tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57111491054853838612024-03-19T00:02:28.924-04:00Piranha ChickenBlog of a Former City Girl in the CountryDomaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.comBlogger94125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-86494981540598488742023-11-17T20:33:00.005-05:002023-11-17T22:06:35.360-05:00In the Bleak November<p>Prima facie, I seem like the sort of person who would find the bleak November landscape depressing. The dead leaves, the darkness, the cold, are all reminders that life and light and warmth are only temporary. Since I cannot bear the thought of mortality, I avoid reminders of death and dying. </p><p>November bridges the glorious fall foliage season and the festive holidays. From Thanksgiving onward, I cherish the holiday season with its bright lights, cheerful decorations, uplifting music, indulgent food, and celebrations that hold the dark and cold of winter at bay. To my way of thinking, the holiday season occurs too early in the winter. When it ends at the beginning of January, we still have to get through the rest of that long, dark, cold month, as well as February and March, my least favourite months of the year, before we begin to see signs of life, light, and warmth towards the end of April. To protect myself against seasonal affective disorder, I stretch out the holiday season until the beginning of February, following the Queen's practice of taking down the tree on Candlemas. Last year, I had the foresight to plan a trip to visit my best friend in February, so I would have something to look forward to that month besides eating too much Valentine's candy. We had an intimate, relaxed visit, walking around her city, familiar and dear to me as a second hometown, and visiting museums and cafes in the absence of the usual tourist crush. We enjoyed the thermal baths in an Art Deco spa in the city centre on a weekday afternoon and walked home in crisp cold air in the early dark past windows filled with candles and fairy lights to create a cosy atmosphere, almost a religion in Sweden in winter. We cooked dinners and talked late into the night over glasses of red wine, catching up in a way that has been difficult to find the time to do since we were in the same dormitory in graduate school decades ago. But absent such highlights, I struggle to keep my spirits up through the winter months after the holiday season ends.</p><p>Winter has its moments: the childlike release of snow days, with mulled wine and hot chocolate, baking and knitting and hibernating as the snow piles up outside. Watching snowflakes fall, seeing the joyful red of a cardinal or winterberries against the bare black branches and white ground, and experiencing the profound peace of a snow-clad forest are some of life's greatest treasures. I recently tried snowshoeing and it gave me an opportunity to spend some time outdoors in winter, something I had always lacked due to my intolerance for cold, and relieved some of my severe cabin fever.</p><p>Early spring, with its dirty snow, melting to reveal last fall's not-yet-decomposed dead leaves, grey sunless days, and that damp cold that goes right through you, is my least favourite season. I cannot get warm in that weather nor does the weak sunlight have the power to lift my mood out of the mud.</p><p>Late spring, with its warmer sunlight, soft green buds on the trees, and the brief blooming of lilacs, my favourite flower, is a separate season to me. It often surprises people when I say spring is my least favourite season because this part of spring is what they are thinking of when they picture spring. Mud season and cold rain are blocked out, perhaps as a coping mechanism. I divide spring in two and have to explain this parsing of the season to people shocked by my forceful denunciation of it.</p><p>Summer I never want to end because the extended daylight and warmth give me energy and hope. I achieve 9/10 of what I accomplish all year in summer as my motivation and mood go up with each additional minute of daylight and each degree above 70F (within reason: my comfortable temperature range is about 80-85).</p><p>Yet despite lamenting the departure of the energising heat and light of summer, autumn is my favourite season. Specifically, autumn in New England: I love the fall colours and the festivals celebrating the harvest. As a kid, I loved school, and, as an adult, I remained a student as long as I could, then worked as a teacher, so I could stay on a schedule where September was a new beginning, the start of a new school year. Rather than buy planners that start on January 1, which feels like the middle of the holiday season to me and not the start of a new anything, I have always bought academic year planners because this is how I conceptualise the year. I see it as an annual fresh start, a clean slate that always gives me hope and motivation to work towards my goals.</p><p>So you could not be faulted for assuming that the grim interval between Halloween and Thanksgiving, after the leaves have fallen and the farmers' markets have closed, after Daylight Saving Time has ended and the days and chill close in, would depress me. I would assume that myself, so I was intrigued to discover that I do not find the starkness of the bare trees depressing. </p><p>Yes, I love the awe-inspiring autumn sunsets and I do miss them come November when the sun just seems to disappear in the early afternoon, skiving off early to slip beneath the horizon before the workday ends. Those first weeks after the clocks fall back, you glance up from your computer in mid afternoon to see the darkened windows and mistakenly think it must be quitting time. Quickly disabused of that brief elation, you become resigned to commuting in darkness, blinded by oncoming headlights. Evening activities feel later because of the darkness and tiredness hits earlier. An after work run is now impossible and a pre-work run not much more feasible given the later sunrise and morning chill. Indian summer in October lets you put off donning the heavy boots and down coat but November gives you no such reprieve. Suddenly, it is 22F in the morning and, even if it occasionally gets into the 50s by afternoon, there is no pretending it is still iced coffee weather.</p><p>I do not like any of those aspects of November and yet they somehow do not drag me down as one would expect. When I look at the bare trees and fields, I see not an unbearable stark reminder of death but a pause, as if nature is taking a short rest between the magnificent, spectacular colour and abundance of autumn and the festivity of the holiday season. Winter is considered to be nature's resting season, her long nap before her great efforts at birth and growth begin again in spring. But without that cleansing of the palate between the foliage and the holidays, the transition from autumn into winter would be too decadent, like going from party to party without going home to sleep and work in between. We would not appreciate the foliage and the harvest as much without this breather before Thanksgiving ushers in the Xmas season. We need the darkness before the light, trite by true. At least, I do; I cannot speak for anyone else. I know the time after the clocks change is hard on a lot of people, especially the earlier sunset. They may not notice the sliver of moon now visible hanging low in the sky behind the trees that have shed the shielding modesty of their leaves, nor appreciate the frost that has transformed the morning dew into jewels as if by magic.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqlmQp6IkUhmWUkv1pLECTkfo9qBfQOQ3mYrmhuh1E6qzznslJdP7m4dBzYCo39henFYfDB21dKkrZdy4fhyPiqG5hiOLdWw3BpW1-yzdUG9CUMUCAikp_33Hn-w7jiSDFcA4KjVxT2laksfn2HCVI5zla0uOntj5KYQiLHFpDdoCR-8TEQ8HgNvaMvGo/s480/Fantasiafrostfairies.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqlmQp6IkUhmWUkv1pLECTkfo9qBfQOQ3mYrmhuh1E6qzznslJdP7m4dBzYCo39henFYfDB21dKkrZdy4fhyPiqG5hiOLdWw3BpW1-yzdUG9CUMUCAikp_33Hn-w7jiSDFcA4KjVxT2laksfn2HCVI5zla0uOntj5KYQiLHFpDdoCR-8TEQ8HgNvaMvGo/s320/Fantasiafrostfairies.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>When I look at the silhouette of the bare trees against the waning November light, I think of poetry. This is about the only time I think of poetry, to be honest. Although I have some <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44996/goblin-market" target="_blank">old favourites</a>, it is not a genre that usually draws my attention and emotions. But the November landscape is a poetic backdrop more than a prose one. Its empty spaces where plants grew and light shone and animals roamed beg to be filled in with human words to express their existential feel.</p><p>From Emily Dickinson:</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(37, 35, 36); font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 2.2em; margin: 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px 0px 12px;"><span style="color: #783f04;">How happy I was if I could forget<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />To remember how sad I am<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Would be an easy adversity<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />But the recollecting of Bloom</span></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(37, 35, 36); font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 2.2em; margin: 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px 0px 12px;"><span style="color: #783f04;">Keeps making November difficult<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Till I who was almost bold<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Lose my way like a little Child<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And perish of the cold.</span></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(37, 35, 36); color: #252324; font-size: 15px; line-height: 2.2em; margin: 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px 0px 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">From Robert Frost:</span></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(37, 35, 36); color: #252324; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 2.2em; margin: 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px 0px 12px;"><i>My November Guest</i></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(37, 35, 36); font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 2.2em; margin: 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px 0px 12px;"><span style="color: #783f04;">My Sorrow, when she’s here with me,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Thinks these dark days of autumn rain<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Are beautiful as days can be;<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />She loves the bare, the withered tree;<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />She walks the sodden pasture lane.</span></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(37, 35, 36); font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 2.2em; margin: 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px 0px 12px;"><span style="color: #783f04;">Her pleasure will not let me stay.</span></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(37, 35, 36); font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 2.2em; margin: 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px 0px 12px;"><span style="color: #783f04;">She talks and I am fain to list:<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />She’s glad the birds are gone away,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />She’s glad her simple worsted grady<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Is silver now with clinging mist.</span></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(37, 35, 36); font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 2.2em; margin: 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px 0px 12px;"><span style="color: #783f04;">The desolate, deserted trees,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />The faded earth, the heavy sky,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />The beauties she so ryly sees,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />She thinks I have no eye for these,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And vexes me for reason why.</span></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(37, 35, 36); font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 2.2em; margin: 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px 0px 12px;"><span style="color: #783f04;">Not yesterday I learned to know<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />The love of bare November days<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Before the coming of the snow,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />But it were vain to tell her so,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And they are better for her praise.</span></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(37, 35, 36); color: #252324; font-size: 15px; line-height: 2.2em; margin: 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px 0px 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Next week is Thanksgiving and the harried start of the all-too-brief holiday season. Until then, pause and breathe, take some days to appreciate this intermission when nature has drawn the curtains on one show and readies for another.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJMlB9IMgMHr1SseAXw1Ykt4-RRrR6jkhQFgUvA3zPBw1mNDx7cWxXTYykoPomb8Q7b3RLgaVwLEMlFLfsnT9qpWcpmWc0tC5Nyg_ZT-FMu9mmwbox5H-LqQOSGC_B4Vz_EBZixVQ_1E7tGi36yCDeotJQbcqmMj5X8Wf_eF1qw61IRUAPcVhfc0m83gU/s1142/01-15-14-Moon.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="857" data-original-width="1142" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJMlB9IMgMHr1SseAXw1Ykt4-RRrR6jkhQFgUvA3zPBw1mNDx7cWxXTYykoPomb8Q7b3RLgaVwLEMlFLfsnT9qpWcpmWc0tC5Nyg_ZT-FMu9mmwbox5H-LqQOSGC_B4Vz_EBZixVQ_1E7tGi36yCDeotJQbcqmMj5X8Wf_eF1qw61IRUAPcVhfc0m83gU/s320/01-15-14-Moon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(37, 35, 36); color: #252324; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 2.2em; margin: 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px 0px 12px;"><br /></p>Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-59803070702746617742021-10-17T15:48:00.013-04:002021-10-17T22:17:57.535-04:00Rhinebeck Revisited: Fewer Sheep, Less Wool<p>It's been <a href="http://www.piranhachicken.com/2017/10/im-baaahk-from-ny-sheep-wool.html" target="_blank">four years since I last posted about the annual New York Sheep and Wool Festival,</a> known succinctly as "Rhinebeck" in the knitting world for its venue, the Dutchess County Fairgrounds in Rhinebeck, NY. If you haven't yet read my first post about it, <a href="http://www.piranhachicken.com/2016/10/so-much-yarn-so-little-time-rhinebeck.html" target="_blank">start there.</a></p><p>Rhinebeck has been my favourite event for the dozen or so years I have been privileged to know it. The first year I attended, I took the bus from <a href="https://www.yarn.com" target="_blank">WEBS</a>. This had its advantages, from the cider donuts, raffles, and festive atmosphere on the bus, to the fiber-y camaraderie. The what-are-you-knitting conversations on the way down shifting to a show-and-tell of what everyone purchased on the journey home. I even made a new friend on that bus ride (hi Rena!). The not having to drive part was also appealing but I have opted to drive myself every year since. I need the control of getting there early and staying until the bitter end, as well as the opportunity to enjoy the fall foliage along the Taconic State Parkway, a route the bus cannot take. Not to mention the extreme level of motion sickness I suffer every time I ride a bus puts somewhat of a damper on the day.</p><p>In the years since my first Rhinebeck pilgrimage, I have taken one knitting friend to yarn mecca (hi SJ!), as well as my father, who for several years planned his annual visits around Rhinebeck weekend. He is not a knitter, but he appreciates fine craftsmanship and he enjoyed browsing the booths of the many woodworking vendors, who sell beautiful wooden tools for all the fibre arts, from spinning wheels and looms to handmade crochet hooks, as well as spoons and other kitchen tools, and carved animals (I was tempted by the hedgehogs and had to remind myself that I am not a dust-catching-tchotchke person).</p><p>The four-hour round trip drive gives me enough time to listen to my favourite recording of my favourite opera, so that has become something of a Rhinebeck tradition as well. Others include ordering a pizza when I am about 20 minutes from home on the return journey. Pizza is a treat that fits the celebratory atmosphere of the day, but also serves the practical purpose of providing dinner when I am too exhausted to cook. A shower, a glass of wine, and pawing my Rhinebeck purchases without getting pizza grease on them is the limit of my energy level at that point.</p><p>I would like to <strike>indoctrinate</strike> introduce my partner and his daughter to Rhinebeck, but the stars have not yet aligned to make that feasible with his work schedule. It is also possible that I have scared them a bit by describing the methodical way I approach the day, which comes across as more akin to a secular praying of the rosary through the stations of the cross than a fun day out at the fair, munching on cider donuts as the colourful leaves drift down around you and the sheepdogs bark joyfully as they run to catch frisbees.</p><p>Yes, I am severely OCD, but I am not alone in my devotional approach to Rhinebeck. Sagacious knitting wit Franklin Habit, who recently moved to Paris, marked the occasion this year by posting "Happy Rhinebeck to all who observe."</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUGGqCMq3JkbV5aHzroG7-irKtxVG76rrrC0i0bQKJKoSEHuZQxlQEposC1J-m7brj5-azWotDkjlu0km6ErdHEu0hbzey1zVfY1wkc5k4uoLtFGU7VL4BhSdxMRoK9Og5AS3f-orqUPM/s2048/245920644_10158083398255896_3144703002746171158_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUGGqCMq3JkbV5aHzroG7-irKtxVG76rrrC0i0bQKJKoSEHuZQxlQEposC1J-m7brj5-azWotDkjlu0km6ErdHEu0hbzey1zVfY1wkc5k4uoLtFGU7VL4BhSdxMRoK9Og5AS3f-orqUPM/s320/245920644_10158083398255896_3144703002746171158_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p>Speaking of those cider donuts, I have marvelled that the consistently longest of the ridiculously long food queues at Rhinebeck, rivalled only by the lamb sandwich line, is the cider donut queue. Living in the heart of New England, you can't swing a skein around my town from Labor Day through Thanksgiving without hitting a place that sells cider donuts (and, even better, pumpkin donuts). I have the obligatory sacramental cider donut each fall—this year during an apple picking outing, fittingly—but I confess to taking them for granted now that I live in New England. The online buzz about Rhinebeck this year, after its pandemic-related cancellation in 2020, included much anticipation of cider donut consumption, often tucked in posts and comments advising first-time Rhinebeckers on what not to miss. All the donut talk reminded me that many knitters come to Rhinebeck from the Sun Belt, the Rust Belt, the Bible Belt, and other places outside the Cider Donut Belt. The women behind me in line to get in the gate were from Georgia. They were talking, as I could not help hearing, about the difficulty of finding a bra that fits properly and is comfortable, without underwires digging into underarms, underboobs, and underribs. I did not join the conversation as they were not wearing masks but I silently echoed their awed exclamations when one of the women mentioned that she works in a lingerie store that carries bras from a 28A to a 48O and they paused to attempt to imagine the formidable rack on the customer needing a size O bra. (Yeah, I know you just Googled. Take as long as you need. I did too.)</p><p>After missing a year of Rhinebeck, my anticipation was verging on desperation. This was little-kid-on-Xmas-Eve level excitement. I could hardly sleep or focus on any task for at least a week prior. Ironically, between my day job, freelancing, and taking care of family, I had no time to actually knit, but I was thinking of little else, even as I endeavoured to be present in other areas of my life. I started listening to a new-to-me knitting podcast on my morning jog, and perused knitting patterns on Ravelry instead of politics on Twitter in the loo.</p><p>But I had a nagging worry that the lingering pandemic, due to the anti-vaxxers/anti-maskers, was going to negatively affect this year's longed-for Rhinebeck experience. The omens of an abridged Rhinebeck multipled as the holy third weekend of October approached. First, neither the organisers nor the fairgrounds required masks or proof of vaccination to attend. Masks were requested, but not required, in buildings, for anyone vaccinated. But we know that the Venn diagram of people who refuse the vaccination and people who refuse to wear masks is nearly a circle, so such milque toast requests are worse than useless, they are a capitulation to the selfish, homicidal Covidiots who wish to prolong the pandemic at all costs, even their own preventable deaths and Darwin Awards (which cannot come fast enough to please me, but that's another blog post). None of my knitting friends was going, fearing that it just was not safe yet.</p><p>The organisers were implementing some changes to limit transmission of the coronavirus and forestall a super-spreader event, but they sounded more likely to abridge the experience without much increasing safety. Vendors were to be limited to every other booth space, no double booths, and some vendors were moved outside. All workshops and speakers and indoor demos were cancelled or moved online. All children's events were cancelled, although that seemed like a good precaution, to be fair. (And, to be blunt, Rhinebeck is not very kid friendly anyway. Few knitters bring their children to Rhinebeck, if they can avoid it, because kids' limited patience precludes the parent from perusing the yarn. It is not that they don't love their kids, they just can't shop with them in tow. Of course, if dad is there, he can take the kids to watch the sheep herding and pet the llamas whilst mom herds skeins and pets yarn, but two-parent families are rare these days.)</p><p>I was simultaneously worried that vendors would stay away but crowds would be worse due to pent-up demand. Attendance turned out to be much lighter than usual, great for me albeit not for the sellers, but my fears about the dearth of vendors were more than realised. The every other booth arrangement did not lead to the rest of the vendors simply being moved outside. There was a smattering of tents but most of the vendors I look forward to browsing and buying from simply weren't there. All vendors noted that they had brought much less stock than usual, and the larger vendors, who normally use two adjacent booth spaces, were unrecognisable in single booths with limited stock. The vendor who makes the felted cat toys that I replenish each year was there, but no cat toys. The same sad scene was repeated, with the notable exception of soap. For some reason, soap vendors have been multiplying like rabbits at Rhinebeck in recent years, and, in lieu of yarn, I somehow came home with about 15 bars of soap. I'm strict about soap scents being seasonal, so one bright spot in a disappointing Rhinebeck year was stocking up on autumn and winter soap. I am definitely covered until Rhinebeck next year, and possibly for several years beyond that.</p><p>Cider donuts excepted, the food was different this year too, or perhaps I'm different: I look forward each year to a certain chocolate chip cookie vendor who sells cookies in the shape of a bar. They're egregiously expensive, but worth it as an annual treat, along with a hot cup of coffee to ward off the autumn chill. I was afraid the cookies might be a casualty of the pandemic, but they were sold by a vendor attached to the fairgrounds, i.e., in a permanent location, that vends at every event held there, not just Sheep & Wool, so I lived in hope. Maybe the cliche of nothing living up to our inflated expectations applies, or perhaps it's my habit of making my own cookies with greatly reduced sugar content, but I found the cookie to be both bland and sickly sweet. And the hot coffee? It was 76F, nearly a Rhinebeck record. As someone who freezes when it gets below 75F/25C, I have been enjoying the unusually warm autumn, as have my peppers and tomatoes, which are still producing fruit in mid-October, but even I admit this warm weather is somewhat inappropriate for a knitting festival.</p><p>One of the many initially-informal-but-now-codified traditions that has arisen around Rhinebeck is the making and wearing of the Rhinebeck sweater. This is a garment knit for the express purpose of showing it off at Rhinebeck to an appreciative audience. No Rhinebeck is complete without tapping a few strangers on the shoulder to exclaim, "I love your [jumper, cardigan, hat, shawl, cowl, whatever hand knit item they are wearing to elicit this response]!" It typically takes about two years to knit a sweater but, since the organisers cottoned on to this tradition, an official Rhinebeck sweater pattern has been promulgated, giving knitters a year to complete it for next year's festival. This tradition in turn has given rise to t-shirts, bags, and buttons that say "No rest [sleep, in some versions] til Rhinebeck!" Any knitter who sees this in the wild knows exactly what it means. This year, most fairgoers abandoned the wearing of their hand knits in favour of tank tops and flip-flops, but a few stubbornly wore their (beautiful, it should be noted) Rhinebeck sweaters. She moved through the fair, drenched in sweat.</p><p>Another inviolable Rhinebeck tradition is the (increasingly overpriced) lamb sandwich. It is, ironically, the only line this militant vegetarian is willing to stand in—yes, hypocrisy duly acknowledged. I don't normally eat lamb, or any meat, but the juxtaposition of the lamb sandwich, its lamb sliced like pastrami and served on a kaiser roll with onions and mustard, with supporting the use of sheep as fibre animals has struck me as complementary. There is not enough money in raising sheep just to shear them for wool, and some, usually males, as in the dairy and egg industries, are killed for food and skins. I do not approve but I understand the economics of the situation for farmers, many of whom are engaged in preventing heritage breeds from becoming extinct. Finally, the culinary designation 'lamb' refers to meat from sheep under a year old, by which time they are long since fully grown. They are still cute, but not the adorable baby lambkins gambolling around playfully that I, for one, could not imagine anyone being so heartless as to murder, even if starving to death were the only other option. So, hypocritical, perhaps, but this is my rationalisation for my once-a-year-at-a-sheep-and-wool-festival lamb sandwich, which I have not actually had in four years, as I got the soup two years ago, and they were sold out three years ago. The lamb sandwich vendor also sold lamb sausage and lamb and barley soup. The soup, with carrots and spices, is delicious, and warming on a cold autumn day. But this year, the part of the menu sign listing the sandwiches and sausage was covered over, replaced with a handwritten menu offering lamb shank ($22) or lamb riblets ($20). No lamb sandwiches this year, although they still had the soup. It was, though, as I mentioned above, 76 degrees, so for the first time, there was no queue, and with good reason. I managed to find a vendor selling pumpkin mac & cheese, which indulged my autumn food fetish adequately, but the lack of lamb sandwiches was odd and disappointing. </p><p>Traffic in the buildings was designated to be one way, another pandemic precaution, but there were some flaws in the execution. One doorway (all doors were kept wide open this year for air circulation) had "entrance" signs, the opposite doorway had "exit" signs. There were arrows on the floor backing up this traffic flow instruction, but someone had accidentally (presumably, unless they were having a laugh), put the arrows on the floor in the wrong direction, so they were pointing toward the designated entrance, leading everyone to ignore the whole mess and just browse around in every direction as usual, like squirrels who have eaten some coffee beans.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglGZ1oBOHkPOAiI6B5BlBb9uQSqC5OCQaOLXhDCnbxZNGh0a-Mh7Hx-Yuuv1c3I0Kx0M3TonjNfNCvO_-6dDyrJAj4FE_hgujy1IVYYk0N3tixOGBFZyuUZjv9GxB66PtSwLA6oKoCX40/s2048/E1998DD6-70C0-4EE6-9636-78CCD3729A8D.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglGZ1oBOHkPOAiI6B5BlBb9uQSqC5OCQaOLXhDCnbxZNGh0a-Mh7Hx-Yuuv1c3I0Kx0M3TonjNfNCvO_-6dDyrJAj4FE_hgujy1IVYYk0N3tixOGBFZyuUZjv9GxB66PtSwLA6oKoCX40/s320/E1998DD6-70C0-4EE6-9636-78CCD3729A8D.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Much lighter crowds this year</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Hearing snippets of conversation is unavoidable, and there is usually one Rhinebeck gem. This year, in the Ewetopia booth, I overheard a man retort to his companion, "You're the earth tones. I'm not. I'm Jew tones."</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAovr8Dk0NEVFLhyphenhyphen_pceJUij8OlmrpkA_aRVrq17MRFs79x6NMGyR2NhuD1sCY-x1RWdJqBjD22vD1koHZ32B5JqpTwo6aBEk-uNXG1el54q_L9YcLa6z8A10GT-HLvSDWGTSHMSI9lmg/s2048/A8BFC010-0D5E-4AF3-A4EF-D11C9142F556.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAovr8Dk0NEVFLhyphenhyphen_pceJUij8OlmrpkA_aRVrq17MRFs79x6NMGyR2NhuD1sCY-x1RWdJqBjD22vD1koHZ32B5JqpTwo6aBEk-uNXG1el54q_L9YcLa6z8A10GT-HLvSDWGTSHMSI9lmg/s320/A8BFC010-0D5E-4AF3-A4EF-D11C9142F556.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kangaroos and lemurs were there as usual</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEiNeWPHL3gODAiwG1FXsVndr7tQjbN6VA-nIEAtXYiT3xvax_xJ7O4yrsYI3Snt-PoccScVup0fgsYjLH3aBnCuXj8jXoGFqN-l3Szs-VdhW7aQXT669CfVUDv54UvnEBV7JGAyXMJvE/s2048/1330E35E-48C9-482A-83D1-152070760386.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEiNeWPHL3gODAiwG1FXsVndr7tQjbN6VA-nIEAtXYiT3xvax_xJ7O4yrsYI3Snt-PoccScVup0fgsYjLH3aBnCuXj8jXoGFqN-l3Szs-VdhW7aQXT669CfVUDv54UvnEBV7JGAyXMJvE/s320/1330E35E-48C9-482A-83D1-152070760386.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So were the sheep, albeit far fewer than usual</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Yet another tradition is to photograph one's Rhinebeck haul and post it on social media. This year, I bought far less than normal, and most of it was gifts for my partner and his daughter rather than additions to my yarn stash. There was (much!) less to buy, but I also felt constrained by my lack of time for knitting, something I am determined to remedy this year. I still have enough yarn in my stash to circle the globe several times over, so I feel guilty buying more until I have used it. I also seem to have acquired a future, and that has altered my perspective. (Yes, that first clause was stolen not-quite-shamelessly from <i>Possession</i>.) Back when I was under- or unemployed, broke, heavily in debt, barely scraping by living on my credit cards, throwing money down the toilet in interest, and feeling little hope of ever improving my financial situation, shopping for yarn once a year seemed to be a small indulgence to make a life on the financial and professional fringes bearable. A lot has been written on the mystery of why poor people waste money on small indulgences, such as coffee drinks, rather than living as ascetically and frugally as monks and saving every penny. The answer, obvious in retrospect, turned out to be that the poor have no hope of socio-economic mobility. Giving up small indulgences like a $5 coffee are not going to lead to enough money to buy a house or invest or otherwise climb out of poverty and the disdain heaped upon them by the rich reflects a breathtakingly myopic selfishness, a lack of understanding that pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps and trickle-down economics are a myth and a self-serving lie, an excuse for perpetuating a system that rewards rich people for being rich and punishes poor people continuously, in every area of life, from conception until death and beyond, for being poor. Now, I have a full-time job. True, it does not pay enough, but I augment it with freelance work, minimise my living expenses, and have a partner who has just moved in and started sharing rent and utilities. I have paid off two of my three credit cards and I can see what I never believed possible before: A life where I am not flushing money down the toilet in interest every month, and can start, for the first time in my life, building a savings account for emergencies. A house is probably still unrealistic. The Boomers were the last generation to be able to afford to own property, but living debt free, and having a cushion for emergencies, even accounting for the inevitable future bouts of unemployment due to the lack of job security in any field these days, is something I can see on the horizon now. I no longer buy anything I cannot pay off at the end of the month. No more accumulating credit card debt because it is my only option to live a little. Knowing I would have to pay off whatever I purchased by the end of the month effectively stopped me from buying much at Rhinebeck this year.</p><p>One vendor from whom I did make a small yarn purchase hailed from Irasburg, Vermont. I love the Northeast Kingdom and <a href="http://www.piranhachicken.com/2016/08/mountains-moose-and-maple-syrup.html" target="_blank">have a special affection for Irasburg, thanks to the Kingdom Run,</a> so I was moved to support this seller in particular.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMpvQM9XbZqOiGmpzAwFjCu5z77PK4d_tOaXhEyf2T86dAz48zfB0UyX6LelNHoCGzcUWATtyrY6CpDiVuav4prE4Ye7Z-1PvBLWnaTulCVO_inIGwJFX_PdnbNCqC0btTYyjZ1k40YZ0/s2048/348D316A-D26B-4812-A36E-1E37A8575B24.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMpvQM9XbZqOiGmpzAwFjCu5z77PK4d_tOaXhEyf2T86dAz48zfB0UyX6LelNHoCGzcUWATtyrY6CpDiVuav4prE4Ye7Z-1PvBLWnaTulCVO_inIGwJFX_PdnbNCqC0btTYyjZ1k40YZ0/s320/348D316A-D26B-4812-A36E-1E37A8575B24.