More designs on the way!!!
http://www.etsy.com/shop/BirdBallandChain
Friday, September 6, 2013
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Cooking Is Freedom
Cooking Is Freedom
By JIM SOLLISCH
In 1972, I was hungry. Very hungry. After all, I was a 14-year-old boy. I played sports and was constantly working out. I could eat every hour. My mother packed my lunch in a grocery bag.
I was into eating and sports, but there were other manly pursuits I wanted nothing to do with. For example, I had no interest in tools. I could build a sandwich but not a birdhouse. Or a beer-can lamp. Which is exactly what I would be doing in shop class, which all boys had to take in ninth grade at my junior high school.
Girls took home economics. Boys took shop. Girls learned to cook lasagna and bake chocolate cake. I would be learning to use a lathe. I preferred lasagna. So I did the sensible thing: I signed up for home economics.
The school counselor called me into her office to tell me that boys weren’t allowed to take home ec. I asked to see her boss, the vice principal. Same story. “Well,” I announced, “we have a problem because I’m not taking shop. These rules are discriminatory.” This was 1972; discrimination was everywhere you looked. If you weren’t protesting something, what were you doing? My parents wrote a letter expressing their support for my decision.
My mother was called to school. The problem, it turned out, was that shop and home ec were same-sex classes, and they were worried that a boy would be disruptive in an all-girls class. As much as I wanted to be in an all-girls class — I liked girls as much as lasagna — I saw an opening.
The next day I circulated a petition at school, demanding that the administration establish an all-boys home ec class for the undersigned: some two dozen hungry males whose parents were willing to let them out of shop to learn to cook.
The democratic process worked, the administration backed down, and within a few days, we boys began our experiment in domesticity. It’s true that we spent most of our time throwing hot, wet spaghetti at one another and eating so much raw muffin batter that our muffins came out stunted, but in spite of ourselves we witnessed magic: onions sweetened by fire and flour transformed by yeast.
So began my love affair with cooking. I was given the keys to the castle, the ability to satisfy my largest appetite. It was like the power some kids feel when they get a driver’s license. If I was hungry (and I was), I didn’t have to beg my mother to cook me something or settle for pretzels or chips. I could make spaghetti or meatloaf. I was the master of my domain.
JooHee Yoon
In college, I might have been the only guy to ever use the dorm stove. I sold my meal tickets and cooked almost every night. I started with chili and burgers and soon graduated to making hummus and curried chicken. Along the way, I asked the cook at the local vegetarian restaurant for her blue cheese dressing recipe. It called for two cloves of garlic. I bought two bulbs. When I separated the sections, they were all different sizes. I concluded that if a recipe called for two of something, then those somethings must be pretty uniform in size. The bulbs were uniform, and so I proceeded to blend in about 45 cloves of garlic. Lesson learned.
By the time I was dating Rique, the woman who would become my wife, I knew my way around several cuisines and had a drawer full of spices. I invited her over for dinner and was in the process of roasting fragrant Indian seeds — cumin, coriander, fennel, black mustard — when she walked in. I ground them with a mortar and pestle and let her take a whiff. She was mine.
What started for me as an act of civil disobedience back in the ninth grade became a lifelong habit. I cook every day. I cook because I love to eat. And I want control. I don’t want someone else choosing the flavors and textures of my dinner. I cook; therefore, I am.
Michael Pollan, in his book “Cooked: A Natural History of Transformation,” suggests that cooking at home is the best way to combat the obesity epidemic. Most of us don’t make French fries at home, for example. And how often does a home cook reach for a jug of corn syrup, a common — and fattening — ingredient in so many processed foods?
Mr. Pollan also proposes that we spend more time in school teaching boys and girls to cook in home economics classes, which are rarely required courses anymore. I couldn’t agree more.
But in the end, health is just a byproduct of learning to cook. You could argue that cooking is the activity that most defines us as humans. Dolphins have a language; crows can create tools. But only humans can cook. By cooking, we transform the mundane into something sacred. And then we share it with others. Food is the most shareable currency we have. You probably don’t pass out money to your friends, but you can pass the paella. But first you have to know how to make it.
Jim Sollisch is a creative director at Marcus Thomas Advertising.
Monday, September 2, 2013
Naughty Naughty Austerity
Just a gentle reminder....September 30th our country goes into government shutdown. Republicans are resisting any new spending bills which would qualify more tax funds for Obamacare. If Obamacare spending plans are not cut the government will go into shutdown.
