better with that kind of love especially when it is directed towards something so deserving. 



Sophie Mo-Mo Marie, you are the best, and you are about ready to get the best rub-down of your life, so be prepared to start snoring your ass off.

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

A Chubby Girl's Declaration of Love

First off, I’m already hungry knowing what I’m about to type at you.

I love the Food Network. I am an avid watcher. I always stop flipping through the channels once I see Guy Fieri stuff his big face into some greasy mound, or I see someone (stupidly) try to beat Bobby Flay, or I see any glimpse of mad scientist Alton Brown. I also love watching competition cooking, but I always wondered if performance in competition was anything akin to the quality of the chef, especially since most chefs aren’t given 20 minutes to try and slap something together from gummi bears and kale in some random Chopped basket. I’m not sure of the pecking order, but if I had to guess, I’d assume Iron Chefs were the most elite of the chefs in any cooking competition. Iron Chefs are the rock stars of the cooking world. I just learned that Chef Michael Symon has the best win percentage on Iron Chef at a whopping 82%. Such a statistic would seem to suggest that Michael Symon is a rock god, like a culinary Keith Richards… But does that mean anything?

I’m quite willing to say, ABSOLUTELY. Michael Symon belongs on a pedestal.

My previous favorite restaurant I had basically identified as the whole city of New Orleans. NOLA is so wonderful that it’s hard for me to nail down one place, but if I were at gunpoint, I’d choose John Besh’s August. I could go on for hours about NOLA (crab cheesecake, holy crap), but this is about my NEW favorite. I was in Cleveland last weekend with the manfriend, who is also an avid Food Network watcher and HUGE Michael Symon fan. In order to save a few bucks, we went to Lolita rather than the more expensive Lola for our Michael Symon experience. We decided to order a bunch of smaller plates rather than entrees so we could get more stuff to shove in our mouths. We also (now looking over our choices) were feeling particularly carniverous. Here is what we got:

  • ·         Roasted Bone Marrow – meyer lemon, parsley, radish, chili, sourdough
  • ·         Mixed Green Salad (manfriend always has to get a salad) – radish, grana padano, red onion, sherry viaigrette
  • ·         Cured Meats Big Board – 8 house cured meats
  • ·         Crispy Pig Tails and Ears – fennel-onion agrodolce, pickled chilies, cilantro
  • ·         Crispy Chicken Livers – soft polenta, mushroom, bacon
  • ·         Fried Brussels Sprouts – caper, anchovy, walnut


First of all, let me say that we got a couple of beers and a bottle of wine and our bill was $100. I think one entrée at August would run you $35, so there’s that.

Second of all, there was not ONE thing listed above that wasn’t absolutely stellar. Every time I took a bite, I had to go through an involuntary BIG O face before I could even swallow. However, I want to highlight two things above. I’ve never had pig tails and ears. Maybe you’re thinking these are just the scrap parts. Maybe you are thinking I am gross for ordering these. You better get rid of that attitude right now, you snob. Pig is delicious, and apparently ALL pig parts are delicious. These were so perfect. You bit into an ear and it was this light, crisp exterior that gave way to this melt of fatty goodness. Pork belly? Psshhhht. Bacon? Getouttahere. This is the best chunk of pig I’ve ever had. Michael Symon, you just blew my mind. Now, I want to move on to the brussels sprouts, which the man informed me were on Aaron Sanchez’s list as the best thing he ever ate, fried. I mean, really, BRUSSELS SPROUTS? Again, lose the attitude. YES, REALLY. I can honestly say (with maybe the aforementioned crab cheesecake a close second) I have never put anything this good into my mouth. EVER. They are fried in lard (God bless you , Michael) and come with this tangy vinaigrette so you get this fatty, buttery taste that is cut through with this sauce… well, the sauce has capers in it. I shouldn’t have to say anything more. I must learn how to make these. One year for Thanksgiving, I made a dish with brussels sprouts and bacon for the family. It was gobbled down quickly. I was all proud of myself. I was naïve. In fact, I now think that if a brussels sprout doesn’t pass through Lolita, then it will have given its life for naught.

I have tried to put a chubby girl’s words into the above. I can’t even explain. I just can’t. There are no words for this type of experience. I’ve fallen in love. I would move to Cleveland. Yes, CLEVELAND to have this food even once a month. Michael’s show Burgers, Brew, and Cue just started up on the Food Network. Since I’m now in love with him, I recorded it and watched it, mouth agape, in a stunned awe of someone who could create something so full of joy.

Please, please look him up and go to one of his restaurants. NOW, you fools!

And, no, I wasn’t on drugs during any of this experience.


Chubby girl out.