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trumpublicans? I didn't ask, but they show the Covidiot signs</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Even before the pandemic, I never wanted to support vendors whose values I deplore, but unless they advertise their politics, I have no way of knowing how they vote. The pandemic made that more obvious. I decided that I was not going to buy from any vendors who were not wearing masks as that clearly identifies them as Trumpublicans, anti-mask, anti-vaccine zealots who are responsible for prolonging the pandemic. One booth had three sour-faced sellers, no masks, one wearing a cowboy hat, with an American flag on the wall behind them. I tried to get a photo of them as a textbook example for this blog post, but they were glaring at me, so I retreated across the aisle and was not able to get a clear photo through the crowd. I was horrified to see one of my favourite soup vendors maskless and quickly asked what their stance was, hoping I would not have to forego buying some of their lilac soap. They explained that they were vaccinated, and had been masked all morning, but their position near the wide open, breezy doorway had led them to feel safe removing their masks. I don't think that was wise, given their exposure to so many people, but at least they weren't virulent anti-mask/-vaxxers.</p><p>Another vendor that pissed me off this year was Bumblebee Yarns. They had a Harry Potter line in 2019 and I was looking forward to shopping it again this year but they said they had discontinued it due to the Rowling transphobia controversy. Jesus Fucking Christ, for the millionth time, Rowling is NOT transphobic. That is a wilful misinterpretation of her words and her views.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHb_D2YtaXNaub2BK3stIWfUhA5cww0hJOCmvuho-blquVQEcidq9_46DhnXo9v-EC1e2dR7gPpOlF6p1SuF7GgcFSShINC1OBwWFQTcZhrw0nt6KhhXsA58DdqIO9ISRvHutmQjhkhmU/s2048/54262C69-3E04-411C-B54F-88B443CE0179.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHb_D2YtaXNaub2BK3stIWfUhA5cww0hJOCmvuho-blquVQEcidq9_46DhnXo9v-EC1e2dR7gPpOlF6p1SuF7GgcFSShINC1OBwWFQTcZhrw0nt6KhhXsA58DdqIO9ISRvHutmQjhkhmU/s320/54262C69-3E04-411C-B54F-88B443CE0179.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This year's tiny Rhinebeck haul</td></tr></tbody></table><p>As the sun shone and the queue for ice cream eclipsed the donut line, the forecast rainstorm looked to be delayed. But 30 minutes before closing, the wind picked up and a bank of clouds approached and overtook the sunny day with cinematic drama. Fairgoers scattered like cockroaches when you turn on the lights in a city apartment kitchen. Food vendors rolled down their steel shutters, yarn vendors packed up and abandoned their booths, and the festival informally and abruptly closed early. I got to my car just as the wind-driven prickles of rain changed to fat drops. The rain was traveling west to east, and so was I, so I faced a white-knuckled drive home trying to outrun the storm whilst going about 30mph on the Interstate in a blinding downpour.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_i19if-KgT_rm2X-WQyUbDMYNREcZAUGnNQ0TLlQMjH6ykrnSogcn8cLW_xfVNzZv86B6LqDUhvtAecdPwfK1U28CDcZG5VmZRBScZIrFlNEP7SfvSlC9uSPO4-ltoxvNJkXBOeXputQ/s2048/26082C3A-9E1F-4922-A502-2409DF1FB53F.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_i19if-KgT_rm2X-WQyUbDMYNREcZAUGnNQ0TLlQMjH6ykrnSogcn8cLW_xfVNzZv86B6LqDUhvtAecdPwfK1U28CDcZG5VmZRBScZIrFlNEP7SfvSlC9uSPO4-ltoxvNJkXBOeXputQ/s320/26082C3A-9E1F-4922-A502-2409DF1FB53F.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The clouds roll in, vendors shutter, crowd scatters</td></tr></tbody></table><p>When I got home, I discovered that my local organic pizza haven, due to the pandemic, now closes at the absurdly early time of 7pm. My partner found alternative pizza, but the main pizza joint in a college town closing at 7pm on a Saturday night, really?</p><p>Still, I showered and had that glass of wine, and petted my (small) yarn haul. Tonight, we knit.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4fJhi-4Uq7xkA44urtRlwMmjAycJj9EnhkPxv_EGoW2xALWBUVk1xkhra1sBzT13DD4l8F3B7eFAij9qB06cDd4FThxHE4YyKDMAveoZLaL_8xeYsD5tPo8m35Dh0xfqMtXT0BxyGRU/s2048/7AEE0F35-7E79-4ED5-B44D-537AB164BC5E.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4fJhi-4Uq7xkA44urtRlwMmjAycJj9EnhkPxv_EGoW2xALWBUVk1xkhra1sBzT13DD4l8F3B7eFAij9qB06cDd4FThxHE4YyKDMAveoZLaL_8xeYsD5tPo8m35Dh0xfqMtXT0BxyGRU/s320/7AEE0F35-7E79-4ED5-B44D-537AB164BC5E.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Until next year, baaah.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p>Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-15230865231983713352021-04-02T20:55:00.021-04:002021-04-04T16:38:14.199-04:00Hail Thee Festival Day: Atheist Easter nostalgia for high church aesthetics<p><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I was growing up, my life revolved around singing in an Episcopal (Anglican) church choir. My entire life was organised around the church year, with the major flurries of choir activity happening around Xmas and Easter. Not only was I Head Chorister, but I made it a point to have perfect attendance at all services, rehearsals, and associated musical events, such as singing at weddings, funerals, memorial services, and professional recordings made by the choir, as well as playing in the handbell choir, and even serving as an acolyte on occasion when there was a need.</span></span></p><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Although I am an atheist (not a live-&-let-live atheist, but a militant <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Atheism" target="_blank">New Atheist</a> in the vein of the four horsemen), I have a deep <b><i>aesthetic</i></b> attachment to the music and the rituals of the Anglican church, particularly the ornate architecture, art, vestments, archaic language, and bells and smells of the high church.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAEr-mDcUO6vJz6lwLeHK7m7RSMdBzjGh6CFbPi8kS78vhWl60mRpn1X3eymrv3e0wxEuYthXr_Vjx4f0EoSFtAy40cEyHQuO7mP1aEp7peFBKw8g9kNAWLO7UCOW9KM2XVEM2W0HpCvg/s700/ChoirofKingsCollegeCambridge.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="570" data-original-width="700" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAEr-mDcUO6vJz6lwLeHK7m7RSMdBzjGh6CFbPi8kS78vhWl60mRpn1X3eymrv3e0wxEuYthXr_Vjx4f0EoSFtAy40cEyHQuO7mP1aEp7peFBKw8g9kNAWLO7UCOW9KM2XVEM2W0HpCvg/s320/ChoirofKingsCollegeCambridge.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Choir of King's College</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: inherit;">As a nonbeliever, religion is about aesthetics and ritual for me. When I see photos of modern megachurches that have stark, ugly buildings, either no vestments or plain ones, big screens, execrable music, contemporary language, I cannot see the point for the attendees. I realise for the pastors it is about the money, but the flock who are being fleeced do not care that they are in an aesthetic wasteland.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: inherit;">For believers, worship is not about aesthetics. This is a growing problem. People used to go to church as part of community life. The fact that they did not <i>really</i> believe was largely irrelevant. Several of the rectors at the church in which I grew up were atheists. In the Episcopal church, lack of belief is no impediment to being a priest. If that surprises you, think of all the duties of a priest. Faith affects none of them, least of all the weekly writing of a sermon. Today, church attendance is no longer a regular part of community life so the only people who attend regularly are actual believers, an increasingly smaller percentage of the population, which is in itself a good thing but disastrous for church finances. Churches are closing, consolidating, and simplifying their services to cater to less-educated attendees, as well as attendees who do not speak English well, and they are operating on far smaller budgets. The church I grew up in no longer has a professional, paid choir. There is no budget to hire brass for Easter, no more handbell choir, no more full-time choirmaster and church organist position. Attendance is about ¼ of what it was. And the new rectors do not give a shit about high church aesthetics; they are boring, modern, dull, tasteless philistines.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_dUdQyXW84VQghkJhhU6jq-HRaHcFjtyVt23PGXrBQG220bgz1iBK1vXzm-kOld1aWrwzetJyC9aSG-eAq89wfjRn6Ww6vKMfSR5m_zHzA1F0E_evEV0WuRdmt5Ir-6cfdiwPQX5PjU/s735/8d960c3dde85959c98dbcbe92265f1fa--candy-shop-tornado.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="674" data-original-width="735" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_dUdQyXW84VQghkJhhU6jq-HRaHcFjtyVt23PGXrBQG220bgz1iBK1vXzm-kOld1aWrwzetJyC9aSG-eAq89wfjRn6Ww6vKMfSR5m_zHzA1F0E_evEV0WuRdmt5Ir-6cfdiwPQX5PjU/s320/8d960c3dde85959c98dbcbe92265f1fa--candy-shop-tornado.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Today is Good Friday, normally a day of long, somber services, and intense rehearsals to prepare for Easter, the most festive service of the liturgical year. I miss the music, the scent of the incense, the Easter lilies lining every surface in the chancel, the ornately-decorated historic vestments taken out of storage for the occasion, and especially the trumpets and other brass hired to perform with us for the festal services ringing out brightly in the nave. I really loved the trumpets because they were so jubilant. I always hid Easter candy in my pockets and ate waaaay too much that day.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In pre-COVID times, I tried to seek out a high church service to attend at Xmas and Easter but they have gone extinct. We need an Aesthetic Revival!</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This Easter, I will listen to every <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2NsmCcA5wU2HwhYjTIDwT4?si=fZOij6OFRDe5i72pS0EGIQ" target="_blank">Anglican Easter hymn playlist I can find on Spotify</a>, eat Easter candy, and wallow in nostalgia for a time when people actually dressed up and wore hats.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: inherit;">One last point: I just read this quote about Easter 2021 from an Episcopal rector and it really resonated. It does feel like we have collectively endured a year-long Lent, and the pandemic has indeed highlighted how much is broken in our society. May 2021 be the year of fixing racial and economic injustices, and, above all, building a stellar public education system to prevent them recurring.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I knew things were broken, but I had no idea how broken. I knew race relations were strained, but I had no idea how strained. I knew there was sickness and disease and that people died, but it’s been humbling to see a nation like ours and others around the world brought to their knees. It feels like we’ve been in a yearlong Lent.”</span></div></div>Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-60084378571482965932020-10-30T22:57:00.001-04:002020-10-30T23:05:38.695-04:00To the victors go the spoils, to the losers go the votes?<p>Victory and concession speeches carry <i>no</i> legal weight.</p><p>A candidate can concede or declare victory at any point during the vote counting when the tally looks bad/good for them, but the actual winner is the person who has the most votes when the counting stops.</p><p>In recent elections, some Republicans have petulantly refused to concede. Roy Moore, for example, never conceded, but that made no difference to the fact that he lost.</p><p>Concession is a mark of civility and class, like calling the victor to congratulate him or her, thanking supporters, and speaking warmly of hope for bipartisanship. It is crass, petty, immature, and selfish for the loser not to concede gracefully. But Republicans think they have an entitlement to rule, and that no non-Republican winner is legitimate, even in a landslide.</p><p>As noted above, claims of victory or defeat have no <i>legal</i> significance, but they do have <i>psychological</i> significance. If the legitimate winner wrongly concedes, as Gore did in 2000, it has the effect of making any dispute about the results seem illegitimate to the public.</p><p>In the imminent 2020 election, a record number of ballots will still need to be counted after election night. Federal law gives states 35 days to count them, although some individual state laws mandate a shorter timeframe. Too many ballots will remain to be counted for us to know for certain who has won the presidential race and many down-ballot races on election night, unless the victory is by such a huge margin that it exceeds the number of ballots yet to be counted.</p><p>So, expect a harrowing election night, but do not expect to go to bed knowing the winner of most races. Nor should you expect many candidates of either party to concede that night. Do expect Trump to declare victory no matter what the vote tally shows on the night. This is tactical; his Orwellian strategy is to try to make people believe falsehoods by simply stating them repeatedly as if the mere repetition of lies makes them true.</p><p>It is anticipated that there will be a "red mirage" on election night, with more Republicans going to the polls on the day and more Democrats voting by mail, leading to a false sense of Republicans leading in many races until all the votes are counted.</p><p>Expect Republicans in general, and Trump in particular, to argue that the count should be stopped and mail-in ballots should not be counted. In anticipation of this, some Republican-controlled counties are setting aside mail-in ballots to count after Election Day with the expectation that they may not be counted at all.</p><p>If the red mirage does not occur, and Trump, and other Republican candidates, are behind in important races, expect them to abruptly change their tune and argue vociferously that every ballot must be counted and the election is not over until they are. Remember that one group of ballots not counted until after election night is military ballots, which skew heavily Republican.</p><p>The Republican stance on counting ballots will depend on how they are doing in their races, but either way they will pretend it is on principle. Both parties will find this risible, but, just like with the SCOTUS seat, Republicans do not care about hypocrisy when it benefits their side. Not a single Republican believed the argument that filling Ginsburg's seat was not hypocritical after their refusal to fill Scalia's because this time the same party controlled both the Senate and the White House, They simply did not care. They had power that they could use to benefit their own side, so they did.</p><p>Given the prevailing belief among Republicans that mail-in ballots will contain more votes for Democrats, they have been trying to slow down the mail so that ballots will not be received by Election Day. <a href="https://www.ncsl.org/research/elections-and-campaigns/absentee-and-mail-voting-policies-in-effect-for-the-2020-election.aspx" target="_blank">Some states require ballots to be <i>postmarked</i> by Election Day, but others require them to be <i>received</i> by Election Day.</a> Alaska and Ohio have the most generous deadlines, accepting ballots up to 10 days after Election Day. By slowing their transit, the Republicans can prevent ballots not received by Election Day in states that require it from being counted. In response to the Republican mail tampering, some states have scrambled to change their laws to allow counting of ballots received after Election Day. These changes have been challenged in court by Republicans, with mixed results, depending upon whether the change was initiated by the state legislature or the state courts, and other factors. Another strike against the already appalling record of 2020 may be that it proves to be the first U.S. presidential election when mail tampering is such an effective voter suppression tactic that it changes the outcome.</p><p>The only guarantee of a Democratic victory is such a large majority of votes for Biden on Election Day that the uncounted ballots will not change the outcome. If that transpires, it is unlikely to prevent Trump from challenging the results. He, and the Republicans, can still harness electoral votes to override the popular vote.</p><p>How? Shockingly easily, as it turns out: All states but two give all of their electoral votes to the candidate who wins the popular vote in the state. (Nebraska and Maine divide them proportionally based on percentage of popular vote.) But they do not have to do this; the state legislature is at liberty to ignore the popular vote and give the state's electoral votes to the candidate of their choice. </p><p>That sounds radical, <a href="https://www.usnews.com/news/best-states/articles/2020-10-01/could-a-few-state-legislatures-choose-the-next-president" target="_blank">but the legal barriers are surprisingly thin</a>. The Constitution allows states to choose electors 'in such Manner as the Legislature thereof may direct'. All states currently have laws directing their legislatures to allocate electors based on the popular vote, but these laws can be changed. A state with a Republican-controlled legislature and a Republican governor <a href="https://ballotpedia.org/Gubernatorial_and_legislative_party_control_of_state_government#Current_state_government_trifectas" target="_blank">(of which there are currently 21)</a> can do it easily; if the governor is a Democrat, the legislature will have to have a sufficient number of Republicans to override the governor's veto. If a state has both a Republican governor and a Republican-controlled legislature, it is likely to be a red state in which the popular vote favours Trump anyway, but there are a few Republican-controlled <a href="https://www.ketv.com/article/election-results-battleground-states-history/34498462" target="_blank">battleground states</a> that could go to Biden (e.g. Arizona, Florida, Georgia, Ohio, Texas).</p><p>If Trump is in need of electoral votes, states with Republican-controlled legislatures and Republican governors can simply ignore the state's popular vote and allocate all of their state's electoral votes to Trump. This manoeuvre could give Trump a second term even if he loses the popular vote by a wide margin, and even if he is unable to halt counting of mail-in ballots or otherwise invalidate legal Democratic votes.</p><p>Of the many nefarious schemes the Republicans are plotting to secure victory, this strikes me as the easiest and most likely for them to pursue unless the electoral vote is so close they they only need to stop the vote count in a few states to reach 270, in which case they have the federal courts in their pocket to enable them to do that.</p>Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-24461380444431416122020-04-24T16:45:00.000-04:002020-04-24T16:45:24.552-04:00As Higher Education Loses the War on Anti-Intellectualism and Greed, Aesthetics Are the Forgotten Casualty<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB">When I was a high school senior choosing a college, one of my main criteria was aesthetics. I demanded a beautiful campus, with historic, ivy-covered buildings, with wood-framed chalkboards in the classrooms that hadn’t been replaced by ugly, modern whiteboards. I wanted formality, ideally academic robes, and the ability to live in a dormitory on a leafy, idyllic campus for all four years. I wanted to feel my place in a long line of scholars, going back to ancient Greece, soaking up knowledge from venerable library books that had served generations of learners. If Harry Potter had existed then, I would have said I wanted a university version of Hogwarts. Oxford or Cambridge clearly would have suited me best but, as an American, I sought out the most aesthetically-suitable of the New World options. Luckily, the U.S. does have a wide selection of historic colleges. But it might not have them for much longer. Higher education was already under threat in the United States before COVID-19, and it appears that the pandemic will serve as the final nail in the coffin, relegating the United States to the Third World status that its lack of an adequate social safety net has revealed it deserves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Anti-intellectualism, manifested as a belief that your ignorance is as good as my knowledge, to paraphrase Asimov, has led to widespread denigration of the value of higher education. The Internet, potentially a way to equalise the dissemination of knowledge, has led to a devaluation of experts. “Why do I need to go to college when I have Google?” is the new excuse of the undereducated. Colleges are complicit in their own demise by offering not just individual courses online but entire online degree programs, up to and including doctoral level. Institutions saw online education as a way to increase revenue because online students don’t require campus facilities or staff, and courses can be taught by grossly underpaid adjuncts, who can be hired on a per-course basis, without the expense of benefits. A college can charge the same tuition for an online course as for the in-person version, but its costs are exponentially less.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">The third fatal blow to higher education, after anti-intellectualism and online education, is the vocational attitude adopted by potential students and their parents in response to the outrageous costs of tuition and fees for a four-year undergraduate degree. A college education used to be the ticket to a white-collar job, and higher earnings than your high school-educated peers. But the 6-figure price tag of college, coupled with the lifelong indentured servitude of student loans, has driven students to think of themselves as customers, buying a degree that will lead to a job that pays enough to justify the expense of student loans. There is no intellectual curiosity, no learning for its own sake. Students go through the motions of taking classes, insistent that the money they’ve paid entitles them to passing grades in each course, and a degree, regardless of whether they have done any work or learned anything. They also require that degree to lead to a specific job. The result of this attitude is a drastic decline in the number of students majoring in the social sciences and humanities, and an increase in students choosing majors like nursing. When I went to college, I was told that what I majored in as an undergrad was largely irrelevant. The point was to receive a good liberal arts education that would imbue me with the writing, analytical, and critical thinking skills to embark on the career of my choice. Specialisation, I was told, should come in grad school. It’s impossible to imagine any high school senior being given that advice today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">This attitude of four years of college being an idyll of reading and intellectual discussions on a leafy campus harkens back to the days when higher education was the exclusive purview of the wealthy. Only those who did not need to make a living, who came from family money, had the leisure to study and learn. Indeed, no matter how intelligent you were, like poor Jude, you could not gain entry to a university in the UK unless you had the fortune to be born into the higher classes. I wasn’t; I was the child of a poor single mother, and female, both of which would have precluded my receiving any education at all in previous eras. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">So, I am not waxing nostalgic about a time when most people were excluded from university education. But there was a golden age in both Europe and the United States, after World War II, and the GI Bill, when higher education was opened to all, based on merit rather than money, sex, or class. That was a time when you could afford to go to college regardless of your background, and you could devote yourself to getting a liberal arts education rather than viewing higher education as vocational. Technical and vocational schools were for the non-college-bound, the electricians and hair dressers, a grey area between blue- and white-collar work that requires some training beyond high school. They serve as a modern replacement for apprenticeship.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Now, the pandemic has caused most colleges and universities in the United States to send students home to finish out the spring semester via online learning. Graduation ceremonies have been cancelled, and whether in-person learning will resume in the autumn is as yet undecided. Some high school seniors are choosing to take a gap year, attend school online or closer to home, or forego college altogether. Schools have been pressed to partially refund room and board money for the spring semester, and students are suing to recover a portion of their tuition, arguing that the hastily arranged online versions of their courses are not an equivalent learning experience. Federal aid has so far pumped $14 billion into schools that are haemorrhaging money, laying off staff and faculty, and facing potential closure, but it’s a drop in the proverbial bucket. Schools have requested $50 billion more, just as an initial Band-Aid, with hundreds of billions more needed to keep them from closing if enrolment drops in the fall, as it is almost guaranteed to do.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">That money will not be forthcoming from Congress so schools will close, and with their closure the traditional college experience will disappear forever. </span>In a post-pandemic world, small colleges with quaint, picture-postcard campuses will have closed, and students will be stuck with dodgy online schools, community colleges, or big universities with ugly, modern buildings. The transfer of learning opportunities to new environments will deprive future students of the opportunity to spend four of their most formative years on the quad, learning purely for its own sake, enjoying an idyllic, transitional time between childhood and adulting, developing a moral compass, and a sense of their place in the history of learning. No online course can replicate having an engaging, intellectually-stimulating class in a historic building on a crisp autumn day, watching the leaves change outside the classroom windows. No more discussions spilling over into communal meals in the dining hall, followed by late night study sessions in the library, and deep conversations in the dormitory common rooms. These experiences are a vital part of the learning process; they cannot be replicated online nor in ugly, modern facilities.</div>
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I mourn the loss of the college campus and the traditional college experience. It's a vital part of growing up to be an intelligent, educated adult. I worry, from the perspective of historic preservation, what will happen to the campuses when so many schools close. But there isn't a damn thing I can do about it. The forces of anti-intellectualism and capitalist greed have won out over aesthetics and learning. Knowledge, as it turns out, isn't power. </div>
Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-26578422452694224682020-03-31T15:46:00.002-04:002020-03-31T15:46:29.287-04:00Post-Pandemic, Expect a Swift Return to Status Quo Ante<i>This pandemic should be a wake-up call to decrease economic inequality. Instead it will exacerbate it.</i><br />
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If every country had locked down sooner, the spread of the virus could have been arrested.<br />
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If the Chinese had recognised its pandemic potential sooner and prevented people from travelling abroad, it could have been contained within China.<br />
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If China had caught it even earlier, it might even have been contained within Hubei, the province where it originated.<br />
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If factory farms and consumption of wild animals had been eliminated after previous pandemics, we’d have fewer zoonotic viruses to fight.<br />
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If the virus hadn’t struck near the time of the Chinese New Year festivities, when Chinese emigrants travel home to celebrate then fly back to the countries into which they have immigrated (e.g. northern Italy), then the spread would have been slower, with more time for countries to react.<br />
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If governments at all levels had learned from previous pandemics to have a plan in place in anticipation of the (inevitable) next one, it could have been activated in a dispassionate, nonpartisan manner without time-consuming bickering about the appropriate response.<br />
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If supplies of PPE had been stockpiled against future need, demand would be less likely to exceed supply in a crisis.<br />
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If people practiced social distancing, with or without government guidance, the number of infections would be considerably less.<br />
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If tests weren’t withheld to keep infection numbers artificially low, we’d have a better estimate of actual cases.<br />
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If death certificates weren’t fudged with other causes of death to hide COVID-19 fatalities, we’d have a much more accurate tally of how many deaths are attributable to this virus.<br />
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If, if, if. As the human and economic toll mounts daily, we are justifiably wracked with self-recrimination for not doing more, sooner, to contain the virus. Will ‘we’, speaking broadly for humanity, both citizens and government officials, learn from our COVID-19 mistakes and act with more alacrity the next time a novel virus is suspected in a patient? I doubt it. I’m finding it hard to be optimistic. Rather than “buck stops here” mea culpas from elected officials, we are getting <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2020/03/31/everyone-everything-trump-has-blamed-his-coronavirus-response/" target="_blank">blame-shifting</a> and denial. Rather than increasing international coordination and cooperation, we are seeing a free-for-all fight for PPE and medical equipment, and a refusal to accept aid by countries that need it, such as <a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2020/03/iran-leader-refuses-cites-coronavirus-conspiracy-theory-200322145122752.html" target="_blank">Iran</a> and <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/31/world/asia/north-korea-coronavirus.html" target="_blank">North Korea</a>, based on pride and propaganda rather than public health considerations. Many countries are limiting testing for COVID-19 to keep numbers low. Federal officials in some countries, such as <a href="https://www.reuters.com/article/us-health-coronavirus-brazil/brazils-bolsonaro-walks-back-decree-to-suspend-worker-pay-amid-coronavirus-idUSKBN21A27O" target="_blank">Brazil</a>, <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/mar/25/coronavirus-advice-from-mexicos-president-live-life-as-usual" target="_blank">Mexico</a>, and the <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2020/03/trump-ensuring-worst-possible-outcome-coronavirus-crisis/607867/" target="_blank">United States</a>, have been locked in often vitriolic opposition to state and local officials over the question of whether to shut down businesses, with citizens caught in the middle, sometimes taking it upon themselves to self-isolate and expressing frustration and disgust with their political leaders.<br />
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This depressing pattern does not hold true for every country. Some affluent European and Asian countries, such as <a href="https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2020-03-30/denmark-raises-wage-compensation-scheme-ceiling-amid-high-demand" target="_blank">Denmark</a> and <a href="https://www.npr.org/sections/goatsandsoda/2020/03/26/821688981/how-south-korea-reigned-in-the-outbreak-without-shutting-everything-down" target="_blank">South Korea</a>, managed to take steps to save both lives and businesses. But they are outliers, with smaller, and more homogeneous, populations who have higher levels of trust in their governments. The delayed and mixed response of most of the world is disheartening. Even when national and subnational governments get their act together to enforce social distancing, people resist and defy directives that have been issued solely to protect them. Except for totalitarian governments who exert control over citizens to preserve their own power and enforce their ideology, governments are now making a trade-off between public health and the economy that has the potential to get them booted from power. Electorates reward incumbents in good times and punish them in bad times, regardless of their actual responsibility for economic conditions, which don’t usually correspond to election cycles in any case. A government who saves its citizens lives but sends the country into a recession is setting itself up for electoral vengeance, however undeserved.<br />
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What will the “if only” self-recriminations, electoral punishments, and economic fallout mean for the future? Ed Yong, in his March 25 piece for <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2020/03/how-will-coronavirus-end/608719/" target="_blank">The Atlantic</a>, opines:<br />
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“Veterans of past epidemics have long warned that American society is trapped in a cycle of panic and neglect. After every crisis—anthrax, SARS, flu, Ebola—attention is paid and investments are made. But after short periods of peacetime, memories fade and budgets dwindle. This trend transcends red and blue administrations. When a new normal sets in, the abnormal once again becomes unimaginable. But there is reason to think that COVID-19 might be a disaster that leads to more radical and lasting change.”</blockquote>