(This is the same Obamacare that Obama, his family and all of Congress is exempt from. Because it's going to be just that good. )
I hope the Syrian conflict is resolved by that time. Because the immediate cut of 20 billion dollars to our military due to a government shutdown might harm our armed service personnel. It just might.
I may not agree with any military action in Syria (aw hail No), but dang it if they're going to serve they better have a hot meal on the battlefield. (Unlike our military in Afghanistan).
http://www.mrconservative.com/2013/05/18173-obama-cuts-hot-food-for-soldiers-in-afghanistan/
It's a chess match. Could this be a good rationale for our nation to engage in sectarian violence in the Middle East?
Is our President dangling our military as a pawn for the Republicans to spend more on Obamacare? Is our President paying for Syria with a check our country---our military---cannot cash?
http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/plum-line/wp/2013/08/19/dems-have-an-ace-in-the-hole-in-coming-battle/
Greg Sargent, Washington Post, August 19, 2013:
(This is the same Obamacare that Obama, his family and all of Congress is exempt from. Because it's going to be just that good. )
I hope the Syrian conflict is resolved by that time. Because the immediate cut of 20 billion dollars to our military due to a government shutdown might harm our armed service personnel. It just might.
I may not agree with any military action in Syria (aw hail No), but dang it if they're going to serve they better have a hot meal on the battlefield. (Unlike our military in Afghanistan).
http://www.mrconservative.com/2013/05/18173-obama-cuts-hot-food-for-soldiers-in-afghanistan/
It's a chess match. Could this be a good rationale for our nation to engage in sectarian violence in the Middle East?
Is our President dangling our military as a pawn for the Republicans to spend more on Obamacare? Is our President paying for Syria with a check our country---our military---cannot cash?
http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/plum-line/wp/2013/08/19/dems-have-an-ace-in-the-hole-in-coming-battle/
Greg Sargent, Washington Post, August 19, 2013:
Congressman Van Hollen gets in touch to explain the added $20 billion in cuts to defense further.
“Earlier this year, changes were made that gave defense some preferential treatment under the sequester, and therefore cushioned the 2013 cut to defense,” Van Hollen says. “That beneficial treatment does not apply in fiscal year 2014. In fact, under current law, defense will go back to being treated the same as non-defense. Because defense will not receive that preferential treatment in 2014, it will face an additional $20 billion cut compared to this year. The cut will be $20 billion more next year.”
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Letter to IM
Facebook never ceases to shock:
Oh IM. Really?
So just to clarify since you 'liked' Tina's last comment, you think it's okay for your friends to call you 'my n*gga'? Because you did refriend me after all. And you continue to 'refriend' me time and again even though I seem to hit on every last nerve of your liberal ideology.
Which is okay.
It's okaaayyyyy.
We have a shared love of New Wave music and shared memories from high school.
Plus we also love little fluffy kittens and furry puppies.
But your 'Like' on this comment leaves me a bit ferbimmled.
Just trying to maneuver around this minefield of political correctness.
I'll be honest. I'm a teensy bit uncomfortable with that type of language.... so if it's okay, Ill refrain from that type of language. But maybe we just need to be BETTER friends.
......No, pretty much not going to use it then, either.
This makes things just so hard!
Particularly since the last time I saw someone called that the boy ended up with a tray of paint in his face. It was Jefferson Elementary School and the boy got offended. He has that right.
(Yay for public schools in the 1970s!!! )
Just wondering if the tides have turned so much in the world.
Since you are a 'progressive Democrat woman of color' can you guide me through the proper usage of that word?
Because apparently I am behind the 'cool curve' here.
(Clasping hands in anticipation!)
Can't wait to hear what other words are okay. Like 'bitch' or 'ho' or 'slut' or 'whore'.
I kind of like 'whore', actually.
My whores. Like 'my n*ggas'. But no. Because you're not my whore.
I'm not sleeping with you.
So that won't work either.
I don't like 'my n*gga'. If I were to use any term of endearment, it would probably be 'my houseslave', since those were the prettier women with the more pleasant demeanors. They were the ones the Massa wanted around to look at. The 'n*ggas' were the ones in the fields away from the plantation owners and their families.
But the houseslaves!
Those would have been the ones to tighten up my corsets or turn down my bedsheets (hey I saw 'Gone with the Wind').
So no, I will never ever call you 'my nigga' and no, I'll never ever call you 'my houseslave', either.
Being friends with Liberals is so complicated!
Is her permission to refer to her as a word -which I'd grown up believing to be hate-filled- an implicit 'okay' from all women and men of color?
Is there different standards of conduct given to different groups of people? Should we feel more comfortable with the usage of those words with only SOME people, but not others? How do we maneuver through which ones are appropriate?