I don’t agree; once social distancing directives are removed, I predict a swift return to status quo ante. That is an empirical prediction, not a normative wish. We should use this as a learning opportunity, to address global health, economic inequality, authoritarian regimes, lack of education, the idiocy of religious belief. Last year a troubling statistic went viral in the United States: 40% of Americans could not scrounge up $400 in an emergency. The support for pseudo-populists like <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2020/mar/30/trump-republican-party-voting-reform-coronavirus" target="_blank">Trump</a> and <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2020/03/coronavirus-pandemic-herd-immunity-uk-boris-johnson/608065/" target="_blank">Johnson</a> and <a href="https://www.forbes.com/sites/lisettevoytko/2020/03/31/brazils-bolsonaro-blasted-for-coronavirus-response-as-twitter-facebook-remove-post/#118e0a182255" target="_blank">Bolsonaro</a> around the world, and genuine populists like Bernie Sanders, the anti-immigrant sentiments, the rise in racism and sexism, are a direct result of growing economic inequality. We are returning to a feudal society of a wealthy 1% and a peasant population dependent upon the crumbs the rich deign to bestow in wages, benefits, a social safety net. There has been an undercurrent of rage that has been simmering for years as the middle class has shrunk and younger generations are unable to achieve the standard of living of their elders. Between the financial insecurity of the gig economy and never-ending student loan payments, hallmarks of adulthood like savings and home ownership are increasingly out of reach for even college graduates, hence the alarming statistic about nearly half the population being unable to find $400 in a pinch.<br />
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The most compelling lesson of this pandemic has nothing to do with viruses, public health, political leadership, or culture. There are fascinating and important lessons to be gleaned from all those facets but they pale in comparison to the simple fact that most of the world’s population, even in the wealthiest developed countries, still lives hand to mouth and is one paycheque away from not being able to pay current bills. Measures to delay rent and mortgage payments, prevent utilities from being disconnected, temporarily pause student loan payments, and halt evictions are only necessary because so many people are unable to survive for even a week without pay. The wealthy have tried their usual avocado toast blame game, but no-one is buying it this time. It’s impossible to deny that the reason so many people don’t have even a month’s cushion in savings is not because of too many lattes but because they—we, I should say, as I am part of this cohort—are not earning enough to save. It’s not self-indulgence stopping us from saving and investing; it’s a lack of jobs that pay a living wage.<br />
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If nothing else changes, post-COVID-19, this glaring problem should be addressed. Imagine the situation today if every individual and business had 6 months of savings to draw on. The damage to the economy, the need for taxpayer-funded relief packages, the failure of businesses and looming homelessness and crushing debt for so many Americans would disappear.<br />
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But it won’t. Nothing will change. The wealthy will turn this crisis to their advantage, squeezing even more money out of the poor in interest and penalties for every bill paid late. I am sure the credit card companies are salivating at the prospect of all the interest and penalties they will be able to charge. Expect creditors to raise interest rates. Expect employers to lower wages, cut benefits, and not hire back much of their laid-off workforce, using the shutdown as an excuse to retool their businesses to lower overhead and increase profits. We were living in a world that catered to the very rich at the expense of everyone else. That world hasn’t changed because a few hundred thousand mostly elderly people have died of a virus. The rich will continue to get richer and the poor will get poorer. This pandemic should be a wake-up call to decrease economic inequality. Instead it will exacerbate it.Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-35523630491194490972020-03-30T18:02:00.005-04:002020-03-30T18:04:04.557-04:00Another Battle Front in the War on WomenChildbirth has always been dangerous for both the women and babies involved. In the developed world, dangers from lack of medical care have been replaced by dangers from overly aggressive, unnecessary and harmful medical interventions. Every birth is a battle in the war between women and medical staff, and there can only be one winner: Either the woman and baby win or the medical staff wins. Women have only three defensive weapons to bring to their personal childbirth battles against medical staff: 1) Knowledge that the medical interventions being forced on them are unnecessary and unhealthy; 2) The word "NO!"; and, 3) a personal advocate, such as the baby's father or a doula.<br />
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That last defensive weapon is critical because a woman in labour is not in the ideal position to fight verbally, or physically if necessary, against intrusive medical staff who are determined to violate her bodily integrity and harm both her and her baby physically and psychologically.<br />
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The novel coronavirus pandemic prompted some hospitals in the United States to issue policies forbidding visitors—including birth partners. In practice this means women giving birth during the pandemic would be forced to give birth with only medical staff present, and new fathers would not get to meet their children until the mother and child's release from hospital.<br />
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To say I have been apoplectic with rage over this new policy is a gross understatement. My fury and frustration have been incandescent. Without someone on her side, a woman goes into battle with just two of those three defensive weapons, and the results will be catastrophic for both mothers and babies. A woman should not need a back-up to her birth plan and the word "NO!", but, in practice, a spouse or doula to reinforce the "NO!" is crucial to avoiding a cascading series of harmful interventions. (Which is not to say that all partners behave as advocates: Some side with medical staff and put additional pressure on their partners to acquiesce to harmful medical interventions.)<br />
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Medical staff undoubtedly reacted with glee to the prospect of having their victims even more at their mercy, but their cruel pleasure was short-lived in New York. I first found out about this barbaric policy a few days ago, a violation of both domestic and international human rights law, and specifically forbidden as a response to COVID-19 by the WHO, when Columbia-Presbyterian Hospital in NYC announced it and it trended on Twitter.<br />
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Today, I read that this cruel and harmful policy has been overruled by the state. According to <a href="https://www.npr.org/2020/03/30/823575358/pregnant-women-worry-about-pandemics-impact-on-labor-delivery-and-babies" target="_blank">this piece on NPR</a>, "...earlier this month some New York hospitals told pregnant women they couldn't have any support person during childbirth. Within a week the state health department had prohibited that policy."<br />
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Thank goodness. Birthing women have a hard enough time battling medical staff without depriving them of one of their few weapons to protect their own health, and the health of their children.Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-9270032682482958242020-03-25T00:11:00.000-04:002020-03-26T17:44:12.475-04:00Death-Defying Baking: Dark Chocolate Cranberry Cardamom Muffins<i>I love to bake but I need to reduce my sugar consumption for my health and longevity. To this end, I’ve embarked on a crusade to bake more healthfully. This post is part of my Death-Defying Baking series.</i><br />
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Once again, I’ve started with a recipe from <a href="https://sallysbakingaddiction.com/" target="_blank">Sally’s Baking Addiction</a>. I love her vast collection of baking recipes; it's one of my first “go to” sites when I am looking for ideas for a particular ingredient (e.g. cranberries) or variations on a theme (e.g. zillions of different types of chocolate chip cookies). Her recipes are meticulously tested, which gives me confidence to make healthy substitutions and expect good results: I know that I am starting with a well-designed recipe. I also find her photographs particularly mouth-watering.<br />
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During the holiday season I buy lots of cranberries but often don’t get around to using them all. Luckily, they keep for months in the fridge, which explains why I am still baking with fresh cranberries in March. I bookmarked this <a href="https://sallysbakingaddiction.com/cranberry-cardamom-spice-muffins/" target="_blank">Cranberry Cardamom Spice Muffins</a> recipe sometime in the fall, but just got around to baking them today for a COVID-19 isolation breakfast. Some of my variations here are made to healthy-up the recipe but others are based on personal preference and available ingredients.<br />
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•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1 and 3/4 cups (220g) all-purpose flour<br />
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<u><span style="color: red;">SUBSTITUTION</span></u> (health): I ONLY bake with whole wheat flour.<br />
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•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1 teaspoon baking soda<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1 teaspoon baking powder<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1 teaspoon cardamom<br />
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<u><span style="color: red;">SUBSTITUTION</span></u> (personal preference): I used 2 teaspoons for a stronger cardamom flavor.<br />
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•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon<br />
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<u><span style="color: red;">SUBSTITUTION</span></u> (personal preference): Likewise, I used 1 teaspoon cinnamon for a spicier muffin.<br />
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•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1/2 teaspoon salt<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1/2 cup (115g) unsalted butter, softened<br />
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<u><span style="color: red;">SUBSTITUTION</span></u> (health): I used 5 tablespoons butter and 3 tablespoons unsweetened apple sauce to lower the fat and calorie content, as well as add some moisture, which is needed when baking with whole wheat flour.<br />
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•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>3/4 cup (150g) granulated sugar<br />
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<u><span style="color: red;">SUBSTITUTION</span></u> (health): I used ¼ cup granulated sugar. I found this more than enough and will use 1/8 cup next time I make these muffins.<br />
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•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>2 large eggs, at room temperature<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1/2 cup (120g) sour cream<br />
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<u><span style="color: red;">SUBSTITUTION</span></u> (health): I used nonfat yoghurt in lieu of sour cream. I do think they’d be delicious with sour cream and might indulge during the holiday season.<br />
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•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1/3 cup (80ml) milk<br />
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<u><span style="color: red;">SUBSTITUTION</span></u> (allergy): My partner is lactose intolerant so I used unsweetened soy milk. I do sometimes use raw milk in baking. I expect that your milky substance of choice would work in this recipe—cow, goat, almond, oat, etc.<br />
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•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>zest of 1 orange<br />
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<u><span style="color: red;">SUBSTITUTION</span></u> (preference): I omitted the orange. Cranberry-orange is a classic flavour combination, but I don't like orange and chocolate together.<br />
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•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1/2 cup (63g) chopped walnuts<br />
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<u><span style="color: red;">SUBSTITUTION</span></u> (preference): I omitted the walnuts. With rare exceptions, I don't like nuts in baked goods.<br />
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•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1 and 1/2 cups (187g) fresh or frozen cranberries (do not thaw if using frozen)<br />
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<u><span style="color: red;">ADDITION</span></u>: 2 cups dark chocolate chips<br />
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The recipe calls for an orange or maple glaze, which I <u><span style="color: red;">omitted</span></u> both to reduce the sugar/calorie content and to keep the flavour focus on the cranberry/chocolate/spice combo.<br />
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I was intrigued by Sally’s claim that these muffin cups can be filled right to the top rather than the usual ¾ full because the method of baking at 425F for 5 minutes then turning the heat down to 350F will cause the muffins to rise straight up rather than spill over. I was concerned that my numerous substitutions might have changed the characteristics of the batter in ways that would preclude this supposed rise, but I decided to risk it and filled the muffin cups to the brim. My muffin trays seem to be larger than standard as I never get as many muffins as promised in a recipe. In this case, I got 8 1/2 rather than 12, which is fine as I’d rather have fewer, larger muffins.<br />
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They spread a wee bit—you can see the two at the bottom getting a bit amorous and not practicing proper social distancing. But I could not be more pleased with them. The kitchen, and the muffins themselves, smell wonderfully enticing, and the spice/cranberry/dark chocolate combination is heavenly. I put <i>a lot</i> of chocolate chips in, which makes every bite super chocolatey. The cranberry/chocolate combination is a favourite of mine.<br />
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It is not hyperbole to say that these are by far the most delicious muffins I have ever made.Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-57882147596959814922020-03-13T14:19:00.000-04:002020-03-26T21:27:11.471-04:00Trump to cancel elections, declare martial law, zombie apocalypse, today at 3pm "Dumpster-Fireside Chat"The market was rallying this morning until the Orange House announced that its current resident, Cheetolini, is planning to French kiss Sophie Grégoire Trudeau on live television at 3pm EDT to Prove to Wall Street that he has COVID-29 licked. After this announcement, the market immediately began to tank again.<br />
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Bets are currently waging as to whether His Massive Ineptitude will blame the global pandemic on Obama, "Sleepy Joe," or Hillary's emails. (My money's on the latter—who knows what was mouldering in those private servers.)<br />
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Thank goodness for closed captioning, because no sane person can bear to watch Trump's speeches with the sound on. Usually, it's steadier on the nerves to just wait and read the transcript afterward. By this point in Trump's reign, we've all gotten past our initial assumption that the transcriptionist must be drunk and adjusted to the staggering fact that, no, he really did say that.<br />
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Speaking of drinking, due to the urgent situation underlying today's vacuous blowharding, some of us will reluctantly tune-in live. To make Trump's mendacious, self-serving rambling more endurable, I propose a drinking game.<br />
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Drink each time Trump...<br />
<br />
...praises himself for what a great job he is doing.<br />
...blames Obama for his own administration's failure to prepare for a pandemic.<br />
...explains that he doesn't want to have more Americans tested for COVID-19 because low numbers make him look better.<br />
...gloats that the $1.5 trillion pumped into Wall Street yesterday is helping to stabilise and recover the markets, which is the only thing he cares about.<br />
...claims to understand the science-y stuff better than anyone because his uncle taught at MIT, blah, blah.<br />
...explains that the UK is exempted from the European travel ban because he has resorts there and he can make deals with Boorish Johnson because of Brexit that he can't make with those namby-pamby democratic socialist leaders in those other European countries that snigger at him behind his back, and they don't speak English in those other countries anyway.<br />
...refers to the "do-nothing Democrats" in Congress without mentioning that it's the GOP that is preventing passage of COVID-19 relief legislation.<br />
...blames Obama one more time for his own failings.<br />
...whines that everything good that happens is 100% due only to him but nothing bad is ever his fault.<br />
...frames COVID-19 as a "foreign" virus & claims that keeping them damn furriners out will prevent "real Americans," i.e., his base, from getting it.<br />
...claims he won't be tested because he "feels great".<br />
...says it's too bad that Trudeau's wife has the virus because she's not a bad looker for her age.<br />
...blames Obama one more time.<br />
...announces payroll tax cuts will fix everything. Bonus sip if he throws in elimination of capital gains tax.<br />
...offers more financial relief to big businesses & wealthy individuals rather than working people who need it.<br />
...declares a national emergency and says it means he can do anything he wants, but he always could anyway so he doesn't see the difference, and now say hello to your new Dicktator for Life.<br />
...down the rest of your glass if he says elections will have to be postponed.<br />
...if he cancels elections and declares martial law, finish the bottle.<br />
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Until then, enjoy your day buying toilet paper and shorting stocks.<br />
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P.S. Whoever coined the term "Dumpster-Fireside Chat" deserves a free bottle of their favourite tipple. You won the Internet today.Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-58751177425510838022019-05-04T18:30:00.000-04:002019-05-13T21:27:59.531-04:00The Price of Hope<div class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;">
I received some disappointing fertility news last night. The way I deal with things is to explain them to (mostly unwilling) people (who are trying valiantly to be polite) so, as my reluctant captive audience, you might want to pause here to get a drink and make yourself comfortable.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ll start with the general and move to the specific.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The first IVF (so-called “test tube” although conception actually takes place in a Petri dish, much more romantic) baby, <a href="https://www.louisejoybrown.com/" target="_blank">Louise Brown</a>, was born in Manchester in 1978. The second was born in <a href="https://www.thebetterindia.com/129159/subhash-mukherjee-doctor-india-first-test-tube-baby/" target="_blank">India</a>, which, frankly, surprises me, as the last thing India needs is help increasing its population. Oddly, the third was born in Glasgow and the fourth in Melbourne, which makes the British Empire IVF pioneers. The sun never sets on British fertility?<o:p></o:p></div>
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The original purpose of IVF was to help couples in their 20s and 30s who could not conceive the old-fashioned way. Brown’s mother had blocked tubes, and other early adopters of the procedure had low sperm count. IVF was emphatically <i>not </i>established to address age-related infertility. In fact, as its commercialisation spread <a href="https://www.fertstert.org/article/S0015-0282(13)02586-7/fulltext" target="_blank">(over 5 million IVF babies had been born worldwide by 2012)</a>, most clinics had a cut-off age of mid-30s.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But age at first birth has been rising, with women delaying motherhood to pursue higher education, careers, financial stability, and to find an appropriate partner. Also, some women who had children young are remarrying and wanting to have a child with their new partner. (There is much that could be said about the economic and relationship factors that push women to delay childbearing, not least a discussion of student loans, parental leave, cost of childcare, and the career penalty of the “mommy track”, but I’ll leave that for another post.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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IVF clinics are in the business of making money, and they make loads of it (get it, loads…never mind). A single IVF cycle can cost upwards of $25K in the U.S., and it’s typical for women to endure up to 7 cycles before getting pregnant or (more likely) giving up. Clinics have responded to the demand for services by women in their 40s by raising their age limits. But, since they rely on success rates to lure new clients, and IVF success over age 42 is unlikely, they face a conundrum: Do they take people’s money, when they know the chances of a live birth are essentially zero, and lower their stats, or turn away potentially lucrative clients who will ignore the statistics in their desperation to have a baby? In some cases, <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/articles/15Cb0H2hcvrHxCYSzY4Q1hx/ivf-for-55-year-olds-is-a-woman-ever-too-old-to-have-a-baby" target="_blank">regulators have stepped in</a>, with <a href="https://www.fertilityclinicsabroad.com/ivf-abroad/" target="_blank">some countries setting an age limit on IVF</a>. Insurance will not cover it over a certain age, usually somewhere between 39-42. But the main solution clinics have found is the use of donor eggs (and, in cases where male infertility is a factor, or the woman is single or gay, donor embryos).<o:p></o:p></div>
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Age is no barrier when eggs from younger women are utilized. Assuming she is otherwise healthy enough to sustain a pregnancy and give birth, an 80-year-old woman could bear a donor-egg child. IVF success rates with OE (own egg) drop dramatically over age 35, and become essentially zero after age 42, but <a href="https://www.gla.ac.uk/news/archiveofnews/2015/december/headline_438380_en.html" target="_blank">there is <i>no </i>decrease in success rates with DE (donor eggs)</a>.<br />
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For women who choose to use donor eggs, and who have no fertility issues besides egg quality, success is virtually guaranteed. But some women don't want to use donor eggs. These women are on the cutting edge of IVF, pushing doctors and clinics to use their own eggs despite the odds. So far, success has been elusive. Egg quality is the problem.<br />
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<b><i>It’s ALL about the egg.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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Whereas men are continually producing sperm (always a good excuse to get out of housework, “Sorry, honey, busy making sperm right now. I can paint the garage or we can have a baby, your choice.”), <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/science/2016/oct/07/evidence-suggests-womens-ovaries-can-grow-new-eggs" target="_blank">a woman is born with all the eggs she will ever have</a>. Yes, it sounds somewhat ironic, that we are making all of our eggs when we ourselves are still foetuses. Female fertility commences at puberty, when hormones stimulate the follicles in which those eggs reside to begin maturing. Fertility declines as that reserve of eggs dies (follicular atresia) and some get used up via ovulation. Of the 1-2 million eggs present at birth, about 90% will have died off by age 30. By age 50, most women are nearly out of eggs.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Why does it matter that so many die off? We have plenty to spare: Since a woman ovulates one egg per month for about 40 years, she uses less than 500 of that million-egg stash. The issue is egg quality. Even if a woman ovulates religiously every month into her 50s, her chances of a viable pregnancy decline rapidly after age 30 and precipitously after age 40. The reason for this drastic decline in fertility is an increase in chromosomal abnormalities in the eggs. In your 20s, one out of 10 eggs that you ovulate will be chromosomally abnormal. In your 40s, all 10 will be abnormal.</div>
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These DNA hiccups don’t always prevent conception from occurring but, in the days following conception, as the aneuploid blastocyst divides, it is nonviable. An aneuploid blastocyst either fails to implant or fails so soon after implantation that the woman gets her period as normal and has no idea that conception occurred. This very early pregnancy failure happens in about 70% of all pregnancies, even in young women, but is usually invisible. With the invention of super-sensitive home pregnancy tests that can detect the weakest rise in hCG, impatient women who are desperately hoping to conceive obsessively test early, get a positive result, and then are gutted when they get their period. It's smart to wait until your period is late rather than test early and be disappointed by these extremely common early failures. But most women whose biological clocks are ticking loudly and thus are desperate that <i>this has to be the month</i> don't have that kind of patience and take advantage of the new early tests only to be let down when their period arrives on schedule despite a positive pregnancy test.<br />
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Cruelly, some chromosomal abnormalities take longer to manifest. The woman misses her period, celebrates a positive pregnancy test, perhaps even tells her partner or announces it to the world, and the early pregnancy progresses normally, but then the aneuploid (abnormal) embryo reaches a point in foetal development where it fails. This causes a miscarriage usually within the first 5-12 weeks of pregnancy. Later miscarriages, and stillbirths, are also caused by these chromosomal abnormalities. <i>A 49-year-old woman who conceived naturally has a 99% chance of miscarriage in the first trimester</i>. That percentage goes down only slightly in the second, with the chances of stillbirth so high in the third that there is overall a <i>less than 1% chance of a woman who conceived naturally at 49 having a live birth</i>.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In some cases, the chromosomal abnormalities are not incompatible with life and are discovered via in utero testing. So, the few women who don’t miscarry end up needing abortions when abnormalities are detected in utero. (Some women choose not to get tested, or to carry to term even when tests have shown that their foetus is abnormal. I find that unconscionable but that is a subject for another post.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Conventional wisdom says that these abnormalities occur because the eggs are “old”. But that’s a misleading view. Men have the same problem: Male fertility declines slightly in the 30s and dramatically in the 40s and 50s due to chromosomal abnormalities in sperm. <i>A miscarriage in a woman in her 40s is just as likely to be a result of an abnormality in her partner’s sperm as in her egg, unless he is considerably younger.</i> Since sperm are made fresh every day, it isn’t the age of the sperm themselves that is the problem. It is not known why abnormalities in both sperm and eggs increase with time but it’s the same with all the cells of our bodies, and may be due to environmental, lifestyle, nutrition, or other factors we haven’t discovered yet. The point is errors in meiosis increase with age and, whilst they may not prevent conception, they prevent viable pregnancy. If you get pregnant over 40, you are almost guaranteed to have a miscarriage, not a live baby, at the end of it.</div>
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IVF could change all that. In a normal cycle, one egg matures and is released at ovulation. If it’s a dud, you have to wait a month for another go. The IVF process involves hyper-stimulating the ovaries with drugs to mature multiple eggs at once, the more the merrier. I don't want to do it; it’s gruelling, disruptive, and risky: the woman must inject hormones into her abdomen daily, which have both unpleasant and potentially dangerous side effects, and endure repeated invasive and undignified procedures, including surgical retrieval of however many eggs she has succeeded in maturing. (The male role in all this is to watch some porn and jerk off in a cup, but no-one said life was fair).<o:p></o:p></div>
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Once the eggs are fertilized in the aforementioned Petri dish (most labs play Ravel’s “Bolero”, but some have reported higher success rates with Prince), they can be genetically tested before implantation. The more embryos you have to test, the higher the chance that one will be chromosomally normal (euploid).<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;">So why are clinics steering women over 40 to egg donation? Two reasons:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1)<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">It’s common in women over 40 for a retrieval of 10 eggs to result in 10 aneuploid embryos. It can take many exhausting and expensive IVF cycles to get even </span><i style="text-indent: -0.25in;">one </i><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">euploid embryo, and then you have to factor in implantation success rates, which are quite low for all age groups.</span><br />
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2)<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">In order for the IVF drugs to stimulate multiple eggs to mature, a woman must have a reserve of eggs available. Reproductive endocrinologists (REs) assess ovarian reserve in two ways: By counting follicles during an ultrasound and by measuring the blood levels of a hormone called AMH (Anti-Müllerian Hormone—</span><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2019/05/01/us/politics/william-barr-testimony.html" style="text-indent: -0.25in;" target="_blank">Attorney General Barr seems to produce an excess</a><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">, but that’s another story…rimshot). AMH is excreted by developing follicles. It peaks at puberty and decreases until menopause, when there are no more developing follicles. The desired level is 1.0-2.5. Levels of 0.7-0.9 give you some chance, but levels below 0.6 are considered an indication that your ovaries are running out of eggs and have closed up shop. At this AMH level, via ultrasound one can usually see them displaying little “retired, moved to The Algarve” signs. Even the most aggressive IVF protocol won’t result in any mature eggs for retrieval in women with low AMH because there aren’t enough eggs left.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;">The pressure to use donor eggs is egregious. Most REs refuse to treat an</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;">y woman over 42 who wants to use her own eggs. But that is changing. A few years ago, one clinic in Illinois agreed to treat women up to age 45. Others have followed, with one infamous clinic in upstate NY treating women up to age 49. Success rates have been low so far: The oldest baby born to a woman using OE IVF was </span><a href="https://www.ivfbabble.com/2018/06/two-47-year-old-us-women-conceive-using-eggs-new-study-shown/" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif;" target="_blank">47</a><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;">, a record achieved in 2018, beating the previous record of 45, set in 2014. But success rates may be low in part because the number of women </span><i style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif;">trying </i><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;">to use their own eggs is still low. As more women delay childbearing, and more clinics become willing to let them try OE IVF, </span><a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/29936089" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif;" target="_blank">expect to see success rates rise</a><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;">. Many women also go abroad, because foreign clinics are much less expensive and don’t care about success rates—they are eager to take desperate women’s money. There is now a clinic in Cyprus that will do OE IVF up to age 50. (They originally said 55 but the legal age limit is 47 and a crackdown made them lower it to 50. They're allowed some wiggle room because of the money IVF tourism brings into the country.)</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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This is where we move from the general to the specific: I want my own biological child, and I just turned 50 last Sunday. I delayed trying to conceive until I turned 40, at which point the ticking of the biological clock trumped financial and relationship considerations. I had one early miscarriage at 42 but no other conceptions (that I know of). I don’t have the money for IVF but the existence of that clinic in Cyprus is tantalizing. I realise they are peddling a fantasy: I am a social scientist; I understand statistics. But the desire for your own biological child pushes all realistic assessment of numbers from your mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A birthday is a time to assess where you are in life and make a plan for filling any gaps between where you are and where you want to be. This includes one's health. To that end, I've made appts for a variety of routine health screenings, including a fertility assessment. There is only one RE in my (rural) area. Luckily, he takes my insurance. My last attempts to see an RE, at ages 42 and 46, went poorly when they flat-out refused to treat me based on my age alone. I was a nervous wreck thinking this guy was going to laugh me out of his office. Yet, strangely, I also had a good feeling about him, and that was justified. He listened to my story, my hopes about the clinic in Cyprus, and he didn’t waste my time belaboring statistics I already know or trying to convince me to go the DE route. When he heard about my PSVT, he further impressed me by immediately referring me to a cardiologist he respects. That’s not under his purview so he didn’t have to take an interest.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In the end we agreed to the following: He would test my AMH levels that same day. At my age, every month counts; you cannot waste even one cycle. In two days, I would come back for a mid-cycle ultrasound. <b><i>IF </i></b>my AMH was high enough and <b><i>IF </i></b>my ovarian reserve and everything else looked good, he’d take me on. At this point, he leaned across the desk and declared that, if he did take me on, “it would make a full-court press look like a walk in the park”. I liked his attitude but there is one thing I didn’t tell him: If he were to initiate this aggressive egg priming protocol, I don’t have the money to go to Cyprus. But perhaps I could freeze eggs for use years hence when I can afford it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I initially thought the ultrasound went well: The tech saw follicles, with a burst one indicating ovulation had occurred, and she said everything looked normal. But the RE had a totally different interpretation. He saw only 3 total follicles (they like to see at least 10), at least two functional cysts (which are benign and common, occurring when the follicle that has ovulated reseals and fills with fluid; the problem is that a follicle can sometimes fill with fluid without releasing its egg first—the former type has no bearing on fertility, the latter type obviously does) and he found a birth defect known as a septate uterus, where a membrane that is supposed to disappear during foetal development still divides the uterus down the centre. It is very common and often causes miscarriage; a woman usually cannot carry a pregnancy to term unless the membrane is cut—a procedure that would be routine in a younger woman planning to have children, but which has never been done in someone my age. RE will likely be of the impression that I have no chance of pregnancy so no point in correcting the defect. Since it's elective—there are no health implications; it is purely to restore fertility—I don't know if my insurance would cover it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As for the AMH, late last night, after I was already in bed preparing to sleep, an email popped up from the lab: My AMH results were in, and my level was an abysmal 0.3. That is waaaaay below the minimum level for treatment. I was shocked and disappointed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But I am not giving up. I have been reading about ways to improve AMH levels, and even induce the ovaries to <a href="https://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2012/02/120229-women-health-ovaries-eggs-reproduction-science/" target="_blank">make new eggs from stem cells</a>. I am going to propose that I try these methods for 4 months and re-test in Sept. RE can’t say no to letting me re-test then, and maybe I’ll be in better financial shape. But I can’t deny that this AMH lab result and ultrasound were a major disappointment. I am NOT willing to forego having my own biological child; that is a crucial part of life. I’ve been feeling as grim as our rainy weather today, and trying to keep my hope, and spirits, up.<o:p></o:p></div>
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</style>Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-90227165426800723332017-11-20T01:19:00.001-05:002018-01-10T14:35:04.092-05:00Meet Kyle, Dumbass of the WeekIn case you've been living in a cave with no WiFi, let me introduce you to Kyle. At midnight (better known as save-in-draft-mode-until-morning-o'clock) on Thursday, Kyle decided that the world needed to hear these words of manly wisdom:<br />
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Kyle personifies 2017. Kyle has never seen a female orgasm so, instead of asking women about it, he mansplains that female orgasms must not exist. Social media now guarantees he will never see one—by noon on Thursday, Kyle's asinine, patronising post had gone viral. In football (soccer) they call this an "own goal."<br />
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Yes, instead of asking women about the female orgasm, he tells women they're a myth. Instead of considering that women might know more about our sexual experience than he does, he says we are wrong not to be sexually satisfied sans orgasms. I can't wait for his next post telling us we should be satisfied as helpmeets without education and careers.<br />
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Even if chauvinist Kyle refused to believe women about their own orgasms, a quick Google search would have informed him that male researchers have documented the physiology of the female orgasm. But he couldn’t be bothered because clearly his own research on the subject is definitive, and finding evidence that the female orgasm exists would mean facing what a loser he is in bed. I guarantee that Kyle has never fucked the same woman twice. No woman makes that mistake more than once. One commenter noted that apparently Kyle hasn't even had a woman bother to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oBWg6_cNsy8" target="_blank">fake an orgasm Katz's Delicatessen style</a>, implying he made so little effort that no one ever felt obliged to spare his feelings or give him some credit for the attempt.<br />
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Kyle's post is such an obvious indictment of his own skill that one can't but wonder if he is trolling. Who in their right mind would advertise, using his real name and photo, on a worldwide public billboard, "I AM TERRIBLE IN BED." To be fair, it was midnight, and we don't know what he was drinking/smoking, or if his roommate hacked his account. His post is reminiscent of Ryan Williams, the 19-year-old British assclown who, just over a year ago, tweeted "If a woman ‘cannot hold in her period until she gets to a toilet’ then it is her problem, not the taxpayer’s.” Last fall, the UK was considering removing the VAT (sales tax to Americans) on feminine hygiene products because they are a necessity. Three weeks later, after what he claimed were "death threats from feminists," he said his Tweetastrophe had been a hoax.<br />
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Ryan initially invoked a tiny amount of sympathy from people who thought he was ignorant due to poor education rather than assholery, but Kyle has no such excuse. He richly deserved the unlubricated public ass-reaming he received. Unless he is currently incarcerated in a maximum security single sex prison, in which case he would not have access to the internet, he could have simply asked a woman. Heck, even in Supermax, his fellow inmates would have told him he was full of shit.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijEBAxqrXDyx2t4HARRVzK8_mzEomp8qamldfiGyBfNdBvmFwTKcfl9Ci5ojDaYWKXJxoIrcvKXSHWoMfQB8vcoOs6kMq8ZfWd1_REB8lwEdfjbJ4BlIE8QL_CAIeOm7naZi_3Jm_xPJE/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-11-19+at+7.02.30+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="153" data-original-width="601" height="101" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijEBAxqrXDyx2t4HARRVzK8_mzEomp8qamldfiGyBfNdBvmFwTKcfl9Ci5ojDaYWKXJxoIrcvKXSHWoMfQB8vcoOs6kMq8ZfWd1_REB8lwEdfjbJ4BlIE8QL_CAIeOm7naZi_3Jm_xPJE/s400/Screen+Shot+2017-11-19+at+7.02.30+PM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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Perhaps, like most men of his generation, Kyle's sex education has come mainly through internet porn. There are female-friendly porn sites (trust me, I have them all bookmarked) but you can count them on your one (free) hand. 99.99999% of porn focuses on male pleasure. When women are depicted as having orgasms, it is not to showcase female pleasure but male prowess, and they are transparently fake, with none of the physiological signs of a real orgasm, which are delightfully apparent in the real deal.<br />
<br />
Those of us who had the luxury of misspending our youth before the internet but after the sexual revolution reached sexual maturity at a time when women expected to both give and receive sexual pleasure. From the time of our first awkward kiss onward, we never got our boyfriends off without extracting quid pro quo orgasms. Even the most fumbling, bumbling 80s teenage boy understood that pleasing his partner was non-negotiable.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7kAc2-ezABVLJuJTfbajTrMD67I4ogVmsqYkHOQLy3muL4qMPraKwl6A_d1EmU87ssI5T3jD38IrTrCIUkyB02oIbvKwg4w8pWrUb7C0_UoT6Lnw-oxZUXtbfYzYvFsrvrc8pUu6CWNU/s1600/e17b5ba9d9e5da58fbdaaa11fae183d7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="386" data-original-width="500" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7kAc2-ezABVLJuJTfbajTrMD67I4ogVmsqYkHOQLy3muL4qMPraKwl6A_d1EmU87ssI5T3jD38IrTrCIUkyB02oIbvKwg4w8pWrUb7C0_UoT6Lnw-oxZUXtbfYzYvFsrvrc8pUu6CWNU/s400/e17b5ba9d9e5da58fbdaaa11fae183d7.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
We assumed that subsequent generations of women would be even more sexually demanding; instead, they seem to be regressing. Boys raised on internet porn form their sexual expectations based on what they see onscreen. Since porn focuses exclusively on male pleasure, young men today don't consider female gratification. For a guy, being a good lover used to mean the ability to please his partner; now it means having lots of selfish, meaningless porn-style sex, parroting the anal, blowjobs, and degrading insults. No man under 40 has ever seen pubic hair. They don't see it in porn (where it is treated as a fetish) so young men don't expect to see it in real life and women have complied. In a recent survey, <a href="https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/au-naturel-or-barely-there-the-data-on-pubic-hair-preferences/" target="_blank">62% of women under 40 reported removing all of their pubic hair</a> and <a href="http://www.cosmopolitan.com/sex-love/a9535211/pubic-hair-removal-trends-stats/" target="_blank">40% of men</a> admitted to asking their partners to do so.<br />
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Consent is now emphasized on college campuses because the old double-standard survives in uneasy juxtaposition to hook-up culture. Women can have casual sex like men but they can't want it—they can't have sexual agency. It's the tired, old Madonna/whore complex but updated for the 21st century: Women aren't expected to be chaste—then they are harangued as prudes and of no interest/use to men—they just aren't expected to like or want sex themselves. College sex looks a lot like rape: Men initiate it and order women into the porn star contortions they've grown up watching. Young women comply but they are not saying "yes," they're just not saying "no." Depressingly, <a href="https://www.npr.org/2017/04/21/522862053/girls-sex-and-the-importance-of-talking-to-young-women-about-pleasure" target="_blank">studies of high school and college women show that the idea that they should get something out of the experience never crosses their minds</a>. Women over and under 40 give starkly different answers to the question, "Do you expect to have an orgasm during sex?" For younger women, <a href="https://www.alternet.org/sex-amp-relationships/orgasm-gap-real-reason-women-get-less-often-men-and-how-fix-it" target="_blank">sex seems to be more about pleasing the man than reciprocal</a>. I'd like to think that as women have made progress towards economic and social equality that progress would manifest in the bedroom but the reverse seems to be happening.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitd-N_MVyNj77PXwhybgfUMcHiDJsujVwI8x2h8CPWPcNiIGrYag7v0BuN-zTzt9tVjLv8_GEVqQX9p2hhqa3USomfWRd868hJm6SSLbXPpSPh3fIjdPguyKoaaU3blRVIHikT7y2_1VQ/s1600/34052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="454" data-original-width="544" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitd-N_MVyNj77PXwhybgfUMcHiDJsujVwI8x2h8CPWPcNiIGrYag7v0BuN-zTzt9tVjLv8_GEVqQX9p2hhqa3USomfWRd868hJm6SSLbXPpSPh3fIjdPguyKoaaU3blRVIHikT7y2_1VQ/s400/34052.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Although the female orgasm indisputably exists, it usually takes more time, effort, skill, and communication to bring off than the male version. There are doubtless evolutionary reasons for this—the biological purpose of female orgasm is still hotly debated. (Alas for that <a href="https://www.bustle.com/articles/66678-a-brief-history-of-the-female-orgasm-from-medieval-to-modern-times" target="_blank">brief era of medieval history</a> when it was thought to be as necessary as the male orgasm for conception.) In today's Tinder-driven hook-up culture, couples sometimes don't copulate more than once and it can take some practice together before even the most willing and considerate man learns how to get his woman off.<br />
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Those willing and considerate men are few and far between. When a recent survey asked college-age men if they cared if their partner orgasmed, they responded that they sometimes cared in a relationship but never in a hook-up. <a href="https://www.alternet.org/sex-amp-relationships/orgasm-gap-real-reason-women-get-less-often-men-and-how-fix-it" target="_blank">"I don't give a shit" said one. Hook-ups are understood by both men and women to be exclusively about male gratification. Women report not feeling comfortable asking their partner to help them cum, as if it is unreasonably demanding.</a><br />
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Kyle's mansplaining chauvinism indicates that he assumes sex is all about him: In his mind, women should be satisfied with being desired but not experience desire ourselves. We should be happy to settle for letting the Kyles of the world get off any way they choose to use our bodies and not expect any more from sex. Kyle's attitude fits perfectly into the culture that produced <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/08/24/opinion/the-medieval-roots-of-todd-akins-theories.html" target="_blank">Todd Akin, the Missouri Rep. who thinks women can't get pregnant from rape</a>, and <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2017/11/10/us/men-accused-sexual-misconduct-weinstein.html?_r=0" target="_blank">the growing list</a> of rich and powerful men whose history of viewing women as objects without independent agency is coming to light. And let's not forget the pussy-grabber-in-chief, who famously said on the Howard Stern show that "I couldn't care less" if the women he slept with got any pleasure. You're in great company, Kyle. Go fuck yourself.<br />
<br />Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-33115680594234145932017-11-12T23:58:00.000-05:002017-11-13T22:42:47.650-05:00Crushing the Fairy Tale<a href="http://www.piranhachicken.com/2017/08/tires-testicles-part-3.html" target="_blank">I wrote in a previous post</a> that I was agonising over the decision of whether or not to geld Silas. Today, I did it.<br />
<br />
Well, not me personally, although there have been days when I threatened to remove his balls on the spot, as every owner of a teenage colt does on occasion. After I researched the various surgical options (makes for delightful mealtime reading) and grilled the vet about everything from what anaesthesia he'd be using (Friesians don't do well with anaesthesia) to how he'd ensure no dust got in, the procedure was textbook. The vet sutured the blood vessels instead of just clamping them, and used a closed incision. We've had the first frost, so no more bugs. Too cold for hosing but he will be walked 3x/day to keep down swelling. He got up afterwards, walked off the grogginess, and started knickering for hay. He will now go from having two things on his mind—food and fillies or, as my father puts it, pizza and pussy—to having just the one.<br />
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I was not present. I knew that my worried mom anxiety would transfer to Silas and that my deep reluctance to geld him would manifest and I'd never go through with it. I'd be there for any other medical procedure; it's not squeamishness. Just not this particular one that represents the (literal) crushing of all my Friesian dreams.<br />
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Friesians are <a href="http://www.piranhachicken.com/2016/09/sorry-stephen-youve-been-fed-steaming.html" target="_blank">known as fairy tale horses</a> because of their over-the-top appearance, presence, and movement. But it's only the stallions that have it; no-one would ever mistake a Friesian mare or gelding for a stallion, or vice versa. That's not true of all breeds, and it's one of the reasons (the other being their sweet temperaments) that Friesians are often kept entire even if they are never bred. But, <a href="http://www.piranhachicken.com/2017/08/tires-testicles-part-3.html" target="_blank">as I covered in my previous post</a>, I lack the money to board Silas properly as a stallion, and at 14'2", he was never going to be an impressive exhibition horse, let alone a breeding candidate. It disheartened me not to be able to bring him to the keuring again this year. Since I got him, I have fantasised about that moment. Due to his height, my dream of having a magnificent Friesian stallion was already over even if he were never gelded. <br />
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All of the agony of the decision-making process is over and now I have to live with this irrevocable choice. It will be less expensive and easier to board him, and he can re-join his gelding friends in the big pasture. He will be happier. At least, that is what I keep telling myself. I don't know if geldings are really happier. They certainly have a calmer life without the hormones and it stands to reason that they are happier in groups since they are herd animals but it also may just be something we tell ourselves to feel better.<br />
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Horse people say, well, this horse may not be the Friesian stallion you dreamed of but that doesn't mean he isn't out there for you to connect with someday. That's true for many horse owners: Plans for one horse can be transferred to another, but it was only via an incredibly serendipitous series of lucky breaks that I got Silas at all. I don't have the money for another Friesian. If I did, I would get another Tjimme baby. Silas has a full brother, one year younger, who is 16' already and a magnificent baroque stallion, everything Silas should be. I am now pursuing driving with Silas since he is too small for me to ride but I haven't given up hope he will grow taller.<br />
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Before the surgery I was depressed and nervous about it. That was a great combo. Now, I am just depressed. I had a miserable day waiting, worrying, and forcing myself not to cancel the whole thing. There was ice cream involved. I am going to need a lot of cheering up this week.<br />
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Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-56657801954714427772017-11-05T23:56:00.002-05:002017-11-06T00:38:01.415-05:00It's Not Me, It's You<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikrUCHa1lKzfcxAZN6-m2nPe2YnbzAPIknCq1Bg3KXqMWHLlpi6DtsqKdlNk6yljhwZNgnnPEhE4Rp_5IsvmNFWGQaAGgijHxWgb2SKNtzNs882JiYSazR5HmSrFxaHwlYPQOgr4H_3ts/s1600/170187e088a09550f9e46ca72ff0b333--test-internet-finding-love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="236" data-original-width="236" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikrUCHa1lKzfcxAZN6-m2nPe2YnbzAPIknCq1Bg3KXqMWHLlpi6DtsqKdlNk6yljhwZNgnnPEhE4Rp_5IsvmNFWGQaAGgijHxWgb2SKNtzNs882JiYSazR5HmSrFxaHwlYPQOgr4H_3ts/s400/170187e088a09550f9e46ca72ff0b333--test-internet-finding-love.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">n recent posts, I have lamented the </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.piranhachicken.com/2017/09/more-tales-from-trenches.html"><span lang="EN-US">quality</span></a></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> and </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.piranhachicken.com/2017/10/not-good-week-for-women.html"><span lang="EN-US">types</span></a></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> of responses I have gotten to my profile
on an online dating site. A friend noted
that I seem to attract an unusual amount of hate mail. I view my profile as honest and
straightforward, detailing what I want and don't want to avoid wasting
everyone's time. Isn't the purpose of
online shopping to facilitate meeting someone who fits your criteria without
all that t</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">edious dating and getting to know someone only to find out they
double dip their chips or loathe giving head?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkLs5JDuYBpyAOw7FbIgNYv1l268S7J9H5rqDvCGlJH82FZdk1xlSMnLFmFZpbDa0jkm51X2VJ27KXUFGDQN8uCfA2sDfs8GbhyphenhyphenSJp3y5YvEXGFcrGJZE03-RfvPBChSb4XqOA4DT2kgI/s1600/22046455_1488290364599291_4170895225553949150_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="576" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkLs5JDuYBpyAOw7FbIgNYv1l268S7J9H5rqDvCGlJH82FZdk1xlSMnLFmFZpbDa0jkm51X2VJ27KXUFGDQN8uCfA2sDfs8GbhyphenhyphenSJp3y5YvEXGFcrGJZE03-RfvPBChSb4XqOA4DT2kgI/s400/22046455_1488290364599291_4170895225553949150_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I've received a few messages of awed
appreciation from men praising my profile as unique and refreshingly
blunt.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">But these men have all been quick
to add that they are just admirers, not contenders.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Most messages are from guys who have not read
my profile; they neither know nor care they don't fit its criteria.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Their usual practice is to send a generic
message to every woman whose photo they like, without bothering to check
profiles.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">There is almost zero chance
of getting a response, but it is also low risk/low effort.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">What I am waiting for is a message from a man
who has read my profile </span><i style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><u>and</u></i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">
fits my criteria.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">That's the only one I
want a response from.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">But I also get voluminous
hate mail, and a friend opined that my profile's bitter, virulent misandry is
pissing people off.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">There are also
likely to be men who fit my criteria but who find my profile so off-putting
they don't contact me.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I could
potentially be missing out on these guys who think, "I fit the bill, but I
don't want anything to do with this cold, sarcastic bitch."</span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">If I ostensibly want a relationship, why
is my profile so hostile?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0hBzZgWdJmjMYSVPAeg5R_p9FYILXc11MvZEYpW-jQdqj-US8R7Bnx-QVKpFhJ2wNtqeBTWIEh4MHq5HM4-HQAqIK6VCOIB943O5jYRj-AP_-FOdE9FV0PVlEs0YShHytykRlVxNGNd0/s1600/21-1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="328" data-original-width="300" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0hBzZgWdJmjMYSVPAeg5R_p9FYILXc11MvZEYpW-jQdqj-US8R7Bnx-QVKpFhJ2wNtqeBTWIEh4MHq5HM4-HQAqIK6VCOIB943O5jYRj-AP_-FOdE9FV0PVlEs0YShHytykRlVxNGNd0/s400/21-1.gif" width="365" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">It's a cliché that women form their
expectations of male behaviour from their parents' relationship, and other
relationships they observe in childhood. If dad's a dick, they gravitate
to dicks, confirming their expectations. Nice guys finish last...because
they're polite.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><rim shot></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Seriously, nice guys finish last because
women throw up defence mechanisms to avoid being vulnerable and because we
don't feel we deserve them. Women also like a challenge—that broody,
moody handsome guy you had a crush on in high school, who never gave you the
time of day, got you wetter than that nice plain guy you barely noticed who was
always waiting at the door on rainy days to hold an umbrella over you on the
way to the bus stop (cue every 80s John Hughes movie). It's human nature to want what we can't
have. This does not mean women want to
date jerks—</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/meet-catch-and-keep/201405/do-nice-guys-really-finish-last"><span lang="EN-US">science</span></a></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> has </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/nice-guys-dont-actually-finish-last-according-to-new-study_us_56b0bc1fe4b0fbfdd61530b4"><span lang="EN-US">thoroughly</span></a></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> debunked the myth that nice guys really
finish last—just that women will try to save the difficult guy from himself, perhaps
unconsciously trying to rewrite narratives they observed in childhood. I have never been attracted to macho bad boys
but one could find traces of the theme of "choosing a guy you need to remake
into what you want rather than one who already is what you want" in my relationship
choices:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-LAI3sXdStxmqmsJQ7D2uy-ZYGp3dF6oWg_pJNOpMugPNeW0sXHpyZegXgg8BNl8oTlyWIDSrLr72OYtvPZuaxnL8-A7Wu9KuF0ukpDk5jEE_yA27vjYEtZ1T7KN0Ge7VH5cT2oqvDE8/s1600/whiskymen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="593" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-LAI3sXdStxmqmsJQ7D2uy-ZYGp3dF6oWg_pJNOpMugPNeW0sXHpyZegXgg8BNl8oTlyWIDSrLr72OYtvPZuaxnL8-A7Wu9KuF0ukpDk5jEE_yA27vjYEtZ1T7KN0Ge7VH5cT2oqvDE8/s400/whiskymen.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I spent 7 years with someone who made it
clear from the first date that he didn't want a long-term relationship or any
responsibilities. I told myself he'd change, he'd want these things </span><i style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">with me</i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">. He tried repeatedly to
leave, assuring me that it wasn't my fault ("it's not you, it's me"),
it was just time for him to move on, before I finally got fed up, gave up, and
let him go. If he had stayed, it would have been to my detriment since he
was incapable of meeting my needs. 13 years later, he contacted me out of
the blue to say that the </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">only</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> problem
in our relationship had been that he wasn't ready to settle down and now he was
ready so would I come join him. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I replied
that it was presumptuous of him to assume that was the </span><i style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">only</i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> problem,
that a depressive sociopath was not the sort of partner I want, regardless if
he was ready to settle down. We've kept in touch lightly since then and
it's clear he hasn't changed and never will; I was naive in my 20s to hope
he would. But my point is that I chose someone who didn't want to settle
down and who couldn't meet my needs and tried to hold onto him for a long time
after both those things became undeniable rather than trying to find a guy
who </span><i style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">did</i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> want to settle down and who </span><i style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">could</i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> meet my needs. My expectations of men were low; I didn't
believe that I could leave him and find someone better because I didn't see him
as problematic as an </span><i style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">individual</i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">, a situation that could be remedied
by finding a different individual.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhujn-bZRdv8hMfixaDehJQDkoRoCpvhyphenhyphenulHEAFJoaRIfiYpoXkT1FFNRGhxUjX5Wp1Rnu2oJX-TSRvklEClqxutUt6UR8V8yngEzFsTj_xpZKAuck_zzMmmIBbWRXAqYHS30yMq_gTVHw/s1600/DNtHQ7BVwAAJSeL.jpg-large.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="847" data-original-width="481" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhujn-bZRdv8hMfixaDehJQDkoRoCpvhyphenhyphenulHEAFJoaRIfiYpoXkT1FFNRGhxUjX5Wp1Rnu2oJX-TSRvklEClqxutUt6UR8V8yngEzFsTj_xpZKAuck_zzMmmIBbWRXAqYHS30yMq_gTVHw/s400/DNtHQ7BVwAAJSeL.jpg-large.jpeg" width="226" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, no. She'd be the one calling "Next!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">As much as I tried to choose someone
very different in my next relationship, I again succumbed to the tyranny of low
expectations. I knew you can't change someone, yet I saw my younger,
insecure partner as another type of work-in-progress. I believed he was
the opposite of my previous partner, who was all surface charm with nothing
underneath. This one was a diamond in the rough; he just needed
polishing, literally and figuratively. Because it is the M.O. of
narcissists to make you feel like the centre of their universe at first,
reinforced by everyone he knew who told him how lucky he was to have me, and
because we were intellectually compatible, with many shared interests, taste,
lifestyle preferences, humour, etc., I overlooked the fact that he also did not
want to settle down nor was he capable of meeting my needs. As a
narcissist, he was a slave to his ego, and his life was devoted to feeding it.
At first, when I was feeding it, he was devoted to me, but that didn't
last. The monstrous ego of a narcissist is a gaping, bottomless well of
need, and because you only exist to meet their needs, you will never get any
emotional support in return. But I stayed anyway, because I didn't </span><i style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">expect</i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> any man to meet my needs.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">When he left me for a woman young enough to
be my daughter it seemed predictable and fitting: that's what men do.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I blamed myself: I had failed to feed his ego
and meet his needs, whereas his self-centred, gaslighting, immature behaviour
was just, to my jaded perception, being a typical male.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">As in my previous relationship, I did not identify
his faults as individual.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Of course relationships are more
complicated than a simple Freudian reduction to our basest motivations, but
both relationships, as dissimilar as they were, fit a narrative of having low
expectations of men and low expectations for what I deserved.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeHCFHOefKwhv8tdnC6BR4IO-1WarlatCu-rGQw5pd3lytMOACJ_qb_IEubko3agpjX1Kj5TbGmNaRQnJhxubY0XQBWk2Jdp-Ac-49oA4DW-H6Ce6qjFlKzsYvb1MCuIPK7vNGpnQKGkY/s1600/Bk6SKpKCAAA2xC1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="501" data-original-width="500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeHCFHOefKwhv8tdnC6BR4IO-1WarlatCu-rGQw5pd3lytMOACJ_qb_IEubko3agpjX1Kj5TbGmNaRQnJhxubY0XQBWk2Jdp-Ac-49oA4DW-H6Ce6qjFlKzsYvb1MCuIPK7vNGpnQKGkY/s400/Bk6SKpKCAAA2xC1.jpg" width="398" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I've had a few friends-with-benefits
situations with married men that were textbook older man/younger woman mutual
ego stroking. Of course they were going to cheat, that's what men do (low
expectations for men, although women cheat nearly as much). According to
this narrative, participating in a situation like that means that I don't think
I deserve a man who belongs to me. I'm reluctant to accept that because
there are features that make these situations appealing without resorting to a
self-deprecating explanation. Frustrating as they could be at times, some
of the constraints were useful because I got the best parts of a man—romance,
affection, hot sex—without having to put up with all the crap in a full-time
relationship. It was a fantasy veneer of a relationship, untainted by the
familiarity of day-to-day living that kills desire. I <i>never</i> lost sight of that nor deluded
myself that we could be a couple if they were single. Yes, it's unlikely
such a relationship would survive being together full-time with no impediments,
but then most relationships don't. It mightn't be as </span><span style="color: #c0504d; font-family: inherit;">hot</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> without the limited contact, the
clandestine nature, but then no full-time relationship stays hot indefinitely.