'My n*gga' to my best friend: Okay?
'My n*gga' to my President: Not Okay?
It gets confusing for us white folk.
So many different lessons we're taught growing up.
In the 1970's there was a series of Mattel dolls called the "American History Collection". I remember going to PayLess Drug with my Mom one evening after school. The toy aisle was close to the fabric section where my Mom was perusing the bolts of fabric for some new sewing project.
I stood in the toy aisle and held on to the Civil War plantation doll for a long long while. I was admiring her tilted cartwheel hat, her coppery ringlets and the tiered dress of her surprisingly authentic costume.
Mom came to find me and I announced that I'd found a doll that was like the characters on that miniseries we were watching, 'Roots'.
(BTW, great cross-marketing schedule there, Mattel! Tying in a new doll introduction with a major network mini-series! Brill!)
I said, I'd really like to get her.
Mom said, 'You know, that wasn't the greatest time in our nation's history. People owned slaves. That woman may have been the daughter of a plantation owner. It's not a time period we should really be proud of. I'm not going to buy it for you. '
I said 'I wouldn't be mean to my slaves. I'd be a NICE Master! I wouldn't beat them!'
Mom turned her back and started walking away.
'No one should even joke about owning slaves. It's not funny and it wasn't right then and it wouldn't be right now. No one has the right to 'own' another human being.'
35 years later those instances and experiences defined who I am today.
I have a dream
that my children will never use words like 'my n*gga' as a term of endearment to their friends. Regardless of their skin color.
History doesn't change.
keep taking money away from education, year after year, then call what's left inadequate and not worth it... yep... perfect logic. <sarcasm intended>
"my nigg", "my bro", "my friend", "BFF"... take your pick... there are many more to choose from...
"my nigg", "my bro", "my friend", "BFF"... take your pick... there are many more to choose from...
Oh IM. Really?
So just to clarify since you 'liked' Tina's last comment, you think it's okay for your friends to call you 'my n*gga'? Because you did refriend me after all. And you continue to 'refriend' me time and again even though I seem to hit on every last nerve of your liberal ideology.
Which is okay.
It's okaaayyyyy.
We have a shared love of New Wave music and shared memories from high school.
Plus we also love little fluffy kittens and furry puppies.
But your 'Like' on this comment leaves me a bit ferbimmled.
Just trying to maneuver around this minefield of political correctness.
I'll be honest. I'm a teensy bit uncomfortable with that type of language.... so if it's okay, Ill refrain from that type of language. But maybe we just need to be BETTER friends.
......No, pretty much not going to use it then, either.
This makes things just so hard!
Particularly since the last time I saw someone called that the boy ended up with a tray of paint in his face. It was Jefferson Elementary School and the boy got offended. He has that right.
(Yay for public schools in the 1970s!!! )
Just wondering if the tides have turned so much in the world.
Since you are a 'progressive Democrat woman of color' can you guide me through the proper usage of that word?
Because apparently I am behind the 'cool curve' here.
(Clasping hands in anticipation!)
Can't wait to hear what other words are okay. Like 'bitch' or 'ho' or 'slut' or 'whore'.
I kind of like 'whore', actually.
My whores. Like 'my n*ggas'. But no. Because you're not my whore.
I'm not sleeping with you.
So that won't work either.
I don't like 'my n*gga'. If I were to use any term of endearment, it would probably be 'my houseslave', since those were the prettier women with the more pleasant demeanors. They were the ones the Massa wanted around to look at. The 'n*ggas' were the ones in the fields away from the plantation owners and their families.
But the houseslaves!
Those would have been the ones to tighten up my corsets or turn down my bedsheets (hey I saw 'Gone with the Wind').
So no, I will never ever call you 'my nigga' and no, I'll never ever call you 'my houseslave', either.
Being friends with Liberals is so complicated!
Is her permission to refer to her as a word -which I'd grown up believing to be hate-filled- an implicit 'okay' from all women and men of color?
Is there different standards of conduct given to different groups of people? Should we feel more comfortable with the usage of those words with only SOME people, but not others? How do we maneuver through which ones are appropriate?
'My n*gga' to my best friend: Okay?
'My n*gga' to my President: Not Okay?
It gets confusing for us white folk.
So many different lessons we're taught growing up.
In the 1970's there was a series of Mattel dolls called the "American History Collection". I remember going to PayLess Drug with my Mom one evening after school. The toy aisle was close to the fabric section where my Mom was perusing the bolts of fabric for some new sewing project.