For the married person, having the benefits of a full-time partner and also
getting that excitement in your life is understandably appealing. You get
to have your cake and lick it, too. A lover keeps you in a better mood and
helps you put up with your partner for the long haul. These situations save many marriages: You
can express facets of yourself that you can't in your marriage, which lessens
frustration with your partner. In </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.connexionfrance.com/Archive/Men-relationships-and-infidelity"><span lang="EN-US">France</span></a></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> they take a civilised approach, where
it is understood that both partners in a long-term relationship will have
lovers. They view it as helping, rather than harming, the primary
relationship. For a single woman, having the benefits of living alone but
still having sex and romance in your life, is heaven. I don't think one
needs to justify its appeal with the belief that you don't deserve a man to
yourself.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQAGh1BRWwTwjrRpsmnkE0YsAb8XZDHf0jkwl6io86cUoDZwGTSSkm9KjWC9Q1HqNW-q9ay2VM7MunjreYiehinHen9QEoukOSLADW9gWRxQs2aSGheP98VmkXJ1EtOQDV5wiCVwzIUMw/s1600/21.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="379" data-original-width="300" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQAGh1BRWwTwjrRpsmnkE0YsAb8XZDHf0jkwl6io86cUoDZwGTSSkm9KjWC9Q1HqNW-q9ay2VM7MunjreYiehinHen9QEoukOSLADW9gWRxQs2aSGheP98VmkXJ1EtOQDV5wiCVwzIUMw/s400/21.gif" width="316" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I can add one final relationship that fits the script: My high school boyfriend was a total mensch: devoted, considerate, generous, cute, crazy about me. He assumed I'd go to university locally, we'd move in together, eventually get married. He was devastated when I left for a faraway college and broke up with him. We remain platonic friends and there is nothing he wouldn't do for me. He has carried a torch all these years. 30 years after I left, he'd take me back in a heartbeat if I'd have him and devote himself to me completely. Yet, I have never had the slightest interest in getting back together. This is "nice guys finish last" on steroids.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">But that doesn't mean I want a partner who is an arsehole, and there are plenty of valid reasons why my high school boyfriend and I would not be compatible as partners now.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">All this is to say that my bitter belief
that men are dicks may be self-reinforced by writing a profile that labels them
as such preemptively and pushes them away.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyCy62L5wu6MS8i_wRVIF1xAfnVN_0kZZ167PWLe5mvkhjq3IYeXtXSOCTTwuKklU9QmgJGR6sRuB3jMCqdRJ15jt3HlrcLuXq2N-BWu1o1mESf8CVIUlWSAWcdAryyeKijkDA1WMek9g/s1600/i-want-a-love-like-gomez-and-morticia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="735" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyCy62L5wu6MS8i_wRVIF1xAfnVN_0kZZ167PWLe5mvkhjq3IYeXtXSOCTTwuKklU9QmgJGR6sRuB3jMCqdRJ15jt3HlrcLuXq2N-BWu1o1mESf8CVIUlWSAWcdAryyeKijkDA1WMek9g/s400/i-want-a-love-like-gomez-and-morticia.jpg" width="386" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When I was a child, I loved </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">The Chronicles of Narnia</i><span style="font-family: inherit;">.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Of course I became disenchanted with the
books as soon as I was old enough to recognise the religious allegory.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I wasn't the only one—the collective
disillusionment of secular readers who had grown up hopefully feeling the back
walls of their closets became such a thing that it spawned </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Magicians-Book-Skeptics-Adventures-Narnia/dp/0316017655" style="font-family: inherit;">The
Magician's Book: A Skeptic's Adventures in Narnia</a><span style="font-family: inherit;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">One of the religious references Lewis made
in </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">The Last Battle</i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> stuck with me for
entirely secular reasons:</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">When the dead
characters are exploring the book's version of heaven—a warm, sunlit, endless,
idyllic landscape of plenty—they see a group of dwarfs huddled together, convinced
that they are in a dank, dark stable.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
sceptical dwarfs believe that the delicious food and wine are hay and
water.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Aslan explains that they are
prisoners of their own minds.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
message that Lewis was imparting was about religious faith, but the scene can
be interpreted in an entirely different fashion.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">In every area of life and human interaction,
we view the world through our own lens of expectations.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">If, like me, you don't trust anyone, you will
see all around you confirmation that people are untrustworthy, but the reverse
is also true.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">How can two people find
proof of opposing views?</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">We ignore
information, not least in politics and relationships, that contradicts our
biases and expectations.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Thus, it stands
to reason that in holding a cynical attitude about men, I attract men who
confirm that critical view.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Am I going to revise my profile to overcome
confirmation bias?</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">No.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am who I am.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">They say you catch more flies with honey than
vinegar.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">But I'm not trying to catch
flies, and flies aren't that picky:</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">They'll swarm around shit as readily as honey.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm looking for someone who prefers the tart
sharpness of the vinegar.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIaRSySVSG5wKtvxW5SNt9o5VN3wMEi88MzEID-I64Fa5uFxihH4i2ct2741vL1bWzmaaB3VD9UZbf5v6FOUfSj4Jv_BJSyIuI_czb8OCT9NJsSiHv0OkXdPQ8LtmYVIMv7Kb75T6q1Pw/s1600/6898f6ebdabcb41c0b77e545fbf62d38--adams-family-the-addams-family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="740" data-original-width="460" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIaRSySVSG5wKtvxW5SNt9o5VN3wMEi88MzEID-I64Fa5uFxihH4i2ct2741vL1bWzmaaB3VD9UZbf5v6FOUfSj4Jv_BJSyIuI_czb8OCT9NJsSiHv0OkXdPQ8LtmYVIMv7Kb75T6q1Pw/s640/6898f6ebdabcb41c0b77e545fbf62d38--adams-family-the-addams-family.jpg" width="395" /></a></div>
Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-50593214645480153242017-10-28T18:36:00.000-04:002017-10-28T21:20:54.283-04:00Samhain Musings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Nov 1 is the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oq7rvFFIpxk" target="_blank">Celtic New Year</a>. When first I heard this, I thought the middle of fall an odd time for a new beginning. But, on further reflection, it makes sense. I have never found Jan 1 a satisfactory date for new beginnings. It's officially Xmas until Jan 6, and I squeeze every last second out of the holiday season. Jan 1 is a major holiday, with the house decorated, full of treats and guests and a celebratory usual-rules-are-suspended atmosphere. Who the hell is going to get to the gym, start a diet, or begin any other ascetic project then? Most resolutions don't last beyond Jan 10. I understand eating healthier and working out after the indulgences of the holidays, but it's just too depressing in the bleak days of winter to turn a blank page in every sphere. Summer feels like a viable fresh start time to me—the light and warmth are motivating. But I have always structured my life around the academic calendar so the main time that feels like a clean slate is autumn. Sept comes at the end of summer, when you are vacationed-out and ready to get back to work. Jan 1 comes at the beginning of a miserable, dreary winter, when you need to keep your spirits up any way you can. In contrast, with autumn comes the proper readiness to turn over a new leaf, literally and figuratively.<br />
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Nov 1 is a bit late for that, pity the Celts didn't make it Sept 1. But their lives were oriented toward survival, not giving up their daily Starbucks latte or using their gym membership. Late autumn meant the end of the agricultural year: The crops had been harvested and stored, animals slaughtered or herded to winter pastures. It wasn't so much that winter was a new beginning for the Celts—it's a modern interpretation to call it their new year—as the harvest represented a significant ending, with survival ensured for another winter.<br />
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It's not perfect, being midway between Sept 1 and Jan 1, but I always use Nov 1 as a take stock time. Where are my priorities? What do I want to accomplish by calendar year's end? What part of my life hasn't yet gotten an autumn reboot?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5QU7xsaP0a6E_4cwedsxF7nU489xW2bXIt8iDOv4Bj_lLOq1i91GYF_8B1z24e7LbnOj5HJ7eVs8-LuUUsNqV5VyUay6S2ufLref5zSsin76ydcr_T5ifaYOkXKCamH4Ui5fDzSR215w/s1600/samhain-ritual-.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="424" data-original-width="600" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5QU7xsaP0a6E_4cwedsxF7nU489xW2bXIt8iDOv4Bj_lLOq1i91GYF_8B1z24e7LbnOj5HJ7eVs8-LuUUsNqV5VyUay6S2ufLref5zSsin76ydcr_T5ifaYOkXKCamH4Ui5fDzSR215w/s400/samhain-ritual-.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Home, hearth, and fire formed a focus of Samhain rituals, as did a renewing of laws and tribal relationships, and divination to predict future fortune. Superstitions called for the banishing of evil spirits, as this liminal time was thought to make passage between earth and the spirit realm easier.<br />
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There's not much for an atheist to work with there. My take: Since there are no spirits, no afterlife, and no way to divine the future, it is critical not to waste time. Life is heartbreakingly short and if your basic needs for the winter are taken care of—food, a roof over your head—then your priority should be on making the most of what little time you have. The Celts' Samhain festivals included feasts, pranks, and sex; it wasn't all slaughtering roosters and sprinkling blood on the threshold for good luck. (Note to the <a href="http://www.piranhachicken.com/2012/07/its-easier-if-one-person-holds-chicken.html" target="_blank">Piranha Chickens</a>: You don't have to worry, that's emphatically not my thing.)<br />
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Over the summer, a former work colleague died of breast cancer. She was exactly my age—our birthdays were days apart. She had everything going for her, both personally and professionally, and I was terrified by someone my age being struck down. Of course, people my age and younger die of illness, accident, or violence every minute but it affects you profoundly when it is someone you know.<br />
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When I went to my sister's wedding in July, I met my cousin's best friend. They'd grown up on the same block in London and were close friends since primary school. She and my cousin had big plans to celebrate her 50th birthday the following week. The wedding had a Steampunk theme and when I complimented her on her outfit, which included a black lace corset, she joked about how it showed her "shark bite" but she didn't care. I figured she must be joking and gave her a sceptical look. She said she'd had breast cancer 7 years prior and she called the scar her shark bite. Fast forward to a later conversation at the reception when I asked her what she did for a living. She said she had been made redundant about 6 months prior and decided to collect her pension rather than look for work. I was puzzled how she could collect a pension at 49. She replied matter-of-factly that you can do so when you have terminal cancer—hers had recently returned and spread. We've kept in touch via social media and I have been following her bucket list travels with a mixture of fear, pity, sadness, helplessness, and rage at the brutal unfairness of life.<br />
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My mother had breast cancer 14 years ago. Luckily, she hasn't had a recurrence (not that she is inclined to be tested, and I can't say as I blame her) but her friend, who has been helping her in practical matters, this summer suffered a recurrence of her own breast cancer. It has spread to her bones and she, too, is ticking off items on her bucket list.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdjGIAUtoUVF9f346ldIXBVY67XXPGdfvvw93ctQi7geDLv56vOfKAw02YSBYVAcOGov7w99Ihh5GGFD5X1suBn1uPSC4zBWsWDLc6lvXhboxeSuG5Jn4x3u2gIDfsifoPMJ_hzz7ifZg/s1600/lady+godiva.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="571" data-original-width="800" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdjGIAUtoUVF9f346ldIXBVY67XXPGdfvvw93ctQi7geDLv56vOfKAw02YSBYVAcOGov7w99Ihh5GGFD5X1suBn1uPSC4zBWsWDLc6lvXhboxeSuG5Jn4x3u2gIDfsifoPMJ_hzz7ifZg/s640/lady+godiva.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
Also through social media, I learned that a classmate of mine from college has cancer. She has posted pictures in her hairless mid-chemo state, with depressing updates on her multiple surgeries, treatments, and prognosis. She had recently lost her own mother to cancer. Another college classmate, two years older, died of breast cancer this summer as well. An acquaintance of mine from the Friesian horse world, slightly younger, died of breast cancer, and another horsey acquaintance, slightly older, was diagnosed with it. A woman at my barn also died of breast cancer. She insisted on working until she literally fell over and my trainer let her work as a favour, even though every stall she mucked had to be redone towards the end as her strength failed, because that normalcy kept her spirits up. A beautiful memorial garden was planted for her at the barn. We thought 2016 was bad (and it was) but 2017 has given it a run for its money.<br />
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Again, I know that the plural of anecdote isn't data—statistically, the fate of these women should not worry me any more than the horrors I read daily in the news—but these illnesses and deaths have touched me in a period when I was already making major changes in every area of my life, and considering priorities and plans. Do I need to move back to NYC or another major city for better work prospects? Am I going to be able to have children? Is it too late to achieve any of my life goals? I feel a desperate sense of urgency to <i>do all the things</i>; I've wasted so much time already. I've been a lifelong procrastinator, both personally and professionally. I've always put everything off, figured there was always tomorrow, always next year. Anaïs Nin said, "Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage." I figured mine would kick in someday.<br />
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But the new wrinkles that appear on my skin daily, the new aches after a hard workout, the new age-related job rejections, all remind me that <i>tempus fugit</i>. Some of my college classmates started an online menopause support group. Um, what? I haven't yet hit the milestones of marrying, buying a house, starting a family, embarking on a career ladder, and my contemporaries are happily chatting about how to embrace "the change" and posting pictures of themselves visiting their children at parents' weekend at our alma mater. There was this boat, see, and I missed it. What was I doing 18 years ago when they were having kids? I was living in Europe, pursuing education as an end in itself. I'm happy with some of my life choices but most of them have been made through procrastination and a misguided sense that I had endless time and could put off seeing friends, practicing music, writing stories, not to mention earning a proper living, until some vague future reckoning when I'd magically overcome my pathological procrastination without effort. I saw a fat girl at the gym the other day wearing the trite t-shirt slogan: "Be stronger than your excuses." It's a testament to my current mental state that instead of rolling my eyes at its hackneyed sentiment, it resonated.<br />
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I can't keep "someday-ing" every facet of my life. Someday I'll have children. Well, I'm 48 ½ today. Someday I'll have a farm. Well, I have two deeply beloved horses, that it's gut-wrenchingly painful that I never see, whom kind people have been generously keeping for me for years, waiting patiently for me to get my shit together and get that farm, on which I also want sheep and reindeer, and to be able to have a dog again. Someday I'll sing at the Met. Well, I am beyond the age when voices start to deteriorate and you're considered washed up in the opera world. Every competition and program has a cut-off age of 30. Someday I'll have great sex every day. Well, I've reached the outer limits of fuckability agewise. Someday I'll finish my PhD, get a book contract, write a piece for The Atlantic, visit the Wizarding World of Harry Potter….you get the idea. All has to be acted on now because <a href="http://www.piranhachicken.com/2012/07/its-easier-if-one-person-holds-chicken.html" target="_blank">we're not promised tomorrow</a>. Time to banish those demons (Maybe burn a little rosemary? Or was it oregano? Damn, I forget. How about I just simmer some mulled wine on the stove instead?) and accomplish something.<br />
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So, that's my mid-autumn check-in. Happy Halloween. <i>Carpe diem</i>.<br />
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<br />Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-75091688822930725232017-10-23T01:22:00.000-04:002019-05-10T20:00:38.567-04:00I'm Baaahk from NY Sheep & Wool<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHJdlm0lX-1g4LSbLtiJqnMMHQY5O-P9vYWmY68JT65WfwylA63uDmmy9z0kHtm0uiNuD765PfaAoSpzuH7bl4XbQXZlvwolJAo8m_LMlz3_5KiOWZ1KZUIsFy0uKs-Y6CxFtVc8AEXyM/s1600/Jacobsheep.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHJdlm0lX-1g4LSbLtiJqnMMHQY5O-P9vYWmY68JT65WfwylA63uDmmy9z0kHtm0uiNuD765PfaAoSpzuH7bl4XbQXZlvwolJAo8m_LMlz3_5KiOWZ1KZUIsFy0uKs-Y6CxFtVc8AEXyM/s400/Jacobsheep.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spotted Jacob sheep, a rare breed.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
NY Sheep & Wool is like Xmas: I look forward to it all year, and when it's
over, it's such a let-down that I start looking forward to next year to cheer
myself up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Last year I <a href="http://www.piranhachicken.com/2016/10/so-much-yarn-so-little-time-rhinebeck.html">wrote
a blog post about it</a>, which you should re-read because you have forgotten
it by now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">A few points to stick in for this year:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">1) </span>The Taconic State Parkway is lovely & scenic & also the deer
capitol of the known universe. Not just the odd deer grazing by the side
of the road at dusk, right as I am driving home, but dozens. Each year I
worry that this is going to be the year one of them leaps in front of my car.
But this year there were none. I didn't see a single deer, alive or
dead (there are usually several of the latter). It was weird. I had
been wishing NY would reintroduce wolves. Perhaps they did.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">2) </span>There are parking areas along the Taconic to facilitate admiring the
majestic views of the Hudson River Valley. Except that when I see signs
for "parking area" I think of a place to make out. Someday I hope to be able to drag a long-suffering boyfriend to NYS&W just for this
purpose. The snogging will make up for
him having to look at fibre animals and yarn and eat fair food all day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3) It's a tradition to
knit a so-called "Rhinebeck sweater" to show off, or at
least a Rhinebeck hat, scarf, shawl or similar item of outerwear. People oooh and aaah all day, complimenting
strangers on their skill. I tapped one
woman on the shoulder and gushed over her intricate cable scarf. She told me the pattern name and it went
straight into my <a href="http://www.ravelry.com/">Ravelry</a> queue. (For my non-knitting readers, Ravelry is a
website that provides a database for you to input all of your yarn, needles,
books, etc., and create a queue of patterns you want to knit. There are also discussion groups, and online
project 'notebooks' where you can add photographs, details of what yarn and
needle sizes you used, and notes on projects.
These notes help other knitters who knit that same pattern in future,
both as inspiration and to point out difficulties, customization, errors in the
pattern, etc. Basically, the people who
invented Ravelry are gods in the knitting world. They deserve to be canonized whilst they are
still living. It is the best website on
the Internet, and I am including every porn site in that assessment.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyway, back to the
Rhinebeck sweater: It has been a record
warm October and it was 78F on Saturday.
Some people just sweated it out in their woolens, determined to show off
their hard work, others said fuck it and stripped down to t-shirts and tank
tops, an odd sight amongst the fall foliage.
The vendors selling hot cocoa and cider must have cursed the
weather. Me, I enjoyed not freezing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
4) Speaking of
vendors, I decided not to waste an hour of precious yarn fondling time in line
waiting for a lamb sandwich at lunchtime.
I held off until 4pm, by which time there was no line. It was worth delaying lunch, despite the fact
that the vendor, keenly aware of both its popularity and monopoly, had
increased the price from $10 to $12 this year.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
5) Each year I allow
myself to purchase a few unique skeins, yarn I would not be able to find again
if I did not buy it then, and take photos/notes on the rest. I fantasy shop, looking with envy at everyone with their bulging bags (there are people who save up all year for a
yarn buying orgy at Rhinebeck), each time thinking <i>next year</i> I will have money to buy whatever I want, even
a custom-made spinning wheel and some Gotland sheep. <u>And next year comes and I still don't have
any money. It's depressing and this year
I really should have bought nothing.</u>
As restrained as I was, it was still extravagant to even spend the gas
money and admission price. I felt guilty
buying anything at all, as well I should.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7mAJEeGP59C8AuLJCEJ8TiUUpducP-TwjnbypkJ-W6kFjyj6Oo__ZziRLnFouc9MoY8W4epgjGygR6Bm-Ak_DVZ2L0BqoJBwZujCmiOsNeCPqOSp-QRjEKXq4aC5ufSN6kazaNHUhcc/s1600/IMG_6192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7mAJEeGP59C8AuLJCEJ8TiUUpducP-TwjnbypkJ-W6kFjyj6Oo__ZziRLnFouc9MoY8W4epgjGygR6Bm-Ak_DVZ2L0BqoJBwZujCmiOsNeCPqOSp-QRjEKXq4aC5ufSN6kazaNHUhcc/s400/IMG_6192.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This year's tiny but pricey Rhinebeck haul. Yes, those are hand-dyed gradients.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One thing I said no to
was the world's sexiest sweater. I would have
bought just the pattern, saving it until I could afford the yarn at some point in
the future, but the vendor, rather unusually, was not selling the pattern
separately. You had to buy enough of
their yarn to make the garment and the pattern came with it. In this case, it would have taken 5 skeins at
$30 apiece to make the sweater, so of course it wasn't an option for me. But just look at this cardigan, one of the
most flattering I have ever seen.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip_q5ZwdpHcy4p9XfZACwyCHAIkcR_PY4UA0tvuMBcI2GAP2dHmU1CSpeFgZYFAPgWLFSbqWjXeNQfMnq1Ie8dYgGFiPMku9NipCcaTPfz1KfMKG3jxgpp_t_UtEO0Cg1TPShCycowsF4/s1600/IMG_6188.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip_q5ZwdpHcy4p9XfZACwyCHAIkcR_PY4UA0tvuMBcI2GAP2dHmU1CSpeFgZYFAPgWLFSbqWjXeNQfMnq1Ie8dYgGFiPMku9NipCcaTPfz1KfMKG3jxgpp_t_UtEO0Cg1TPShCycowsF4/s400/IMG_6188.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For my non-knitting
readers, let me introduce you to the concept of "negative ease." A garment that is tight and shows off your
figure is said to have negative ease; conversely, a loose garment has positive
ease. Whether and how much of negative
or positive ease you want is a matter of personal style and preference. As someone with a pear-shaped figure, I need
my clothes to fit like a second skin in order not to look like a
hippopotamus. In other words, <i>beaucoup</i> negative ease, like you see here.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdKM0VpUsXzFlWeaMxDpCSJs0mZTa14kO-qZn-KwC7BLCEd-Ditf-X5QYGgTuPrZ2iVi2Wz1J031duCbnviCgkvL7VAzbqPLo4L4ao53yZ_Qh442wPMR2hHR6KsqDP7hAWVAPDU3s9cEk/s1600/IMG_6191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdKM0VpUsXzFlWeaMxDpCSJs0mZTa14kO-qZn-KwC7BLCEd-Ditf-X5QYGgTuPrZ2iVi2Wz1J031duCbnviCgkvL7VAzbqPLo4L4ao53yZ_Qh442wPMR2hHR6KsqDP7hAWVAPDU3s9cEk/s400/IMG_6191.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pumpkins are just for decoration; I grew them in my backyard.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">6) The Vetricyn was a gift-with-purchase of the chicken book. Wait, chickens at
Rhinebeck? Is someone making yarn out of
chicken feathers? No, poultry are not fibre
animals but the book sellers often include some non-knitting books and this
author had written the best guide to keeping chickens I have ever seen. Due to the rising popularity of chicken husbandry, zillions of poorly-written how-to books have flooded the
market but this author knows her shit. My
hairdresser recently bought a house and is planning to get chickens. She has been asking me zillions of questions
so I got this for her Xmas present. It's
perfect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">The wine?
There is an entire building of local food vendors, including the NY
wineries. This had the virtues of being both cheap and the most
unusual wine I have ever had, to be saved for a special occasion. The jams include blood orange (2), cranberry,
and raspberry bourbon, and the peanut butter has dark chocolate in it. Each year, I stock up on three tubs of the Gobs of
Garlic spice mix, which is the 'secret' ingredient in just about everything I cook. (Shhhhhh.)</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-32539335561859092722017-10-16T14:24:00.000-04:002017-10-17T14:39:47.244-04:00P.S. #NotMe?<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A quick addendum to my previous post:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In the wake of the Weinstein revelations,
there is a viral trend on Facebook to call attention to the ubiquity of sexual
harassment by asking women to post "Me too" as their status if they
have ever been a victim of sexual harassment and/or assault.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since literally every woman on the planet has
been sexually harassed at some point in her life, the response rate if every
woman on Facebook participated would be 100%.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In fact, there was previously a #YesAllWomen tag on Twitter to highlight
that fact.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I had mixed feelings about this request.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am not a joiner by nature; if everyone is
asked to post something, even if it is something I agree with, my instinct
is not to follow the crowd.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's like in
yoga class when the teacher asks us all to breathe or do an asana in sync with
everyone else in the room.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I always
follow an irresistible urge to break the rhythm, do my own thing. I am both a feminist and a knitter but I didn't knit a single pussy hat last January. I am quite proud of this trait—you wouldn't
catch me participating in a wave in a stadium or holding up a lighter and
swaying to the music with the crowd at a concert—so there is no chance I'd play
along with a Facebook request.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I also felt I had never been sexually
harassed seriously enough to merit saying "me too".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I've been catcalled on the street and online
but I have never been personally harassed or assaulted in a work or dating
situation, or any other context.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The random
catcalls that all women experience just form part of the backdrop of being a
woman in public; they're not in the same league of awfulness as, say, the
childhood neighbour who was raped by her father when she was 12.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I fear my "me too" would minimize
hers by seeming to equate our experiences.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There is also a form of survivor's
guilt:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All these other women have been
harassed and assaulted, why not me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
is never the victim's fault—not at all, not even a little bit, not in ANY
circumstances—so there is no possibility of rationalizing that I avoided it
because I didn't engage in any particular behaviours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The explanation that whispers in my head is
that I simply wasn't attractive enough.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Both of those thoughts—that my harassment
wasn't serious enough and that I wasn't attractive enough to be a target—are
appalling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Y</span>es, it's
objectively true that rape is way worse than a catcall, just as lynching is
way worse than using a racial epithet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But both are forms of sexism or racism and neither is acceptable in a
civilised society.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I certainly don't
think any woman should judge her own attractiveness on the basis of whether she
has been sexually harassed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fact that either of those ideas crossed
my mind is indicative of how persistently patriarchal our culture is.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Finally, I was uncomfortable with the idea
of the onus being on the victim, and it seems that I wasn't the only one as
these two responses popped up:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: inherit;">"'If all the women
who have been sexually harassed or assaulted wrote 'Me too' as a status, we
might give people a sense of the magnitude of the problem.'<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: inherit;">Let me translate that.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: inherit;">"If the victims
would just all get it together to say something all at the same time, maybe
then somebody will listen."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: inherit;">If the victims would<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: inherit;">It's on the victims<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: inherit;">It's on (statistically)
women. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: inherit;">SUGGESTION FOR
REPLACED LANGUAGE: 'If all the men who have sexually assaulted, harassed,
or coerced women into sex, allowed it to happen without doing anything about
it, or ever gaslighted a woman about it, wrote 'Me too' as a status, we might
give people a sense of the magnitude of the problem.' There. I fucking
fixed it."</span></span><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-53877143623807902542017-10-15T23:42:00.001-04:002017-10-18T22:46:08.817-04:00Not a Good Week for Women<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202328; font-family: "times"; font-size: 17pt;">Oh, it's
great that Jabba the Hut in a bathrobe is finally being held accountable for
30+ years of sexual assault and harassment.</span><span style="color: #202328; font-family: "times"; font-size: 17pt;">
</span><span style="color: #202328; font-family: "times"; font-size: 17pt;">But the unfolding story is like Weinstein's expanse of back hair:</span><span style="color: #202328; font-family: "times"; font-size: 17pt;"> </span><span style="color: #202328; font-family: "times"; font-size: 17pt;">It just goes on and on and you don't want to contemplate
its existence, let alone look at it.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17pt;">(Incidentally,
Weinstein's behaviour would have been reprehensible whatever he looked like but
his hideousness and smarminess are so extreme that if this were fiction and
central casting had sent an actor who looked like that to play the role he
would have been rejected as a caricature.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">Weinstein
harassed, threatened, groped, and assaulted women in many different places and
contexts but his favourite method seems to have been to invite actresses to a
hotel room to (supposedly) review a script and discuss a part for her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He'd then request some sexual favour as a
condition of getting the part.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His
accusers have said he demanded everything from massages to threesomes but my
personal favourite was this one:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;"><a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-4981048/Academy-revokes-disgraced-Harvey-Weinstein-s-membership.html">"He
allegedly emerged in a bathrobe and told her he would green light her script if
she watched him masturbate. She left the meeting."</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">He is
definitely not alone amongst members of his sex in wanting<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>hot young women to watch him flog the bishop, but
definitely alone in thinking they would actually enjoy it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dozens of women (by the time you read this,
there will probably be a few dozen more) have said that when they turned him
down, their careers suffered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Unfortunately, this means that we now look at the young women in his
films with an automatic question in our minds about whether they gave in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even more disturbing are the rape allegations, and those victims are also coming out of the woodwork by the dozen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's easier for the ones who got away to
admit they were propositioned than for the ones who either acquiesced or were
raped to speak up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">What they all
have in common this week is an unjustified backlash for not speaking up sooner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The general outcry is that if someone had
said something years ago, he could have been stopped before he harmed more
women.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I even had to school one shithead who was calling for women who hadn’t spoken up to be prosecuted as accessories
for his subsequent crimes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sexual
harassment and assault victims who don't report the crime are sometimes wracked
by guilt that the perpetrator will go on to hurt others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the cost to victims of speaking up is
almost always higher than to perps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Less
than 12% of reported rapes result in any kind of conviction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of Weinstein's victims did go to the
police, who did nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Others were
paid off for their silence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No-one in
Hollywood was surprised, both because actresses had warned others and because
the environment of male entitlement to, and objectification of, women is ubiquitous,
both inside and outside of the movie industry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The casting couch isn't a myth; it's a cliché.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">The Weinstein
scandal coincided with my efforts to help a friend who finally left her abusive
husband, got a no contact order, and is attempting to start divorce
proceedings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But she has been unable to
get an attorney because she was a SAHM for 18 years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was the breadwinner; he controls the
money, and he has withdrawn all the money from their joint bank account.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She has called literally every divorce attorney in her (red) state,
along with the bar association, legal aid, charities for domestic abuse
survivors, etc., but there are no pro bono legal services for divorce in her
area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's infuriating. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did some research on her behalf and found
precedent for petitioning the court to order the breadwinning spouse to pay for
the homemaking spouse's costs in a divorce to make it a fair fight but
when she ran that by some lawyers they scoffed that it wouldn't fly in
2017.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, she is screwed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRSwadn_cGCVRqVsvw4Oykvl0SOdbsY2T8-nezJt1Y9PKZj1Zzu6U3w5y0tgzxHoEvWYuRooJrB7FHIts8ZBsDg5cUOQ496wmAmws7w1IWOicOtr0CsUvzX_PNj6PF3TdsS-tRWLIoirs/s1600/romance-dating-online_dating-liar-lying-blind_dates-online-29600414_low.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="332" data-original-width="400" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRSwadn_cGCVRqVsvw4Oykvl0SOdbsY2T8-nezJt1Y9PKZj1Zzu6U3w5y0tgzxHoEvWYuRooJrB7FHIts8ZBsDg5cUOQ496wmAmws7w1IWOicOtr0CsUvzX_PNj6PF3TdsS-tRWLIoirs/s320/romance-dating-online_dating-liar-lying-blind_dates-online-29600414_low.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">Add to that
Trump gutting contraceptive coverage, yet another anti-choice Congressman
urging his mistress to get an abortion, and the fact that <a href="http://lithub.com/things-that-are-hillary-clintons-fault-starting-with-harvey-weinstein/">all
of it is Hillary Clinton's fault</a> ("Hog Emperor of Rape Culture"
is my new favourite name for Trump), I was in no mood to deal generously with
the inane diarrhea of messages from the online dating site I have been using.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">I get around
10 messages/day and most fall into one of the following categories:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">1) Men who
send a generic impersonal message that they clearly send to everyone that gushes
“I love your profile" or "we have a lot in common" yet when I
check their profile, we’re 100% enemies. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the biggest category.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems to be common practice for men to
send messages based on photos without reading profiles. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wow, so, you’re a smoker who voted for Trump,
doesn’t want kids, and is just looking for hook-ups. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Under favourite book you state that you don’t
read and you think the country’s biggest problem is that “libtards" are
trying to take your guns. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is it
exactly that we have in common? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Breathing
oxygen?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">2) Xtians
telling me that I am going to hell for being an atheist and/or supporting
abortion & evolution. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They usually
have Bible quotes in their profiles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">3) Men who
message me again after I don’t reply to their first message to tell me I must
be some kind of stuck-up bitch. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s
so endearing! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gosh, I really missed a
good one by not responding. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My loss!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">4) Married
men who are looking for some on the side. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(These constituted the majority of responses I
got at first but they have tapered off since the site started filtering them.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">5) Men who
are only looking for hook-ups.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">6) Men who
don’t want kids. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>100% of the men who
have messaged me so far don’t want kids. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the very top of my profile it states that
the ONLY reason I am on there is because I want biological children before I am
too old.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">7) Men who
state in creepy, disgusting, or threatening terms what they want to do to me
sexually. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I include in this category all
the men whose messages aren’t explicitly sexual but ask bluntly where I live,
if I am alone, what my phone number is, or ask me to send nude photos.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">8) Men who
are so illiterate or drugged out I can barely decipher their message.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">9) Men who
message just to tell me why they aren’t interested in me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I find this category particularly hard to
fathom as I have never felt a compulsion to message someone who doesn’t appeal
just to tell them why.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(It has been
suggested that men do this to women they feel are out of their league, but
that's cold comfort for enduring the insults.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiLnwd_zzq_0Ld6A9OrnGtRc7jQQ6KpOTsgM2rDM8UjXmxdUcyzONWbEAMEPGiR8x6krm2GrAPBT7uQPLH-gsfwYxEzfIjSeagVYGG0B240OA7w-umBdyrhjaejp_uRy64iJdquJFrvDQ/s1600/0628c8167dd984d4e18911adb4271625.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="766" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiLnwd_zzq_0Ld6A9OrnGtRc7jQQ6KpOTsgM2rDM8UjXmxdUcyzONWbEAMEPGiR8x6krm2GrAPBT7uQPLH-gsfwYxEzfIjSeagVYGG0B240OA7w-umBdyrhjaejp_uRy64iJdquJFrvDQ/s320/0628c8167dd984d4e18911adb4271625.jpg" width="292" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">10) Men who
think I should feel blessed by their attention. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They usually say something to the effect that
at 48 I must be thrilled to get any response. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They seem to assume they are the only one
messaging me and expect me to fuck them in gratitude. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This category overlaps with one for men who
tell me that I will never find what I am looking for so I should instead take
what they are offering. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The married men and
the men looking for hook-ups say that as a follow-up. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I say, “not interested, looking for a relationship”
they respond that, at 48, I should be grateful anyone wants to fuck me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They disguise it as a compliment, “Wow, are
you really 48? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You look amazing! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe we could hook up?” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their profile will list an age range of
something like 20-35. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They don’t want to
date me but deem me still attractive enough for a hook-up. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t resist mentioning that these guys are
usually ugly. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I get married Danny DeVito
lookalikes who somehow imagine that I'd be eager to be a piece on the side for
them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hubris that enables them to
believe that any woman would want to fuck them must be staggering. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is it the same mentality that leads repulsive
monsters like Weinstein and Trump to believe that there is any woman on earth
who wouldn’t be nauseated at the very idea of them?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">11) Men who
are looking for a rich woman to support them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, this happens a lot; it’s not all the
other way around.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">12) Men who
friend-zone me because of my age, usually apologising that they are looking to
date someone younger but that we both like horses or opera or Byatt or whatever
so perhaps we can be friends. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am happy
to make new friends but could do without the preemptive age-related rejection
leading into it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">13) Subs who
want me to tie them up and humiliate them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This dating site isn’t FetLife and I am not a
pro domme, although it might be more lucrative than adjuncting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">14) The
outliers: I’ve gotten the odd message from couples looking for a threesome, men
in open relationships, and men who live abroad but travel to the U.S. on
business looking for stateside pussy, etc. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What all the outliers have in common with the
other categories is that they haven’t read my profile. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have filled out every section, ticked every
box that specifies <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">serious, long-term
relationship</i> only. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Almost no-one who
messages me is looking for that. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of
those that are, they have huge deal breakers:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>they don’t want children, they’re Republicans, they smoke, etc. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am overwhelmed with messages and I answer
less than one out of 50.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">Why don’t I
just message men instead? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because there
aren’t any men whose age range goes up to 48. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>60-year-olds list 25-45. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only guys who have an open-ended age range
are just looking for hook-ups. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
serious blokes are looking for someone younger even if they are my father’s
age. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, yeah, I can’t blame them;
it’s a biological imperative. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that
doesn’t mean it can’t piss me off and frustrate me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">Another thing
that pissed me off this week: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The site
has a rule that all photos must include your face. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No body-only shots, no pets, no inanimate
objects, etc. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most guys have multiple
photos that violate this rule—their dog, a sunset, their six-pack, etc. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have 7 clear face shots, more than most
people, and I added in a photo of some ice cream, just for fun, with the joking
caption that you have to compete with this. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, someone reported it and they removed it.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>WTF kind of petty bullshit is that? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why did this bother someone enough to report
it? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could report pretty much every
guy’s profile for photo violations in retaliation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: inherit; font-size: 17.0pt;">Most of the
messages I get are so daft or disgusting or show the asshole didn’t so much as
glance at my profile, that I am getting both fed up and creeped out. I am there
for ONE purpose only: To have children. I am not interested in hooking up. I am
not interested in dating. I am not interested in a relationship. (Am I not ever
horny? Yes, unbearably so, constantly, but getting laid is not worth living
with some narcissistic jackass.) Above all, I am no longer interested in them. They
are a means to an end, nothing more–just as they are not interested in me as a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">person</i> based on my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">profile</i> but only as an <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">object</i>
based on my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">photo</i>. Turnabout is fair
play, dickheads. I can’t afford a sperm donor nor can I afford to go abroad for
IVF (no U.S. IVF clinic will take someone at 48 who refuses to use donor eggs
because no-one has ever yet conceived via IVF with their own eggs at 48. The
Guinness World Record is 46.) so I am looking for someone with the money to
drop on IVF who wants kids right away. That’s it! I think the rest are all
scary, egotistical douchebags & women should run a mile from them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202328; font-family: "times"; font-size: 17.0pt;">Now, is this bitter misandrist
screed (which I appended to my profile and will probably delete in a week or
two) going to reduce the number of messages I get? No, because no-one reads my
profile.</span><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuSDLCMjH0ASYL5mlz4kT6HtAV6LrlpDPORuJ0eXpifmU8b4nHavzamUZsT960LlrVmDSfN8e8jPqcJGsLhBCxhiCcenhKLkYKjrMsxThFj9-6ECE2SKnQ99FdF78p4FmCRe1QqOIES8g/s1600/romance-dating-online_dating-internet_dating-match_maker-social_network-e_date-67330282_low.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuSDLCMjH0ASYL5mlz4kT6HtAV6LrlpDPORuJ0eXpifmU8b4nHavzamUZsT960LlrVmDSfN8e8jPqcJGsLhBCxhiCcenhKLkYKjrMsxThFj9-6ECE2SKnQ99FdF78p4FmCRe1QqOIES8g/s320/romance-dating-online_dating-internet_dating-match_maker-social_network-e_date-67330282_low.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #202328; font-family: "times"; font-size: 17.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-45040820379862131232017-10-11T02:00:00.000-04:002017-10-12T11:15:28.439-04:00Funereal Thoughts<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">City Boy's father died last night, the day
after his 71<sup>st</sup> birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm
finding the situation weird because, even though City Boy and I never married,
he was essentially my father-in-law for 13 years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I've spent the last few days, since I learned
he was on his death bed, reminiscing and sorting out my feelings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">City Boy and I split up over two years ago
and I've had little contact with his family since.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I emailed his father twice about money that
City Boy owes me, in the faint hope that he might be able to put some pressure
on him to pay up, and perhaps give him the money to do so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He never replied, which angered me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's a legitimate debt, which I can back up
with records and receipts, so it's an issue of personal integrity and I hoped futilely
that his father would urge him and help him to do the right thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I have some unresolvable anger at his
father for not backing me up there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Also on the negative side, many of City
Boy's flaws can be traced to his father. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's true for everyone so we often blame our
parents for our shortcomings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
comes a point when we must take responsibility for ourselves and stop blaming
them but that doesn't mean that other people can't look at us, look at our
families, and make connections.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I've
felt some frustration on that score when I observed his father modelling some
of his worst characteristics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Likewise,
those flaws sometimes made it embarrassing and stressful to deal with his father in public.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't want to say anything too identifying
on my anonymous blog but he was a Jewish lawyer from Brooklyn, and the
embodiment of certain boorish stereotypes that, in environments such as
restaurants, were cringe-inducing for this uptight WASP. E.g.: In a vegan restaurant, he kept saying to the waitress, "Honey, could you go next door and get me some butter?" & repeated this routine about cream for his coffee, eggs, etc.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">But he was also kind and generous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He loved his family unconditionally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He taught school before he became a lawyer, worked
for the city until corruption drove him to leave, and he never got rich because
he stayed in his working class neighbourhood, even as the demographics changed
radically from Jewish to Asian and Latino immigrants, to serve local clients who needed him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was highly regarded by everyone that knew
him for his warmth, cheerfulness, generosity, humour, and positivity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He accepted me into the family even though I
am not Jewish, and joked about our pets being his "granddog" and
"grandchickens".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He took City
Boy and me to Pavarotti's last ever performance at the Met.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One Thanksgiving, he overheard me say I had
never gone to see the Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall and he immediately got
us tickets to the Xmas Spectacular.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
would make the long drive up to see us just for one night when he had a busy
work schedule, take us out for dinner and brunch the next morning, and secretly
buy us a gift certificate for more meals at the restaurant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a kid at heart, sometimes giving us
toys for Xmas—I remember getting a Mr. Potato Head one year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once when we were showing him around the area on a
beautiful fall day we stopped for ice
cream and later passed another ice cream place where, knowing ice cream is my
favourite food, he insisted we stop for a second helping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He couldn't eat ice cream, so this was all
for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He simply enjoyed being generous
to his family; it gave him pleasure and satisfaction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I've been reminiscing about him today, and more
generally about City Boy's father's side of the family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>City Boy's aunt, his father's beloved sister,
died of breast cancer on City Boy's 16<sup>th</sup> birthday (awkward timing).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His cousin, son of his father's brother, died
last year of a drug overdose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His father
talked frequently about losing his own parents, and about the deaths of his own
aunts, cousins, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was always conscious
that time was limited and he strove to make the most of it, traveling
frequently to see relatives around the country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He came to visit us when City Boy had a Fulbright in Paris, renting a
car and driving us to amazing historic attractions all over northwest France.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since he ended up dying so young, he was
right to make every moment count.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">When I heard he was in hospice, I toyed
with the idea of asking City Boy's stepmother if he'd like me to visit, but by
then it was too late, he was no longer responsive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will send a condolence card to his uncle
(as I did when his cousin died) and to his stepmother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I considered going to the funeral but I don't
want to create any unnecessary drama.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
may make a shiva call, if it seems appropriate. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could bake something and bring it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I keep making mental lists of the many
practical things to be done now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His
father's law office will need to be closed up and cleared out, his car
sold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of this can be done by his
uncle and stepmother but City Boy should take some responsibility.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is now stuck down in NYC for all of the Jewish
mourning rituals and he may not have brought enough clothes when he rushed down
to his father's bedside in hospice—wait, what?!?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why do I give a shit?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>None of this is my problem anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These people aren’t my family and they
certainly don't give a shit about me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>City Boy has said and done such reprehensible things that he doesn't
deserve a shred of consideration or help from me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is not a good person and the death of his father
doesn't negate that.</span><br />
<br />
So, why does my mind even go there?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think I have figured it out: It has nothing
to do with City Boy or his family per se.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It's just the natural human resistance to feeling peripheral in a
familiar setting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's not rational; one
of my greatest joys in not being stuck in a miserable relationship with City
Boy was no longer having to deal with his family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the years before we split up, when the
relationship was long dead, I stopped attending family events.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was thrilled that I would never have to see
them again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't want to see them
again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I felt a part of something
when I was in the family, as I had when I was with Country Boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you end a relationship, for better and
worse, you lose the entire family, and the sense of being an insider.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>City Boy and I were together for 13 years so
I got to know his family well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He'll be
at the funeral with some random current girlfriend who won't know anyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no sexual or romantic interest in him
(on the contrary, I don't respect him and thus find him repulsive), but I have
this residual sense of belonging, like I would know exactly what to say and how to handle each relative and situation,
what disputes to stay out of, how to counteract City Boy's immaturity and myopic selfishness and prod him
into acting dignified (I might have failed at that), what to say to his
stepmother to mitigate whatever he said that was tone deaf and insulting,
etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would not be a situation I'd
relish, but it's one I could stage manage from years of experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It feels odd not to be part of it, although I
am resoundingly glad not to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't
want to be involved with him or his family, it just feels weird when something
like this happens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm sure it will fade
with time.</div>
Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-87484898696273038142017-09-24T17:04:00.002-04:002017-09-24T17:57:08.350-04:00Defending Gravity<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8wGAZGS6oTTkqSbuaopP_GPiyaKLTINTxcPU8wBRsEuae0Wxh_EqhYbnGoSvg7tM2KVC-0YzjAGHnZ2Rv4SP4Rbtk3LKI7v-9Z4P4_jCmCwlh1osim4-q4pegoE5ONDk6parLBUwyXro/s1600/24-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="293" data-original-width="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8wGAZGS6oTTkqSbuaopP_GPiyaKLTINTxcPU8wBRsEuae0Wxh_EqhYbnGoSvg7tM2KVC-0YzjAGHnZ2Rv4SP4Rbtk3LKI7v-9Z4P4_jCmCwlh1osim4-q4pegoE5ONDk6parLBUwyXro/s1600/24-1.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLIGyQctaZ3PRlCn3BasEbHIXNYMUcyzchkClZpd4-uurrc6gguJeztZuv5g06E216bFNMGezN3fLibbrEqtpt0aWZHwssCuN8e4YxKPlEQ-JRaBwh75YI-5XLo1L86C90ww0IWwztuWo/s1600/24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="833" data-original-width="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLIGyQctaZ3PRlCn3BasEbHIXNYMUcyzchkClZpd4-uurrc6gguJeztZuv5g06E216bFNMGezN3fLibbrEqtpt0aWZHwssCuN8e4YxKPlEQ-JRaBwh75YI-5XLo1L86C90ww0IWwztuWo/s1600/24.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Young women are rejecting the term
"feminist".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I hear a
woman state that she is not a feminist, I grill her on her views.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">"So, you don't think women should
vote?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You don't think we should be
allowed to drive?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Be educated?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Own property?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Leave the house without a man's permission?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">They are invariably shocked and stammer
that they believe in complete equality of the sexes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">"Ah," I reply, "you are a
feminist."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">At which point they protest that they don't
hate men and they don't believe women are superior.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is what they believe the definition of
"feminism" is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/04/16/feminism-poll_n_3094917.html">According
to one survey</a>, only 23% of Americans identify as "feminists" but
82% agree with the statement that </span><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“men
and women should be social, political, and economic equals.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="https://www.prri.org/spotlight/less-than-half-of-millennial-women-identify-as-feminist/">In
a survey of millennials</a>, only 35% identify as "feminists" but a
majority agree that discrimination against women is still a problem.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It seems we have a
semantic snag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/feminism">According to the
OED</a>, the definition of feminism is, "The advocacy of women's rights on
the ground of the equality of the sexes."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not, please note, "the advocacy of women's superiority on the basis
of misandry."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">So, help me out here,
people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm having a Rip Van Winkle
moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When and why did the definition
of feminism morph in the popular view from equality to misandry?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I can take a
guess:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's the same problem as
Charlottesville.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The civil rights
movement changed the laws of the land and forbid legal discrimination on the
basis of race and sex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it didn't
change people's attitudes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It affected
how they could behave, what they could say in polite company, but not their
mindset.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The disgusting racist displays
we have been seeing since Trump's ascendance to the presidency indicate that
racist attitudes have not died out; they were just hidden underground (another
reason to protect free speech, but that's a rant for another day).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In a related fashion,
men have increasingly been called out on sexist behaviour so some of them have
learned to put on a veneer of civility to women in the workplace to avoid
getting fired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it hasn't changed
their attitudes, just their surface behaviour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Their resentment at having to treat women like equals has manifested in
a victim mentality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They used to be in
charge and having to share power with women (and minorities if they are white) feels like a defeat,
a blow to their egos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, they
retaliated by labeling feminists as man-haters, claiming we want special rights
rather than equal rights.</span><br />
<br />
Gays have also been accused of requesting special rights when seeking equality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When same sex marriage was being debated, it
was common to hear opponents blathering that gays were asking for special
rights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That twist was a way of
delegitimizing a bid for equality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's
the same with feminism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By claiming that
women who seek equal rights with men are man-haters who think we are superior
to men, they delegitimize the term.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Don't buy into it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Call yourself
a feminist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Reclaim the word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Defend gravity.</div>
Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-55134187715587520712017-09-15T18:00:00.000-04:002017-09-15T18:00:51.858-04:00The Big E, RevisitedToday was opening day for the Big E. Best day to go as it is the least crowded & admission is discounted, although traffic is still from hell.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.piranhachicken.com/2016/09/fried-dough-or-funnel-cake-highly.html" target="_blank">My post last year about the Big E</a> is my favourite ever post for this blog. If you haven't read it yet, read it. If you have, read it again.<br />
<br />
I don't have much to add to that thorough guide except I am sorry to report that the singing animatronic dairy products are still there, ready to inhabit your worst nightmares.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmf6_mQy3D1rl5IZSF2LP_S9v37-ZE9MRnnw8VV-ivdSoLzhD368T8ckZ7BTHhQ8X1Ot0YTcqwOwz1YulWz4RsLs1E8pIc2mI9frculIawRXn3fKUvw66AnvIFyEzUGPeJaP2b7tkvYPk/s1600/IMG_6084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmf6_mQy3D1rl5IZSF2LP_S9v37-ZE9MRnnw8VV-ivdSoLzhD368T8ckZ7BTHhQ8X1Ot0YTcqwOwz1YulWz4RsLs1E8pIc2mI9frculIawRXn3fKUvw66AnvIFyEzUGPeJaP2b7tkvYPk/s400/IMG_6084.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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On a much better note, the pumpkin pie & graham central station ice creams are also still available, with hot fudge, in the Connecticut building.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaLTqphdrexlstvN5dPRI2pqgD3HOy9ADWFhcA5fDucJPPsgZWm6yI_pbLaKwh-m0mtW-WhXJ3UOAD4krI_wLkj2im1V_eOpJS2hivA23tSBFBmvmhI7vdna38GwA9f4KoHjlNIzzauJk/s1600/IMG_6079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="360" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaLTqphdrexlstvN5dPRI2pqgD3HOy9ADWFhcA5fDucJPPsgZWm6yI_pbLaKwh-m0mtW-WhXJ3UOAD4krI_wLkj2im1V_eOpJS2hivA23tSBFBmvmhI7vdna38GwA9f4KoHjlNIzzauJk/s400/IMG_6079.JPG" width="225" /></a></div>
I saw an oreo cow getting blow dried.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyZAF1JqZDJLsQv1BmGtD0Z3tq_s7hETcmjUJ37-jgJNolDI0XWTrMemxwIQaXi149FqAXVhzXuDkITHxafNIeTIuSgxre-B4BKaoEMOKk7y3j1JwdlWgiZm-RwCau1abnwIc3449oLos/s1600/IMG_6083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyZAF1JqZDJLsQv1BmGtD0Z3tq_s7hETcmjUJ37-jgJNolDI0XWTrMemxwIQaXi149FqAXVhzXuDkITHxafNIeTIuSgxre-B4BKaoEMOKk7y3j1JwdlWgiZm-RwCau1abnwIc3449oLos/s400/IMG_6083.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Somehow, I escaped without eating anything fried, on a stick, or fried & on a stick. But I am compelled to report that this is a thing that exists:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYpZXES3DcBolB9N618hA5t0M4if42Q2VIswfnTk5y8ZjsqEVegy1hJtowGLn7e-ALLhC_BBm-kAyL2IzeU01xUfhOqEBeqZ_UW0OThDyVaWPly5w33GjEJw1sOWu2n220CwSl8nUEzq0/s1600/IMG_6086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYpZXES3DcBolB9N618hA5t0M4if42Q2VIswfnTk5y8ZjsqEVegy1hJtowGLn7e-ALLhC_BBm-kAyL2IzeU01xUfhOqEBeqZ_UW0OThDyVaWPly5w33GjEJw1sOWu2n220CwSl8nUEzq0/s400/IMG_6086.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-29630186040636158202017-09-03T02:49:00.000-04:002017-09-18T20:12:39.091-04:00More Tales From The Trenches<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtPg3hT1u3crCdsnyfCpo-JGjtko9lr6bPwH3ARokVirRKnqXcjaZsX2kRnCbkA-_DQTUVBA45wbGzSotb3aiRZXKFOQCKFJCBbZpv9AsWruX54Lq9Sa2kjnR8pJ6Z7f45eUx59GVe3u8/s1600/a4f5462c50ae5933ab31271fe33b8790.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="280" data-original-width="412" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtPg3hT1u3crCdsnyfCpo-JGjtko9lr6bPwH3ARokVirRKnqXcjaZsX2kRnCbkA-_DQTUVBA45wbGzSotb3aiRZXKFOQCKFJCBbZpv9AsWruX54Lq9Sa2kjnR8pJ6Z7f45eUx59GVe3u8/s400/a4f5462c50ae5933ab31271fe33b8790.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(You can read my first post about online
dating, in which I explain the dick pic phenomenon, <a href="http://www.piranhachicken.com/2017/02/you-have-great-hair-can-i-see-your-tits.html">here</a>.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">"Is racism a deal-breaker?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">The genesis of this post lies in the moment
I observed that I was asking myself that question in all seriousness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">It happened after speaking with an online
suitor who ticked so many of the boxes (even ginger!) that I found myself
unusually hopeful and optimistic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
over the course of a two hour conversation, during which he asked me zero
questions, it became clear that he held some racist views.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We left it that I would call him if I were
still interested and I found myself considering it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, if he ticked other boxes, was
believing that other races were intellectually inferior to whites something I
could overlook?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">It was one of those
step-back-and-look-at-yourself moments that makes you question your entire life
path since conception.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfhNGeSQ5NAnoZp3tg5IxgmL2ji9sY5g8rp5mkxu-EFz13MUvsE8QgQwBuQlicVYORxo6OYnoy7iLgl9PQG1DC047nZOJNOUi_pCiFfOJeNvQ1Oe8E-GJQTHSwv-Rin5kU6byu1oHXSgA/s1600/1336395658634_8989876.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="294" data-original-width="420" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfhNGeSQ5NAnoZp3tg5IxgmL2ji9sY5g8rp5mkxu-EFz13MUvsE8QgQwBuQlicVYORxo6OYnoy7iLgl9PQG1DC047nZOJNOUi_pCiFfOJeNvQ1Oe8E-GJQTHSwv-Rin5kU6byu1oHXSgA/s400/1336395658634_8989876.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I have <a href="http://www.piranhachicken.com/2017/04/familiarity-is-not-intimacy.html">already
explained in another post</a> that I embarked on this online dating lark for
two reasons only: 1) I want financial security but I have no chance of
achieving it on my own; and 2) I want biological children before ye olde eggs
spoil and I cannot afford to be a SPBC—new acronym I just learned: Single
Parent By Choice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Dating in such a time-sensitive, calculating
way has proven distasteful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the
best pieces of advice my mother ever gave me was never to be emotionally or
financially dependent upon a man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a
feminist, the idea of needing a man for his money is anathema. On the emotional
side, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BEJh-aMMpJ0">"I've had
enough so-so for the rest of my life"</a> but the dictates of biology and
finances don't give me the luxury of waiting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLKL1b82l8-hm6zZ2XoSm-q3-wkfDHdgoztHxV4RM1nj6Q-OE36VWZgNq5WggDTvYIxJnHrCnQDe500Iq6S0JemlnP5QzdUIbBtvexI7sAp3Tyw6MEsBakdVdX8yiVbL01xntW0wrWpJU/s1600/0e5374e9c9fef4c0760218cd0965f6d3--single-parent-single-ladies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="236" data-original-width="236" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLKL1b82l8-hm6zZ2XoSm-q3-wkfDHdgoztHxV4RM1nj6Q-OE36VWZgNq5WggDTvYIxJnHrCnQDe500Iq6S0JemlnP5QzdUIbBtvexI7sAp3Tyw6MEsBakdVdX8yiVbL01xntW0wrWpJU/s400/0e5374e9c9fef4c0760218cd0965f6d3--single-parent-single-ladies.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Add to this some recent discussions about
men amongst friends and online:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Increasing numbers of women are describing themselves as "happily"
widowed or divorced, declaring themselves "post-men" or otherwise not
seeking out relationships.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The general
consensus seems to be that men are not worth the hassle—if you don't need one
to co-parent or help pay the bills, then you are better off single.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">If I am questioning whether I would seek
out a new relationship if I were independently wealthy, and if many women are
choosing not to date, that is a pretty depressing indictment of half the
population.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There have to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">some</i> advantages to being in a
relationship, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most couples are
together for financial reasons, but surely not all of them? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could think of a few possibilities:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I occasionally have to move heavy
objects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would be nice to get a lift when
I have to take my car to the garage for repairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would be useful to have someone to watch
the house, take care of the cat, and water the plants when I go out of
town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need daily massages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like to have someone to cook and bake for
who appreciates it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But none of those things
requires a romantic partner, or even a male.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(And I've never met one willing to reciprocate a massage.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sex?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Horniness
is a constant problem but I've only fucked four men in my entire life, so
clearly I am not the casual sex type.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I've never had a one-night stand but one obviously does not need to be
in a <a href="http://www.piranhachicken.com/2016/10/lessons-learned-in-ltr-trenches-part-1.html">LTR</a>
to have sex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://www.piranhachicken.com/2017/06/i-was-savouring-laura-kipniss-snarky.html">Intimacy</a>?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I've yet to date a man capable of it so
that's not guaranteed in a relationship.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJGQoKd5wLM2ZRcz_rVJbTdo-tTIr6aKzKTj7UjEJIRyT0CgzGeWk6z9I3pxZX5s887sosDxdCJS1VRCA67t8zqVSgnjq7njAfJ59pobFYC58ALfm5CTE7YiS7SbXyGHANVH7_xuBggPg/s1600/726846fd121b5fda6997651cdceae994.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="538" data-original-width="620" height="554" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJGQoKd5wLM2ZRcz_rVJbTdo-tTIr6aKzKTj7UjEJIRyT0CgzGeWk6z9I3pxZX5s887sosDxdCJS1VRCA67t8zqVSgnjq7njAfJ59pobFYC58ALfm5CTE7YiS7SbXyGHANVH7_xuBggPg/s640/726846fd121b5fda6997651cdceae994.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvwvDX_1CGlBc8M_E2DnErEckyowkHB1Qp-t02eAmKBqEZV2_vmZZN_AM-CgJ7XmErbE6MHJr4e_p53aeXUoK7_42fp6f6-aIx73T_Ht6DuCRXjUlyzYncGi4653yJXmnM62c56_H7ofg/s1600/8372cff27eb0e15e353c2aac33abe338--dating-application-online-dating-humor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="294" data-original-width="420" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvwvDX_1CGlBc8M_E2DnErEckyowkHB1Qp-t02eAmKBqEZV2_vmZZN_AM-CgJ7XmErbE6MHJr4e_p53aeXUoK7_42fp6f6-aIx73T_Ht6DuCRXjUlyzYncGi4653yJXmnM62c56_H7ofg/s400/8372cff27eb0e15e353c2aac33abe338--dating-application-online-dating-humor.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I posed the question about the value of relationships in a private, candid
online forum populated by thousands of thoughtful women over 40. I expected a poignant stream of responses
describing the joys of coupledom that were eluding me, anecdotes, and odes to concerned,
supportive partners that would restore my faith in relationships. Or, at the very least, give me some less
cynical views on dating.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think you can guess what happened.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIV8BikQHn3_N7aFeiha1TB1piigaXob94NvZdyNUgCnERCL0yX1DK5yN9AFOadfAxseorG-WDj9dd8JiR7D-tvwdPSys7jaKYhta9KW6GXerRv7OspbJ7bs9LBjjF-d-YN_Se_Lm9log/s1600/66128c88b79e7ef2a652179086433898.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIV8BikQHn3_N7aFeiha1TB1piigaXob94NvZdyNUgCnERCL0yX1DK5yN9AFOadfAxseorG-WDj9dd8JiR7D-tvwdPSys7jaKYhta9KW6GXerRv7OspbJ7bs9LBjjF-d-YN_Se_Lm9log/s320/66128c88b79e7ef2a652179086433898.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">At this point, I don't expect to meet anyone
online. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am overwhelmed with messages
(I respond to about one out of 100) but it's easy to dismiss anyone who does
not tick every box on my list.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A 51-year-old
man from CT messaged me yesterday and his profile reflected a well-earned
cynicism about online dating: "</span><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">What's
so frustrating is that [after 7 years on this dating site] I have to qualify
myself to mostly antisocial, contemptuous, vainglorious, standoffish,
superficial, narcissistic, aloof, fickle women...Which I refuse to do. Ladies,
you should be lucky to meet/date me." I can understand his frustration;
I'm yet another woman who is going to see that he is only 5'8" and
balding, and never write back to him.</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, if I met that guy in another context,
perhaps he would have some qualities that might inspire compromise or there
might be chemistry that overrides every other consideration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, not him, he's clearly an asshole, but I
mean any guy to whom I don't deign to reply based on a 5 second glance at his photo
and profile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQVeHZxmZ9QsArUZ0oBeDOPsdf6VWy3H_uo2KarWzeLPbxwA1QoPxRena0a-RGOmn-dWSaI9QHJywIpjdphwka5IUXS_tH28mt44rlGkopAMz61FTdROiWcxCwVcSIrrnCd4kbuseeAjo/s1600/meetonweb.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="500" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQVeHZxmZ9QsArUZ0oBeDOPsdf6VWy3H_uo2KarWzeLPbxwA1QoPxRena0a-RGOmn-dWSaI9QHJywIpjdphwka5IUXS_tH28mt44rlGkopAMz61FTdROiWcxCwVcSIrrnCd4kbuseeAjo/s320/meetonweb.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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OTOH, I could have great chemistry with
someone I met in person who turns out to be unsuitable – maybe he doesn't want
kids or he doesn't have enough money. That
would suck, but at least I have a better
chance in person of meeting someone whom I like rather than who ticks boxes, who
inspires me to view a potential relationship other than as a necessary evil.</div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVZGGOFicZtXdT_W9rHQAKOVvzCtr3p2F58ehZ4vyZgUG5UNJokNLNBB_j72623X7Oiqmpk2ICGn1hVJzGroInX7gUFfcR0RMVhiNnULEn7VWi0WkbcGQigKrbIsoftevGEEFjS_aKMkk/s1600/online-dating-strivectin-ecards-someecards.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="237" data-original-width="425" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVZGGOFicZtXdT_W9rHQAKOVvzCtr3p2F58ehZ4vyZgUG5UNJokNLNBB_j72623X7Oiqmpk2ICGn1hVJzGroInX7gUFfcR0RMVhiNnULEn7VWi0WkbcGQigKrbIsoftevGEEFjS_aKMkk/s400/online-dating-strivectin-ecards-someecards.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-72182736390086827702017-08-14T00:40:00.000-04:002017-08-15T11:51:27.450-04:00Book Review: Dear Committee Members, Kindly Go Fuck Yourselves<div class="MsoNormal">
Dear Readers,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I hope this missive finds you in
"fighting form," rather than in the usual post-holiday sunburnt
torpor, and eagerly awaiting my recommendation for your final summer read.