I stood in the toy aisle and held on to the Civil War plantation doll for a long long while. I was admiring her tilted cartwheel hat, her coppery ringlets and the tiered dress of her surprisingly authentic costume.
Mom came to find me and I announced that I'd found a doll that was like the characters on that miniseries we were watching, 'Roots'.
(BTW, great cross-marketing schedule there, Mattel! Tying in a new doll introduction with a major network mini-series! Brill!)
I said, I'd really like to get her.
Mom said, 'You know, that wasn't the greatest time in our nation's history. People owned slaves. That woman may have been the daughter of a plantation owner. It's not a time period we should really be proud of. I'm not going to buy it for you. '
I said 'I wouldn't be mean to my slaves. I'd be a NICE Master! I wouldn't beat them!'
Mom turned her back and started walking away.
'No one should even joke about owning slaves. It's not funny and it wasn't right then and it wouldn't be right now. No one has the right to 'own' another human being.'
35 years later those instances and experiences defined who I am today.
I have a dream
that my children will never use words like 'my n*gga' as a term of endearment to their friends. Regardless of their skin color.
History doesn't change.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Mommyrant on MLK Day
I have a dream:
That our nation's President would not identify himself as a relative to a teenage gang member.
That our nation's President would identify with an Australian native gunned down in gang violence.
That our President's largest political donors would not have made their money by selling drugs and making rap music that promotes misogyny, rape, gang violence, gun violence and racism.
That our President's largest political donors would not make money by using words like "Nigger" in their song lyrics.
That our President's social programs would not continue to enslave our downtrodden and underserved.
That our President's international policies would not continue to enslave our nation to Middle Eastern vagaries and Middle Eastern oil.
That our President's treatment of our white Ambassador and our white servicemen killed in Libya would garner a moment's notice---but the death of a black teenaged gang member would not made the nightly news for months in a row.
That our President's response to the death of a 88 year old white man WWII veteran killed by black man in Washington would not be silence.
That the legacy of our first 'black' President would be one of skyrocketing debt, drone strikes, major metropolitan areas being abandoned, the exclusion of his family and our federal elected officials from his nationalized social medicine program and the spying on and bigotry against some of our country's own citizens.
I have a dream.
Go on, President Obama, go to the Monument and make today all about you.
This was not Martin Luther King Jr's Dream.
This would have been his nightmare.
That our nation's President would not identify himself as a relative to a teenage gang member.
That our nation's President would identify with an Australian native gunned down in gang violence.
That our President's largest political donors would not have made their money by selling drugs and making rap music that promotes misogyny, rape, gang violence, gun violence and racism.
That our President's largest political donors would not make money by using words like "Nigger" in their song lyrics.
That our President's social programs would not continue to enslave our downtrodden and underserved.
That our President's international policies would not continue to enslave our nation to Middle Eastern vagaries and Middle Eastern oil.
That our President's treatment of our white Ambassador and our white servicemen killed in Libya would garner a moment's notice---but the death of a black teenaged gang member would not made the nightly news for months in a row.
That our President's response to the death of a 88 year old white man WWII veteran killed by black man in Washington would not be silence.
That the legacy of our first 'black' President would be one of skyrocketing debt, drone strikes, major metropolitan areas being abandoned, the exclusion of his family and our federal elected officials from his nationalized social medicine program and the spying on and bigotry against some of our country's own citizens.
I have a dream.
Go on, President Obama, go to the Monument and make today all about you.
This was not Martin Luther King Jr's Dream.
This would have been his nightmare.
Monday, August 26, 2013
Not a TS Fan
I'm sorry
I couldn't help but think about this when I saw the picture of Taylor Swift and Bruno Mars.
I couldn't help but think about this when I saw the picture of Taylor Swift and Bruno Mars.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Holly Homemaker Tip #9,360
Tip:
When a Loved One chooses not to cover the food they are reheating in the microwave, therefore leaving you a crusted-over impregnated mess into your oven interior do the following:
Pour a cup of vinegar (any old plain kind will do don't waste your yummy balsamic vinegar. This is a disaster not a dressing.) in a microwave-safe glass and heat in the microwave for about 1 min.
Then clean with a papertowel. Foodstuffs swipe right off.
Respond. Not React.
When a Loved One chooses not to cover the food they are reheating in the microwave, therefore leaving you a crusted-over impregnated mess into your oven interior do the following:
Pour a cup of vinegar (any old plain kind will do don't waste your yummy balsamic vinegar. This is a disaster not a dressing.) in a microwave-safe glass and heat in the microwave for about 1 min.
Then clean with a papertowel. Foodstuffs swipe right off.
Respond. Not React.
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