(Ha!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I acquiesce to the clamouring
demand for my venerable opinion and with suitably false humility suggest via
this LOR that you slurp up <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dear-Committee-Members-Julie-Schumacher/dp/0345807332" target="_blank">"Dear Committee Members" by Julie Schumacher</a> as your last beach treat of the season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will go down as easily and quickly as a
popsicle melting in the August heat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
will find its taste more tart than sweet—definitely a tangy lime rather than a
syrupy strawberry—with a bitter finish akin to licking the drips from your hand
and finding they taste like acrid sunscreen and salty sweat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">This tidy tome comprises a representative
sample of a year's worth of correspondence (entirely one-sided) from a tenured
professor of creative writing and English at the
not-subtly-but-nonetheless-aptly named Payne University, a second-tier school
in the Midwest that is tottering on the threshold of tumbling into the third
tier, despite its best efforts to attract students by the addition of yoga
studios, climbing walls, and rampant grade inflation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">It seems trite to call our prolific letter
writer curmudgeonly but the term is a perfect fit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is inopportunely implored to write LORs
for students, faculty, and staff when they apply for jobs, grad school admissions,
scholarships, and myriad other opportunities to advance their careers or avoid
homelessness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His charming quirk is that
rather than say no when he cannot in good conscious write a positive
recommendation, he simply writes a sardonic one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This practice occasionally backfires on him,
such as when he is eager to get rid of his department's rude and unhelpful IT
specialist but his honest LORs preclude the fellow being hired away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Not limiting himself to a cheerfully blunt
assessment of his subject's shortcomings, he adds fulsome commentary on
the potential employer, the job, and the remuneration offered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he has exhausted those topics, he launches
into scathing indictments of the state of the humanities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For anyone even tangentially affiliated with
academia today, his withering denunciations will resonate.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">"Sociology has gone the way of
poli-sci and econ, now firmly in the clutches of rabid number crunchers who
have abandoned or forgotten the link between their abstruse theoretical musings
and the presence of human beings on the planet's surface."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">On sending a student to mental health
services: "Please offer her something more lasting and substantial than
guided breathing or twenty minutes with a golden retriever."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Larded onto a LOR for a former student who
wishes to enter a seminary: "Literature has served me faithfully (no pun
intended) as an ersatz religion, and I would wager that the pursuit of the
ineffable via aesthetics in various forms has saved as many foundering souls as
a belief in god."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">"Mr. Napp demonstrates all the winsome
ebullience one expects these days from a young person more inclined to
socialise with machines."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">"Deny him this fellowship and he will
undoubtedly turn his hand to something more lucrative, probably hawking illegal
substances between the athletic facilities and the Pizza Barn."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">"May the bump in salary allow her to
avoid scurvy by adding fruit to her diet once a week."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">The key to our professor's caustic snark is
tenure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is able to say with impunity
what others can only think privately or whinge about whilst nursing a beer with
friends between adjunct gigs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">The one weakness in the book is its
reliance on the professor's misbegotten love life as fodder for much of its
humour and poignancy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If his divorces,
dalliances, and affairs had been less predictable, his epistolary musings may have been less cringe-inducing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the plight of the
self-absorbed writer who dissolves into middle-aged bitterness and self-pity when he realises
the limits of his talents has been done to death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course women leave him once they see the
man behind the curtain and his flagellations appear self-serving and
passive-aggressive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His attempts to make
nice with his exes in an it's-all-water-under-the-bridge manner are undercut by
the obvious insincerity of his apologies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">But the pleasures of the cutting sarcasm
and shameless snark in his correspondence more than compensate for any shortcomings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I will leave you with this excerpt from his
response to a request to serve as department chair:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">"…the upper echelons of the
administration justifiably detest me; because my colleagues view me as a
cantankerous pariah; and because, given my stance on several university-wide issues,
I would consider the position a significant ethical and even spiritual
compromise."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Acerbically,</span><br />
Your Anonymous Blogger Who Doesn't Have
Tenure</div>
Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-78009346293745840192017-08-07T00:44:00.000-04:002017-08-07T21:24:37.638-04:00Tires & Testicles (Part 3)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiejpZbWVaTz0FrAnP_IT_whk_6bcLW77eVyOI2Kh02NkAz1p41XR8lDCb4yxTGfQG-ONsDcuBPu1LXCsCwHypfXqdlMS92gUJ64ChRHw-eAlsZZMIRHYOqP4mok83hhfW1mMyaBYRanmg/s1600/tiresortesticles.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="294" data-original-width="420" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiejpZbWVaTz0FrAnP_IT_whk_6bcLW77eVyOI2Kh02NkAz1p41XR8lDCb4yxTGfQG-ONsDcuBPu1LXCsCwHypfXqdlMS92gUJ64ChRHw-eAlsZZMIRHYOqP4mok83hhfW1mMyaBYRanmg/s320/tiresortesticles.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You can read <a href="http://www.piranhachicken.com/2017/04/tires-or-testicles-part-i.html">Part
1 here</a> and <a href="http://www.piranhachicken.com/2017/08/tires-or-testicles-part-2.html">Part
2 here</a>. There wasn't supposed to be
a Part 3 but let's just say it bears out the truth of the expression.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">This post is about the agonizing decision
of whether or not to geld my Friesian stallion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A lot of people seem to think this decision should be easy, that of
course I would geld him, but it's not a simple decision at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's irrevocable so it's not a decision to be
made lightly or for temporary convenience, and it means giving up a significant
lifelong dream and goal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">From the time I was a horse-crazy kid, I
always assumed I'd have a stallion someday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>From the Black Stallion and other stories, from seeing famous horses in
racing and other sports, even from collecting Breyer horse models, I saw that the
most beautiful horses, the ones with the strongest bonds with their owners, the
ones with presence and speed or talent or intelligence were usually stallions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I realised it would be challenging to keep
a stallion but when I became involved in the Friesian world, I saw that the
performance horses at expos and demos and in competition were mostly
stallions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first Friesian I met in
person was a stallion; he was an ambassador for the breed and you could plop a
toddler on his back, and I met women who had Friesian stallions as
pets with no intention of ever breeding them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I also saw Friesian stallions ridden or driven with other stallions, and
with mares.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some lived in bachelor herds
or with barren or pregnant mares or gelding friends rather than being stuck
alone (which is cruel for a herd animal).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Friesian stallions weren't as difficult as stallions of other breeds;
their sweet temperaments made them seem as safe and tractable and
easy-going as geldings of other breeds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">When I finally got my dream Friesian,
thanks to the generosity of a horse-loving relative, I wanted to keep him
intact for two reasons:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">1) Type:</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">He is a baroque-style Friesian, sired with
frozen semen from a long-dead baroque-style approved stallion.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I love the baroque Friesian and they are
rapidly dying out because a more modern style is taking over the breed.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The breed registry (I realise this will bore
Friesian people, but I am also writing for an audience that doesn't necessarily
know or care about such things) is only approving modern type Friesians because
that is what the market is demanding at present.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">My plan was to present him at keuring and
give him his chance at approval, knowing that it was unlikely due to his type,
but I felt strongly that he should be given a chance.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">If he was not approved, the plan was to have
all of the same tests done on him that are done on approved stallions and, if
he passed, to make him available to those Friesian lovers like me who don't
want the baroque style to die out.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">There
are quite a few of us, and no stallions to breed to anymore (and few baroque
mares left as well).</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">When I tell Friesian
people this, some protest that I am wrong and send me photos of approved
stallions that they call "baroque".</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">And this frustrates me because they are far from baroque, and have no
hair anymore.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">It make me heartsick to
see what has happened to the breed.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">So,
I have felt not just a personal preference for keeping the baroque style alive
but also an obligation to the breed and to other baroque style aficionados.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">2) Looks: Even if he were never
bred (and, just to make this doubly clear, I would never consider breeding him
if he did not pass the rigorous health tests that approved stallions must
undergo—I am not a general advocate of breeding to unapproved stallions and my
ONLY reason for considering it is the fact that the registry has made it
necessary to do so to get a baroque Friesian), only stallions have the Friesian
look—the hair, the presence, the hair, the high-stepping, floating gaits, the
hair.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Unlike in other breeds, you would
never mistake a Friesian mare or gelding for a stallion, in person or in
photos.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">When horses lose the
testosterone, they lose the hair.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">With
most breeds, you can't tell the difference but it's very obvious in
Friesians.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I know many people who have
Friesian stallions that they have never bred and have no intention of breeding
but they keep them intact for the look.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Since Friesians are like giant Labradors, the fact that they are
stallions appears not to be an issue in terms of safety and handling.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Given the above, why is there any question of
gelding him at all?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, as Robert
Burns noted so memorably, "t</span><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">he
best-laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley</span><span lang="EN-GB">".</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>His height:</b></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">As I stated above, even though the registry
is not approving baroque-type Friesians anymore, I have intended to give him
his chance.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Colts can go to be judged
starting at age 3 but they must have a minimum height of 15'3".</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Silas was a good-sized foal and weanling and
a normal sized yearling.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">At 18 months old,
he reached 14'2"….and there he has stayed.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I couldn't bring him to the keuring at 3 because he was still 14'2"
and I can't bring him now at 4 because he is still 14'2".</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">By the time he reached age 2, I was beginning
to worry about his height but thought he'd inevitably have a growth spurt
soon.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">When he never did, I consulted
many vets, and the Fenway Foundation, and had tests done.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The collective opinion of all the experts
that have examined and tested him is that it's a mystery.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">His conformation and movement are not only
correct, they are excellent.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">He is as close
to perfect as anyone could dare hope for except for looking like you left him
in the dryer for too long and he shrunk.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">He is not a dwarf and his hormones and everything else are normal.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">It's just that people keep asking me jokingly
if I got a Fell pony by mistake.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Friesians grow until they are 7 and I desperately hope he will get
taller but there's no magic formula to make that happen.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">If I feed him more, he just gets wider.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">If he does grow, it seems unlikely he will
grow enough to reach 15'3" and ever be able to be presented at
keuring.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Also, I am 5'9", so my
dream of riding him in costume in exhibitions is already shattered because I
will look ridiculous on a pony.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I am
aware that gelding increases height but, based on my research, that is only true
when gelding occurs as a foal.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">It's too
late for gelding to increase his height now.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">But this is the main reason to geld him:</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Even if he is otherwise perfect, he is too small for anyone to want to
breed to him and too small to be shown as a magnificent Friesian stallion.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>His hormones: </b>Until mid-March,
when he was nearly 4, he lived in a big pasture with a herd of geldings.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">He also had the best temperament you could
ever wish for, even in a breed known for good temperaments.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The fact that he had no clue that he was a
stallion made it easy to keep him as a stallion.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">But that abruptly changed when the mares at
his barn went in season this past spring.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Like an adolescent boy who wakes up one day with sticky sheets and a
deeper voice, Silas suddenly became very interested in girls.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Since he didn't have access to them, like
incarcerated men, he humped what was available: the none-too-pleased geldings.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">This led to his removal from the herd and
subsequent difficulty in figuring out where to put him at a stable that doesn't
have the facilities to accommodate a second stallion (the owner has her own).</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Like teenagers of all species, when puberty
kicked in, he underwent a Jekyll & Hyde-like personality transplant.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I would now classify him as dangerous, and I
won't handle him solo for my own safety.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">He settles down to work, and he is NOT mean—he is still the same sweet
boy under the raging hormones—but he is so excited by other horses that he can
accidentally harm people.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">After being so
easy to lead he'd follow anyone like a lamb, you now need a whip in hand as a
precaution and he rears and pulls and screams and when you finally get him in
the cross-ties, he fidgets and calls and tries to bust out to get to any other
horses he can see or hear.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">He's not
trying to be bad or evasive or hurt anyone; he is just controlled by his
hormones now.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">And I am not exaggerating
when I say this happened almost literally overnight.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>His happiness:</b></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><b> </b> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Silas loved living outside with the
geldings.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">He hated being cooped up in a
stall and he hated being separated from other horses.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">To some extent, it was good for him to get
used to a stall and to get used to being by himself—he was too herd-bound.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">But having lived with other horses all his
life, he is very social.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">He loved his
friends (even if they didn't always love the baby who wanted to play all the
time) and he loved living outdoors.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I
never intended to condemn him to a stallion's life of living alone.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">When he was purchased for me, I was
underemployed and the arrangement of him living 250 miles from me, with my
friend's geldings, was meant to be just temporary.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I intended to board him closer (and
eventually have my own farm) and to have a gelding buddy for him to live
with.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I also intended to handle him
daily so that by the time the hormones exerted themselves and he became an
obnoxious teenager, we'd have a bond and he'd respect and trust me.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">As a first-time horse owner, I would not have
bought an adult stallion.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">But raising
one from a foal would give me a chance to get to know him and acquire skills
that would keep me safe by the time he grew up.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">My money situation did not improve.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">In fact, it got worse: my partner left me two years ago, when Silas was
two, and my living expenses doubled.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">A
year ago, I began freelancing and my income is both insufficient for even my
basic living expenses and erratic.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I
also expected to be out of debt by the time Silas grew up and instead I am in
more debt due to long periods of unemployment when I lived on my credit
cards.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Due to severe OCD-induced
procrastination and a total lack of a work ethic, I am in some respects
unemployable, which limits my income potential.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">So, I have never been in a position to move him closer, nor have him in
regular training, nor see him often enough to build a bond or increase my
confidence and skill to the point of being able to handle him now that he is an
adult stallion.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">If he were gelded, he
could go back out in the field with his buddies, which would take the strain
off my friend who is keeping him for me for free, it would make him easier and
safer to handle, and make him easier to board if I ever have the money to bring
him closer.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">He would no longer be alone
nor be driven crazy by his hormones.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Given those reasons, why is there any
hesitation in gelding him now?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well,
gelding spells failure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It means I
failed to acquire the money to raise him properly—to handle him, have him trained,
build a bond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It means I have failed to
help the baroque type stay alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
means I give up my dream of ever taking him to a keuring or ever having an
announcer say that I am entering the arena to perform a musical freestyle on my
Friesian stallion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It means giving up my
Friesian dream.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-GB">Finally, I fear that I have a simplistic idea that gelding him will fix
all of his new temperament issues but he is still a young horse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He will still have the attention span of a
gnat with ADHD and he will take about 12 months to settle down from the
gelding—by which time, with regular handling, he might have settled down
anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't want to cure a headache
by decapitation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gelding is irrevocable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he grows, if he settles down, if he turns
out to be magnificent—his movement and balance are remarkable and he is showing
a talent for performance that is lacking in the baroque type; when asked if
they'd ever approve a baroque-type again, a Dutch judge said "show me a
baroque Friesian that can move like a modern one, I have no prejudice against
them, they just can't do the movements with their build"—I don't want to
spend the rest of my life regretting it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I feel like I am rushing into it because I am scared to handle him right
now but he will still be a bratty teenager, even when gelded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also feel I am rushing into it because of
short-term money issues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I find a
rich husband, I don't want to have implemented a permanent solution to a
short-term problem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's a HUGE big deal
and it violates everything I ever intended or expected about owning a
Friesian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If his hair thinned, if his
temperament didn't go back to his old self, if he reached 15'3", I know I
would regret it bitterly for the rest of my life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I have sought advice from my Friesian
acquaintances around the world and I have deeply appreciated their honest,
heartfelt, and difficult answers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some
of them have tried to assure me that gelding him so late means he will retain
some of the hair, but there is no way to know for sure; it is a risk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Geldings do not have comparable hair as a
rule.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Finally, there is the issue of
bonding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We haven't spent enough time
together to form the bond that I want to have with him but, when he was
younger, he seemed to be attached to me and focused on me when I visited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, he's all about other horses and pays no
attention to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realise every parent
goes through this with their teenager.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But I feel that I am counting on gelding to bring him back to me, to
make him focus on me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That seems selfish
and pathetic, and there is no guarantee that gelding will do that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am just counting on him being less
distracted without the testosterone and that seems logical but may be wishful thinking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Since this has all come up so suddenly
since spring, I was planning to send him, as soon as I could afford it, for a
few months of driving training, to buy time where he is not driving my generous
friend nuts and where he would be in full-time training, learning some stallion manners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But this is now complicated by the fact that
the farm where I was intending to send him just had a devastating fire, so it
is unlikely they will be in a position to train him for the foreseeable future.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">So, here is what I am planning to do:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>1) Get him tested for genetic diseases; 2) If
he passes those tests, get him collected so I at least have some baroque semen stored
if he does turn out to be worth breeding in future; 3) Then it looks like,
unless something changes drastically, I will have to geld him.</span></div>
Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-78858347812497580352017-08-05T19:59:00.002-04:002017-08-05T22:37:33.707-04:00Tires or Testicles (Part 2)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiejpZbWVaTz0FrAnP_IT_whk_6bcLW77eVyOI2Kh02NkAz1p41XR8lDCb4yxTGfQG-ONsDcuBPu1LXCsCwHypfXqdlMS92gUJ64ChRHw-eAlsZZMIRHYOqP4mok83hhfW1mMyaBYRanmg/s1600/tiresortesticles.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="294" data-original-width="420" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiejpZbWVaTz0FrAnP_IT_whk_6bcLW77eVyOI2Kh02NkAz1p41XR8lDCb4yxTGfQG-ONsDcuBPu1LXCsCwHypfXqdlMS92gUJ64ChRHw-eAlsZZMIRHYOqP4mok83hhfW1mMyaBYRanmg/s320/tiresortesticles.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In April I wrote the first of two posts
predicated on the maxim that if it has tires or testicles, it is going to cause
you grief. <a href="http://www.piranhachicken.com/2017/04/tires-or-testicles-part-i.html">Post
1</a> was tires, about my car needing two unrelated expensive repairs two weeks
apart. This post was supposed to be
about wrestling with the decision of whether to geld my stallion—i.e. removing
the testicles to reduce the grief. I
will get to <i>that</i> testicle talk later,
first I have other grief to recount, including on the tires side of the
equation. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-C2amy26SdYNyGbgKoL1kJaVCdhsnwF_ZDc_yUTAg-Dh1_nvpUeMsYxCGfnvTp3UfHHbuiWFVv2Mo0hfFSADieUred4lzxyaJIweVwQjiPvnHPgKeaKKIZ_kNWIxJxO_QRVnSddnlSWk/s1600/sleepysilas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="570" data-original-width="850" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-C2amy26SdYNyGbgKoL1kJaVCdhsnwF_ZDc_yUTAg-Dh1_nvpUeMsYxCGfnvTp3UfHHbuiWFVv2Mo0hfFSADieUred4lzxyaJIweVwQjiPvnHPgKeaKKIZ_kNWIxJxO_QRVnSddnlSWk/s400/sleepysilas.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Too little to ride here.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-C515Iz9y4fK6px0Cz9DrI4Nt0aNSVNnGm7C7IlvK00bpc9iqmSHb1xPlpQZaIwbNqV5687plQspw0UHfdijD3yyKtAxXN1nX3FKHJoM0l4pTnpNA0hJ5X5F-cOciihTqPkpAbax2yeA/s1600/Silastongue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-C515Iz9y4fK6px0Cz9DrI4Nt0aNSVNnGm7C7IlvK00bpc9iqmSHb1xPlpQZaIwbNqV5687plQspw0UHfdijD3yyKtAxXN1nX3FKHJoM0l4pTnpNA0hJ5X5F-cOciihTqPkpAbax2yeA/s400/Silastongue.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Being silly, and still too little to ride.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-pQ_0obn0o5k2ngQkctLSukJiSpv9rF-iJS2TUZIuwNBkjuTHxFg8XAngucnJjhFxod_ssb5MZujpZMmq2doGIPI-N68r1eFVMjTnYzS_cyHtIu-h8KntVROROXVSmQf8_xlWCEgdnNk/s1600/Silas11-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="724" data-original-width="950" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-pQ_0obn0o5k2ngQkctLSukJiSpv9rF-iJS2TUZIuwNBkjuTHxFg8XAngucnJjhFxod_ssb5MZujpZMmq2doGIPI-N68r1eFVMjTnYzS_cyHtIu-h8KntVROROXVSmQf8_xlWCEgdnNk/s400/Silas11-8.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bigger here, but still too little to ride.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I've been waiting four years for my little
fuzzy guy to grow up enough for me to ride him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have had him in training for a few months now and my trainer said he
was ready for me to get on him anytime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In his training, he has always been docile, willing, as obedient as you
can expect from a youngster, and accepting of each new piece of equipment or
lesson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He's never shown the slightest
fear—no anxiety, no spookiness, nothing seemed to faze him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When <a href="http://www.piranhachicken.com/2016/12/o-holy-nightmare.html">he colicked
back in December</a>, the vets at the hospital remarked on how amazing it was
that they could do anything to him without sedation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got lucky with his sweet temperament.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I could fault him for anything, it would
be a short attention span (attributable to youth) and laziness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">So, I expected to sit on him gently for a
few seconds, have photos taken of my Friesian grin, and post them to all the
Friesian groups to receive congratulations from the Friesian peeps who have
followed my Friesian dream.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">That's not quite how it went.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Silas is cared for by a generous friend who
knows how much he means to me and also knows I can't afford him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She keeps him for me for free and I just pay
for his food and other bills, and any training I can intermittently
afford.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I've only had him in consistent
training since mid-May.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm very lucky
to have such a friend but the drawback is that she lives 250 miles away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, seeing Silas means a long & expensive
500 mile round-trip drive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It breaks my
heart to see him so rarely but I can only get out there once a month, if that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can't board him closer because I can't
afford normal board rates; it's as simple as that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Either I have a horse I see rarely or no
horse, there is no other option for me unless I marry money like a Jane Austen
heroine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">For the first 3 ½ years he lived in her
gelding pasture with a rotating herd of her geldings and boarders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was happy so, whenever I missed him
unbearably, I consoled myself that he had a good life, getting to be outside
24/7 and enjoying lots of friends to play with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He wasn't stuck in a stall with limited/solo turnout.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had a shelter in the field for inclement
weather but he never used it, to the point that my friend once put some hay in
there to check he wasn't afraid of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Nope, no fear; the weather just didn't bother him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing really bothered him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was sweet and easy-going.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only problem he caused was playing in his
water, which meant extra work for the barn slaves refilling it multiple times
per day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A toddler could have led him
using dental floss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, unless there
was food—I admit the toddler would have been dragged to the food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt I had won the temperament jackpot with
this cute little stinker.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">That all changed abruptly in
mid-March.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was rising 4 years old and
when the mares in the barn went in season this past spring, he suddenly
realised he was a stallion for the first time. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like any horny teenage boy, he began humping
the nearest thing that would stand still, which in his case turned out to be
the geldings in his pasture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As you
might imagine, the geldings weren't as enamoured of this new game and it
quickly became apparent that he could get hurt, or might inadvertently hurt
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had to leave his friends, but
my friend did not have any place else to put him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For awhile, she put him in the empty stall of
a gelding who was turned out during the day, whilst her stallion was in the
stallion paddock, then when the gelding and her stallion came in, she'd switch
him to the stallion paddock for the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He hated being in a stall and started to act up when he was led from the
stallion paddock into the barn—shaking his head and even rearing, and charging
out of the stall when they went in to put his halter on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The barn slaves began carrying a whip when
they led him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He also became vocal,
calling to other horses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He called to
geldings as much as mares—I don't think he is clear on the concept; his
hormones are simply driving him crazy and he was now perpetually excited about
everyone and everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Later, my
friend started putting him in the round pen during the daytime, since he hated
the stall, but that is set up near the mare pasture and he tried to bust out of
it when a cute little mare who was in season flirted with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, he went in the stallion paddock
full-time, with my friend's poor stallion getting little turnout.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then he started taking down the boards in the
stallion paddock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They reinforced it but
there is still worry about him getting out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have felt terrible that after living unobtrusively in a field for so
long, he is now causing so much difficulty around where to keep him
safely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This would all be so much easier
if he were a gelding and could just be thrown back into the pasture, but I will
get to that later.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I saw him for his birthday on June 1 and,
after he'd only been in training for two weeks, my trainer was able to
long-line him like an old pro.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His newly
difficult behaviour disappears in the ring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Like Jekyll & Hyde, once he is in that indoor arena, away from
flirting fillies, he becomes his old self again, docile and obedient and quick
to learn and accept everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I came
back a month later and long-lined him myself, which was wonderful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I consider long-lining an important training
technique but not an easy one to master.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am far from an expert, but the fact that we did a passable job
together was exciting and felt like a good start.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Yesterday, I groomed him and tacked him up
with great difficulty—there was a mare in season in the stall next to where he
was cross-tied and he would not stop screaming at her and dancing around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At one point, I took him outside to
hand-graze him so someone could get access to the wash stall, and he reared as
we went out the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm not sure if it
was because he was leaving the mare behind or because he could see more mares
outside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was sudden, and he had never
reared on me before, nor done anything worse than pull when I was leading him
(usually in the direction of some appealing grass).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He caught me under the chin with a hoof as he
went up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was shocked and upset.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would never hurt me on purpose but I am
always acutely conscious that he could hurt me accidentally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a sore, bruised chin that could
easily, with just a bit more force, have been a broken jaw and broken teeth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead of enjoying watching him graze on a
lazy warm August afternoon, I was wary, being careful where I stood in relation
to him and watching him like a ticking bomb, getting his attention back swiftly
with a tug on the lead rope and a sharp word every time he raised his head to
look at the mares.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't like not
being able to relax, having to be on high alert for my own safety.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I was shaken up by that, and also by the
fact that it took two people to get him ready.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I could not have done it by myself and it bothers me that I cannot
handle my horse on my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without
someone else holding his head the whole time, he would have busted out of the
cross-ties in his eagerness to go say hello to that mare (not that I blame
him—she's a nice chestnut Irish Draught, but he'd need a ladder to mate with
her).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">But I was mollified once we started
working.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was his old self, so I decided
to go ahead with the plan to try sitting on him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was nervous, and there were a lot of people
watching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone at the barn knew that
no-one was allowed to sit on him until I did so first; it was extremely
important to me to be the first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
been waiting for his moment for four years, and I kept putting it off to let
him grow and mature, and until I had the money for the preliminary groundwork
training that had to precede it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">He stood calmly at the mounting block, as
expected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I leaned over him, draped like
a sack of potatoes, and lifted my feet off the mounting block until he was
supporting my full weight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn't
even flinch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is where things went
pear-shaped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My trainer said to drape
myself over him so that she could lead him a few steps like that and I
misinterpreted her command as being to swing my leg over and sit up
properly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As soon as I did that, he got
scared and took off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was on a lunge
line, so he could only go in circles around my trainer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gave her a minute to see if she could stop
him, if we could still redeem this moment and get that Friesian grin
photo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he was just getting more
amped up and she told me to bail before he learned to buck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiumc0R7KuVI6Hto4DliBHJyvmdzI02hYtPjnoqsERiIp-SXDQClKr7IiyJgk8zWMPvr5tjYfz-l82lPJE5LHmdu4NF81MSzRrifNhVgvnB_H74q8CJf0QPbfHtZgqfl1Bb9Pdy5ejTFlk/s1600/7da9c958c10a57b74cb834e6e2c352a9a3.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="294" data-original-width="420" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiumc0R7KuVI6Hto4DliBHJyvmdzI02hYtPjnoqsERiIp-SXDQClKr7IiyJgk8zWMPvr5tjYfz-l82lPJE5LHmdu4NF81MSzRrifNhVgvnB_H74q8CJf0QPbfHtZgqfl1Bb9Pdy5ejTFlk/s320/7da9c958c10a57b74cb834e6e2c352a9a3.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Now, we were all taught as kids how to do
an emergency dismount.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something about
propelling yourself away so you don't land under the moving hooves, relaxing,
rolling into a ball, and landing gracefully on your feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I had never parted company with a moving
horse voluntarily before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I've done so
involuntarily on more occasions than I care to remember, but doing it on
purpose is different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was trying to
remember all this as my trainer was urging me to get off NOW so I just flung
myself off as far away as I could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was not graceful; I landed on my face, not my feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was not hurt, but I was spitting out dirt
for the next hour, and I have a fat lip, scraped cheek, and sore ribs on the
side where I landed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">My own fault entirely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do not blame Silas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He lulled me into thinking he would accept me
on his back as he had accepted everything else, and I am still certain he would
have if I had not rushed it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What scared
him was not the weight but the height—it was me sitting up that was the
problem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I should have done the
sack-of-potatoes exercise a few times, then stood on the mounting block and petted
him and talked to him from above, waved my arms, gotten him used to my presence
up there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he was always so calm, so
amenable to any new thing you threw at him, and I see him so rarely, I didn't
want to wait another month to try again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I put pressure on myself because people at the barn were eager to get on
him and I was delaying his training by insisting on being the first and not
being able to get there to do it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
other people were beginning to wonder why I hadn't ridden him yet when he had
turned four already.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just kept
replying that I hadn't had money for training and besides he was physically
immature for his age—and I am not a small person, and wouldn't be even if I
weren't fat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also felt rushed because
I was running late—I had that long drive home ahead of me, and so many people
were watching expectantly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I should
have just leaned on him and called it a day, insisted on no-one sitting on him
even if I could not get back for a month or two, and just stopped making myself
crazy feeling like I have to make up for lost time every brief visit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhojWAMOy0abMGfC9B2TuBZcH6ycjcRcPTP21vhOmvas513Z6dBG1wb3U_T9QFtope6ZjX0W-Dk7_Yj5i5jI-x7o_BE65cOlkbKRxxQuE9QC9LfICMqujTj1y6paya8n3nooc9k-ryihaY/s1600/sport-bruise-bruised-luck-lucky-fortune-smb070212_low.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="506" data-original-width="400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhojWAMOy0abMGfC9B2TuBZcH6ycjcRcPTP21vhOmvas513Z6dBG1wb3U_T9QFtope6ZjX0W-Dk7_Yj5i5jI-x7o_BE65cOlkbKRxxQuE9QC9LfICMqujTj1y6paya8n3nooc9k-ryihaY/s400/sport-bruise-bruised-luck-lucky-fortune-smb070212_low.jpg" width="315" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">When everyone asked me if I was ok, I
replied that only my ego was bruised, and that is the most difficult injury to
repair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel so stupid for misinterpreting
what my trainer was asking me to do, for not realising he'd be scared if I
suddenly sat up on him with no warning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As little as I am there, I have tried not to send him mixed messages or
make any mistakes, or teach him bad habits, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I've been worried that my startling him might
have made his future training under saddle more difficult.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This incident intensified my ongoing misery
of feeling like a failure as a horse mom trying to make this work long distance
on no money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He should know me and trust
me by now but I don't see him often enough for him to think of me as mom and I
am not confident enough in handling him and commanding him for him to trust me
as an alpha leader.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just don't have
the experience because I see him so infrequently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, I remind myself I am lucky to have him
at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A Friesian I rarely see is much,
much better than no Friesian at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
would never sell him for any amount of money; I couldn't love him more if he
were my own biological child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we
don't have any kind of bond, and that breaks my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he knew me better, he might not have been
so scared, I might have been able to redeem the situation by talking to him and
getting him to calm down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">It was a nightmare, not what my long-imagined
first ride on my very own Friesian was supposed to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm not the sort of person who naturally looks for the positive; I usually find it too Pollyanna-ish. If I do look for the positive, it has to be slightly snarky & sarcastic. So, I am gonna go with this: Most Friesians can't balance themselves to canter with a rider at all, let alone on a small circle, until they are 6 or 7. Ok, I'll add these, too:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">1) I had the sense not to touch
the reins, nor squeeze with my legs to stay on.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I held onto the strap on the front of the saddle, that's it.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I didn't attempt to pick up the other
stirrup, or do anything but hang on to that strap quietly, with as little
movement as possible, and wait until he calmed down.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I knew if I picked up the reins and pulled on
his mouth, it would be all over.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">That
would have scared him more, and he would have reared or bucked or bolted and it
would have set his training back years.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I made a stupid mistake in misunderstanding my trainer and sitting up on
him, but at least I did not compound it by pulling on his mouth.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">2) When I did in-hand work with
him before our ill-fated attempt at backing, his lateral work was amazing.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">He crosses both front and back legs at the
slightest urging as if going sideways is as easy as going forwards.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">This is not typical of Baroque-style Friesians,
and I have seen advanced dressage horses of many breeds who can't or won't do
lateral work like that.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">So, for what
it's worth, there seems to be potential there.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Next I need to see how he likes jumping.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Believe it or not, the day gets worse:
About halfway to the barn that morning, the battery light on the dash had
started flickering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't pay it much
heed as battery was fairly new, car was running fine, and the warning lights
are notoriously flaky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the way back,
it came on steadily and was joined by the SRS light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>About halfway home, the gas and temperature
gauges started to droop, the car slowed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I stayed in the outside lane, doing about 45mph.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the car's performance lagged, my goals
shifted:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First I wanted to make it home,
then I wanted to make it within 100 miles of home because that's AAA's towing
coverage, finally I just wanted to make it to the Starfucks on I-84 in Danbury,
CT, where I always stop, because it's open late and I could wait there for
AAA.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From frequent travel on that route,
I know it's exactly 110 miles from my house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Unfortunately, the car died completely just 2 miles from the Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was in the outside lane but barely made it
onto the shoulder—I was just over the white line and my wing mirror was in
traffic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rang AAA.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you've ever called for roadside
assistance, you know their first question is always "Are you in a safe
location?"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"No!" I
replied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They said they'd get a tow
truck out right away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I figured it was
the alternator, not the battery, but just in case I asked about their battery
changing service.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>AAA said that ends at
7pm and it was now 8pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pointed out
that was asinine, that car batteries don't only die before suppertime.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">About 10 minutes later, some state troopers
pull in behind me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hate and fear cops
but these guys were surprisingly nice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They lit some flares behind me (since I couldn't turn on my hazard
lights, or any lights), and they pushed my car well onto the shoulder so it
wasn't so close to traffic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then
they asked me what towing service AAA had called, warning me that AAA's national
dispatch sometimes doesn't know which local towing companies are licensed to
pick up on the Interstate and they had to verify this one was licensed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Great, I thought, I may have to wait longer
if the cops insist on AAA getting a different towing company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily, that turned out not to be an issue,
but there was a different problem:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>that
towing company wouldn't tow the 112 miles to my house and AAA was having a hard
time finding one that would.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They tried
to persuade me to get it towed locally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I explained to them that wouldn't do me any good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They asked if someone could pick me up, and
the car could be towed later, or if I could stay in a hotel or rent a car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was flabbergasted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course no-one could pick me up, nor could
I afford a hotel or rental car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if
I could, how would that help with my car?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I'm not going to trust it to some random mechanic in Outer Bumblefuck,
CT, nor did I have time to drive back in a rental car on Monday to get it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No-one would be available to work on it over
the weekend anywhere I left it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was
bullshit; I needed to get home asap, and get it to my Volvo specialist mechanic
on Monday.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">After an hour and a half, AAA finally found
a company that would take the job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
cops had left but they came back about 45 minutes later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was useful because it was now pitch
black and they used their floodlights whilst the tow guy loaded the car on the
flatbed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He bitched about how my car didn't
have a good place to attach the chains and he was having difficulty getting it
on the truck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He asked me to work some
levers whilst he moved the chain around, which I thought was odd, but I was
happy to oblige and just get the fuck on with it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was aching, miserable, exhausted,
dehydrated, covered in dirt, and desperate to get home for a shower, dinner,
and to decompress and try to process everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was also terrified of driving in the truck
with a random stranger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I spent the time
I was waiting for the tow truck, as darkness fell, wondering if he would be a
serial killer or a rapist and planning what I should do:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Keep phone in hand, keep passenger side door
unlocked, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I was relieved when
he said he had his fiancé in the truck with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said it would be a little tight but he'd
brought her along to help him stay awake on the drive back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Even though I am introverted, misanthropic,
and sometimes anti-social, I find that I am more capable than most normal
people of making conversation when necessary because I never run out of
questions to ask people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked them
all about their wedding next Saturday—the venue, the food, the cake, the dress,
the music, etc., congratulated them, asked them how they met, about their jobs,
where they're from, what their ambitions are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But it didn't distract the driver from ranting the whole way (and we got
caught in two construction-related traffic jams, one in Waterbury, one in
Hartford) about how he hadn't wanted to take this fucking job, he'd told his
boss no, this was a huge pain in the ass, he didn't want to make this long fucking
drive, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I curse like a sailor, but I
sound like a nun compared to this guy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">To top it off, any extra mileage above 100
miles has to be paid directly to the towing company and he would only take
cash.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't usually carry cash because
I am broke and live off my credit cards, and he said we'd have to stop at an
ATM, he could not take credit cards or a cheque.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't use ATMs because I refuse to pay
their fees; I only get cash back at stores that offer it, all of which were
closed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't want to
pay for extra mileage to have him drive to a bank but we figured the petrol
station right near my house would have an ATM machine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It did, but it had a $3 fee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To add insult to injury, the driver refused
to give me change, and the ATM only dispensed twenties, so I had to pay more
than I owed for the 12 miles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">It was midnight when I got home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was hoping to ride my bike into town for my
usual brunch to cheer myself up (although my face might cause some weird
looks), but it has poured rain all day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I'll have to call AAA to tow my car to my mechanic on Monday—they could
have towed it straight there last night but the guy would not have given me a
ride home—and see if they can repair it in time for me to get to a job
interview on Tuesday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made a total of
$400 in July—freelancing is pretty dead over the summer—so I will need to
charge this repair, although I vowed not to use my credit cards anymore and pay
off the $34K I owe on them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right now, I
am feeling like that is a hopeless goal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">So, that was testicles and back to
tires.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The testicles post I intended to
write was about agonizing over the decision whether to geld Silas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I now feel like this post has gotten too
long and I will save it for another day.</span> </div>
Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5711149105485383861.post-55816058201542575142017-07-31T15:22:00.000-04:002017-08-01T18:40:38.282-04:00Harry Potter and the Escape from Reality<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzM9whpe2BOggdk4rSJGLHhdXXee1ozDsA81LaiGsftOP_NRa1bVIWCrljyjrm0hjpHABduOTl_0noWobzBsoRZezLM_-vSTePpV9_3JYFbAq7JZfnExvOZot2SZ4kII582IwSLUS-4iY/s1600/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="209" data-original-width="500" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzM9whpe2BOggdk4rSJGLHhdXXee1ozDsA81LaiGsftOP_NRa1bVIWCrljyjrm0hjpHABduOTl_0noWobzBsoRZezLM_-vSTePpV9_3JYFbAq7JZfnExvOZot2SZ4kII582IwSLUS-4iY/s320/giphy.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Harry Potter turns 20 this year and 37
today.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">That is, July 31 is the birthday of the
character and, in the book's chronology, he turns 37 in 2017.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's the year of the "19 years
later" epilogue, when his middle child, Albus Severus, goes to Hogwarts
for the first time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">The first book in the series, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone</i>,
was released by Bloomsbury in the UK 20 years ago, in 1997.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Americanized version, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone</i>,
was released the following year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
living in Edinburgh in 1997, spending the chilly days writing in a local café
that I later learned was the same one where JK Rowling had gone to write.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't remember hearing about the book's
release at the time, nor do I recall much of the fanfare around the series when I
moved back to NYC in mid-2000.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">The first movie was released in the autumn
of 2001, and that is when my own journey from platform 9 ¾ begins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My best friend (let's call her IKEA Girl,
because she is Swedish and it will annoy her) had urged me to read Harry Potter,
insisting that it would appeal to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But I'm neither a joiner nor a bandwagon jumper-on, and certainly not a
fan girl in any sphere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I maintained
stubbornly that if anything was really popular, it must cater to the lowest
common denominator, that it was self-evidently simplistic, low-brow, and
beneath my attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gravitated more
to art house films than blockbusters, to classical music rather than top 40
hits, and to Booker Prize-winning literary novels rather than airport pulp
fiction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In other words, I just couldn't
imagine that Harry Potter could be so popular and be any good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Needless to say, that was about as accurate
as Fudge insisting that Voldemort wasn't back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">When IKEA Girl came to NYC for a visit in
late 2001, we went to see the first film, which had recently been released.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had no problem with that—I was intrigued
enough by her insistence that I would like it to be curious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Country Boy was less than enthusiastic about seeing
a children's fantasy film but he came along as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn't emerge with any desire to delve
into the Potterverse, and IKEA Girl was disappointed, going on about how the
film wasn't as good as the book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me,
well, I was smitten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember the exact
moment it happened:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the scene
when the first year students are crossing the lake and they (we) get their
(our) first glimpse of Hogwarts castle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My heart was aching; I've rarely been so moved by a scene in a
film.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mind was racing:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was me; I belonged in that world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aesthetically, it was a perfect fit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How quickly could I get the books?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoFmf5D3mcZUq6Y9R16-vz7koWvVqUy19WYiPu551ut62IaEXjJvp31yIs77sGsxm3SWAHeVg2We5_15DTtoQxi-djfDvplUmMTl7gehU9KpJ2XR7gJeIhrqDTQQIFkxwwzXKnIx-ShbE/s1600/hogwarts_boats_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="476" data-original-width="640" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoFmf5D3mcZUq6Y9R16-vz7koWvVqUy19WYiPu551ut62IaEXjJvp31yIs77sGsxm3SWAHeVg2We5_15DTtoQxi-djfDvplUmMTl7gehU9KpJ2XR7gJeIhrqDTQQIFkxwwzXKnIx-ShbE/s400/hogwarts_boats_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">By that point, the first four books had
been released, and I immediately ordered them as a boxed set from Amazon
UK.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn't just run out and buy them
locally because I insisted on reading the British versions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On Xmas Day, Country Boy, my partner for over
seven years, left me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to deal with
the holidays, as well as the emotional fallout, and the abrupt doubling of my
living expenses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was rough, to say
the least.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then the books arrived.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I dove in and haven't come up for air
since.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was enchanted (no pun intended)
to discover all of the things in the first book that had been left out or
changed in the film but I was disappointed that I didn't get to experience reading
it without knowing what was going to happen—my own fault, of course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had been attending a weekly Irish trad </span><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">seisiún </span><span lang="EN-GB">at a pub
downtown and, since I could not put down the books, I brought them with
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sat in the pub with my pint of
cider and read in the dim light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got a
lot of strange looks but didn't care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
did nothing else until I had read all four books.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realise I must have gone to work, but I
have no recollection of doing anything but reading non-stop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Then I had to wait two years for the fifth
book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That period was probably the
closest to a hiatus that I have taken from the Potterverse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't know when the next book was going to
come out, and I also moved and started both graduate school and a new
relationship with City Boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those major
life changes provided distractions that got me through the waiting
period.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did search for Potter
information online and found <a href="http://www.the-leaky-cauldron.org/">The
Leaky Cauldron</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the Potter fandom
proliferated on the web, Leaky emerged from the crowd as the go-to site for
news, commentary, and discussion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
developed quasi-official status when, in recognition of its quality and global
popularity, both the UK and U.S. publishers, and Warner Bros., began to give the
site's editors exclusive info, tickets to premieres, and merchandise for
giveaways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The senior editors created a
podcast, <a href="http://www.pottercast.com/">PotterCast</a>, in 2005, that featured
news, discussion, speculation, contests, and interviews with the publishers of
the books, actors from the films, and even JK Rowling herself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rowling recorded the podcast's intro, and even
invited the editors to her house where she, uh, baked them cookies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not even kidding. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rowling also wrote the introduction to the
2008 NYT bestseller <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.harryahistory.com/">Harry: A History</a></i>, a book about the
Harry Potter fandom written by Leaky's webmistress, Melissa Anelli.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Leaky, and PotterCast, kept me going between
book and movie releases, providing a Harry Potter fix (Harry is my heroin?).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before the release of each new book or film,
I had a ritual of re-reading the previous books.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the fifth book, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix</i>, came out in 2003, I
pre-ordered my copy from Amazon UK.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
there was a catch: The book would be shipped from the UK on the release date,
which was, beginning with the fourth book, simultaneous in the U.S. and UK.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I had to endure everyone around me lining
up for the midnight release parties and getting their book a week ahead of
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next day, going to work in NYC,
I was surrounded on the subway by people with their heads buried in the new
book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made sure to time my re-reading
so that I was still immersed in the previous books right up until my British
version arrived.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I repeated this ritual in 2005 for the
sixth book, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Harry Potter and the
Half-Blood Prince</i>, but my system collapsed in 2007 when the seventh and
final book, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Harry Potter and the Deathly
Hallows</i>, was released.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I doubt it is
going to surprise anyone that I simply could not wait.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I stood in line at the Barnes & Noble
on the UWS and got my American copy at midnight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time the British version arrived, all was well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi39QvUhDMVzWnarUHgQEpNUgW3TPFJ6rR-OUa7uONLdMtIV3Erw9MjwMc3Z9BX4xLNIm4Eify7QsQ_GEso0ZGedbDaiyEgpaSmWT0tzYwEJ5YM3KdOesNWmwPKfrU-Yz-p2UeB5KvyvXc/s1600/28e3ff20136ad1403631cd355aad57f0.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="791" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi39QvUhDMVzWnarUHgQEpNUgW3TPFJ6rR-OUa7uONLdMtIV3Erw9MjwMc3Z9BX4xLNIm4Eify7QsQ_GEso0ZGedbDaiyEgpaSmWT0tzYwEJ5YM3KdOesNWmwPKfrU-Yz-p2UeB5KvyvXc/s400/28e3ff20136ad1403631cd355aad57f0.png" width="400" /></a><span lang="EN-GB">1997-2007: Ten years, seven books. A
generation of children grew up with Harry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But I wasn't a child, nor was I a swoony fan girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To me, the Potterverse was escapism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a place I could visit, through the
books, movies, websites, theories, speculation, dissection, and fan fiction,
whenever I needed comfort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My favourite
books are the odd-numbered ones—1, 3, 5, 7.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I re-read the whole series occasionally but I often pick up those
favourites and skim passages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My main
comfort food is the first book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love
Harry's discovery of the magical world; it plays into every girl's fantasy of finding
out that she is really a princess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Having magical powers would be much better than being a princess, and
going to Hogwarts is literally being whisked away to live in a castle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I've re-read the first four-book set I
bought initially, the only paperbacks as the subsequent new releases were all
hardcovers, so many times the pages are falling out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I appreciate the didactic aspect of the
books, the humour, the classical references, and, naturally, the political
allegory (the anti-fascism of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Phoenix</i>
is perennially relevant) but most of all I just want to immerse myself in the
Potterverse as a form of escapism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I curl
up with the books in the same way I curl up with a bowl of mac'n'cheese or ice
cream or a bubble bath with a glass of wine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They are literary comfort food.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">After the final midnight book release in
2007, the films enabled us to stretch the party out until 2011, when <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Deathly Hallows, Part 2</i> came out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Splitting the final book into two films was
the right choice as there was already too much cut from previous books when
they were stuffed into movie format much like Harry was stuffed into Dudley's
old jumper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The final book, although it
ostensibly resolved everything, had left fans with plenty to discuss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But after the final film was released, the
fandom began to fizzle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some Harry
Potter devotees put the Potterverse behind them, some felt like they
had outgrown it, others moved on to other fandoms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In addition to PotterCast, Leaky had spawned
an annual Harry Potter convention, known as <a href="http://www.leakycon.com/">LeakyCon</a>,
(which is in Dublin this year for a special "19 years later"
celebration that I would attend if I could afford it), and a news site called
LeakyNews.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The con began to branch out
into other fandoms, and the news site spun off from Leaky as a general entertainment
news and pop culture website.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>PotterCast
never formally ceased but the intervals between podcasts grew longer, until
they became almost an annual reunion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Leaky disabled its discussion forum and news shifted to items only
tangentially related to the Potterverse, such as what the films' cast members
were working on now.</span> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdzT0NGPkW8Xul4_4GgK1cFfjzlVPqB_I650NJpalglx-Hp1y5d2PtBqAypD1KSsCxtwDheHikJf3RgnIU77ZTr6vhiQL83cS4aHJmXJUM6qB8Fz3wS3hfGW26iJs7qcdcCbxjbRgVlMI/s1600/Deathday_Party_Pottermore.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="775" data-original-width="1600" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdzT0NGPkW8Xul4_4GgK1cFfjzlVPqB_I650NJpalglx-Hp1y5d2PtBqAypD1KSsCxtwDheHikJf3RgnIU77ZTr6vhiQL83cS4aHJmXJUM6qB8Fz3wS3hfGW26iJs7qcdcCbxjbRgVlMI/s320/Deathday_Party_Pottermore.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">But then Anelli was tapped to advise on a
new official interactive site for the books called <a href="https://www.pottermore.com/">Pottermore</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At last, more Potter!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On Pottermore, you felt like you were really heading
to Hogwarts, shopping in Diagon Alley for your set books and potion ingredients,
and even an owl, cat, or toad if you wanted one, getting chosen by a wand, and
getting sorted into houses, which then competed for points to win the House
Cup.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each chapter featured interactive
scenes, and new nuggets of information provided by Rowling herself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Waiting for the release of each book's
material on Pottermore may not have been quite as compelling as waiting for the
books themselves, but it was engaging and aesthetically pleasing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved it, and was sorry to see it change,
wiping all of the scenes, houses, etc., and replacing them with a news and
opinion format.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would have been ideal
if they could have done both—combining the opportunity to explore the chapters
interactively scene by scene with the commentary that they have since added.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHCiNDcPCV9uIGwkA50_Ao3C4e0sVWVKuNvRgiwPYHCBwBqvGBd2TImfI81F1QHW0w_oyqWNk29DcMSge7qwuUL86e0VAtCQi0Ue1s0eu47gpKzBpcLDOJLMkq22fL1aWJHgU4AHD1jOw/s1600/282043_10150252033819170_1115263_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="540" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHCiNDcPCV9uIGwkA50_Ao3C4e0sVWVKuNvRgiwPYHCBwBqvGBd2TImfI81F1QHW0w_oyqWNk29DcMSge7qwuUL86e0VAtCQi0Ue1s0eu47gpKzBpcLDOJLMkq22fL1aWJHgU4AHD1jOw/s400/282043_10150252033819170_1115263_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gryffindor scarf on lamppost outside cinema, finished whilst <br />
waiting for midnight screening of Deathly Hallows, Part 2</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">My most particular Pottermore thrill was
getting sorted into my house of choice, Gryffindor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My natural house would be Ravenclaw but I badly
wanted to be in Gryffindor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sorting
hat supposedly takes your preferences into account but how would that be
captured in a computer algorithm?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The houses
had to be evenly populated, and more people would likely want to be in
Gryffindor than the other three houses combined.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What Pottermore chose to do was set a
multiple choice test.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your house would be
based on your answers, although presumably it would have to override them at
times to keep the houses balanced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was easy to suss which answer applied to which house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For most questions, my gut answer would have
been the Ravenclaw choice but I deliberately selected the Gryffindor
answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My relief when I got in was out
of proportion, revealing how seriously I took my desire to be in Gryffindor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><a href="https://www.universalorlando.com/web/en/us/universal-orlando-resort/the-wizarding-world-of-harry-potter/hub/index.html">The
Wizarding World of Harry Potter theme park</a> and the <a href="https://www.wbstudiotour.co.uk/">Leavesden Studio tour</a> were—and
remain—real places to go immerse yourself in the Potterverse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is my heart's desire to visit both of
them, if ever I can afford it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was
also a traveling exhibit of costumes and props from the films, which I devoured
when it came to NYC, taking City Girl along as her birthday present, whether
she liked it or not (she did).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">But then things quieted down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rowling went on to write some adult fiction,
which I dutifully read, but there didn't seem to be anything new in the
Potterverse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One day in 2013 I was
listening to one of the knitting podcasts to which I subscribe and heard an
interview with the editor of a major knitting magazine, to which I also
subscribe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I froze when, at the tail end
of the interview, she casually mentioned that she was working on a special
issue devoted to Harry Potter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found
her email address and wrote her an email begging to be involved in any way with
this project.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would have cheerfully
offered my first-born, if necessary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
didn't dare hope for a response but, to my surprise and delight, she invited me
on-board the project.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I recruited City
Girl, who is also a freelance writer and editor, and we both thought it was one of the most
wonderful projects we have ever worked on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was also the beginning of a long and fruitful freelance relationship
with this knitting publisher—I went on to work on other special issues, such as
Downton Abbey and Jane Austen, doing writing, editing, proofreading, and tech
editing of patterns, until the company was sold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still keep in touch with that former
editor, though, and she still loves Harry Potter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">With the advent of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Harry Potter and the Cursed Child</i> play, and the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them</i>
movie franchise, the Potter fandom has risen from its shallow grave like hungry
zombies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>PotterCast, LeakyCon, and The
Leaky Cauldron itself, were given oxygen and revived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In January, Leaky advertised for new
editors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I responded and was immediately
chosen, I assume because I am an editor and writer by profession.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can't describe the thrill of pulling up the
site and <a href="http://www.the-leaky-cauldron.org/2017/07/30/happy-birthday-to-neville-longbottom/">seeing
my name as a byline for posts</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seven
months later, I still feel the same awe and excitement when I log into the
site's back end to compose a new post.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
have many ideas and just need to organise my time to write them—the editor
position is voluntary, so I need to squeeze it in around paying freelance work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I did have a fear that I might be twice the
age of the site's other editors, let alone the target audience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turns out there is a mix—some of them, yeah,
I am old enough to be their biological mother, others are older than me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Years ago, I got a bit frustrated with the
"family friendly" nature of the fan outlets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted something a little more grown-up,
for fans who were adults when the books came out, who don't necessarily have
children, or even like children, where we can swear and talk about sex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would not contain news, but rather
analysis, fan fiction, and discussion from an adult perspective.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realised if I wanted such a site, I would
have to make it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I registered a nifty
domain name (if I do say so myself) and wrote reams of content.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was just one catch: I don't have the
technical skills to make a pretty site, and I didn't want to use the blog
format that free services such as Wordpress or Blogger box you into.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, the site has never launched.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's on a backburner, for when I can either
afford to hire someone to develop the look and feel, or have the time to learn
the necessary skills myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">So, 20 years later, the Potterverse is thriving,
and there are more movies and, if not more books per se, at least more
information about the wizarding world to look forward to in years to come.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span lang="EN-GB">I've yet to absorb the central lesson of
the books, which is to welcome death as a natural part of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm a pretty hardcore atheist, and I don't
want to ever die; I don't want my consciousness to cease.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I understand why Rowling wrote with that
perspective, why it's an existential goal for humans to make peace with death,
but, unlike Dumbledore, I don't expect to achieve that myself even when I am 150.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But other themes in the books resonate with
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On my living room wall, above my
desk, is Dumbledore's line, "It is our choices that show what we truly
are, far more than our abilities."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This is the key to success in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This post is already too long to go into the details, so I'll elaborate
in another post, but suffice to say I have always rested on the laurels of my
abilities, my potential—"books and cleverness".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I've never made an effort at anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But in the real world, just like in the
magical one, it's grit, self-discipline, a work ethic—in other words, things we
do by choice, not innate talent—that determine our success.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I've watched far less gifted students get
much better grades because they worked hard and I made no effort,
scraping by on my wits. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My teachers used
to lament that I wouldn't have to make as much effort as most other students to
do well, that it was baffling how I never even tried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, this quote reminds me daily that my
abilities count for little on their own, that I should make the choice, every
day, to try.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">I am currently re-reading the series, in
honour of the 20<sup>th</sup> anniversary, and I find it just as spellbinding
(sorry) as ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all this
time?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Always.</span> </div>
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Domaknitrixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02400489609251107502noreply@blogger.com0