“What has the sun ever done for you…” Part 2.

Other au natural pick-me-ups for midwest winter time blues:

Ice skating at Campus Martius.  I haven’t actually been ice skating since I was a young girl and my sister told me to always keep my hands in fists to prevent getting my fingers sliced off by other ice skaters in the event that I fall, but enjoying an evening downtown skating under the night sky of this great city just sounds utterly romantic.  I’ll probably still keep my hands in fists just in case.

An evening at the newly-restored Book Cadillac.   The Book Cadillac originally opened in 1924 and was the tallest hotel in the world.  A pinnacle of class in the city, the Book Cadillac welcomed notable guests such as John F. Kennedy, Babe Ruth, and the oh-so-fancy Zsa Zsa Gabor.  The hotel fell on hard times and closed in 1984, but after years of restoration, the Book Cadillac has returned to bring class back to Detroit.  Beautiful, modern, luxurious–it’s everything Detroit is meant to be and will be once again.

“Family Game Night”  One of Tyler’s personal favorites.  Invite friends over for a night of drinks and games.  It’s so simple, but it’s so fun.  I personally like to enjoy a few Seven & Sevens with a rousing game of Apples to Apples.   Mainly for the double-the-pleasure-double-the-fun kind of feel to the combination.

The Planetarium! Okay, if it’s not obvious already, I’m a huge nerd–and places like the planetarium are like nerd heaven to me.   The Friday night shows are the best–mainly because of the rock-n-roll laser show.  It’s like being on drugs without being on drugs!

Oh, which reminds me–drugs.  Again, copious amounts of drugs will really help the winter seem a little sunnier! 

“What has the sun ever done for you…except for sustain life?”

The inevitable rain-and-slate-grey-sky days are upon us in Michigan, and my darling friend who left me her sun lamp when she had plans to move out to Colorado has returned to Michigan and, naturally, has taken the sun lamp back (you’re lucky I love you, T, otherwise I would have claimed to have lost it and built a little nest underneath it for all of winter).

What is Little Miss Midwest to do when all the literal and metaphorical sunshine seems to dissolve more and more into the darkness that now falls astonishingly at the ripe, ol’ time of 5:25 pm?

Here’s what’s on my list of of pick me ups:

• Go to the Detroit Institute of Arts with friends and loved ones.  With the new Monet to Dali exhibit, their countless events such as the Friday Night Live series, and the marvelous Detroit Film Theater, there’s a treasure trove of happysunshineartsyyayyaystuffs.  I’m particularly excited for the Un Chien Andalou &L’Age D’Or showing.  Live piano accompaniment?  Sign me up!
• Up north.  Enough said.  No, I won’t be able to enjoy a leisurely booze cruise on a pontoon boat, but the only thing more beautiful than up north in the summer is up north in the fall.  And a close third to both of those is, obviouly, up north in the winter.  And I’m determined to learn how to ski.  I’ve never skiied (skiid?) before, and now is as good a time as any to learn.
• Battlestar Gallactica.  Holy tofu and macaroni, am I excited for BSG to start back up again in January.  Go ahead, have a good laugh at the fact that I’m a BSG fan.  I, too, was a nonbeliever for many years, but I have seen the light, and it feels so good.  I’m so excited that I’m tempted to watch the entire series from the beginning in preparation.  The Cylons! The vipers! The search for Earth!
• Drugs.  Copious, copious amounts of drugs.  And booze.  Copious, copious amounts of booze.

Ahh…I feel all sunshiney inside already!

Life lesson #558292-A.

Never, never, never take for granted the fortune to have a roof over your head.  The next time you find yourself curled up on your couch with a blanket watching a silly TV show, remember how goddess-darn lucky your snuggly little ass is to have that moment–and to have it often.  Goddess-darn  l u c k y.

A note to the jack ass at Whole Foods (a la Amy’s infamous “letters”).

Jack Ass,

Thanks.  Thanks a lot for interrupting my very pleasant grocery shopping experience at Whole Foods on Sunday afternoon.  Thank you so much for breaking my concentration by talking on your cell phone as loudly as you could as I perused the wide array of salad dressings to choose one that was best for me.

But it wasn’t the fact that you were talking loudly on your cell phone that bothered me, Jack Ass.  It was the absolute jackassery oozing from your mouth that upset me.

When you referred to Barack Obama as a racist, I just thought maybe I misheard you as I picked up a bottle of Paul Newman Balsamic Vinaigrette to check out nutritional information.  It was a little too fatty, like your head.  But when you said, verbatim, “Barack Obama is the second-coming of Hitler,” I heard you loud and clear, unfortunately.

Now, Jack Ass, WTF was THAT all about?  I mean, what in Annie’s Green Goddess Dressing’s name were you pooping out of your mouth just then?

And why in the Honey Mustard were you parading all through Whole Foods pooping more of that kind of jackassery out of your fatty head?

I don’t get it.  I honestly do not get it.

Jack Ass, you’re a Republican.  Clearly.  I get that.  That’s super.  I think it’s great that you have an opinion.  Honestly, I do.  I think it’s fantastic when people educate themselves and form opinions–whether it’s on politics, culture, or, well, salad dressing.  Right on.

But WHY would you say such asinine things in such a showy, awful manner as if you were merely goading all of the health- and earth-conscious types who, before you, were frolicking through the aisles of Whole Foods rather happily?  That’s not having an educated opinion, that’s being a Jack Ass.

Shame on you for polluting the air with your noxious comments.  Shame on you for being so idiotic as to say something so absolutely ridiculous as that out loud. And … just … shame.

And before some anonymous readers post hateful retorts about my “crazy liberal rambling,” let it be known that I am not bashing Republicans or Conservatives, but I am bashing you, Jack Ass, and everyone like you for your inability to be civil.

So thanks for making me feel even happier and prouder to be a liberal who, much to your chagrin, is a registered voter.  I’ve never felt so warm and fuzzy.

Drill, Drill, Drill

Eve Ensler, the American playwright, performer, feminist and activist
best known for “The Vagina Monologues”, wrote the following about
Sarah Palin

Drill, Drill, Drill

I am having Sarah Palin nightmares. I dreamt last night that she was a
member of a club where they rode snowmobiles and wore the claws of
drowned and starved polar bears around their necks. I have a
particular thing for Polar Bears. Maybe it’s their snowy whiteness or
their bigness or the fact that they live in the arctic or that I have
never seen one in person or touched one. Maybe it is the fact that
they live so comfortably on ice. Whatever it is, I need the polar
bears.

I don’t like raging at women. I am a Feminist and have spent my life
trying to build community, help empower women and stop violence
against them. It is hard to write about Sarah Palin. This is why the
Sarah Palin choice was all the more insidious and cynical. The people
who made this choice count on the goodness and solidarity of
Feminists.

But everything Sarah Palin believes in and practices is antithetical
to Feminism which for me is part of one story — connected to saving
the earth, ending racism, empowering women, giving young girls
options, opening our minds, deepening tolerance, and ending violence
and war.

I believe that the McCain/Palin ticket is one of the most dangerous
choices of my lifetime, and should this country choose those
candidates the fall-out may be so great, the destruction so vast in so
many areas that America may never recover. But what is equally
disturbing is the impact that duo would have on the rest of the world.
Unfortunately, this is not a joke. In my lifetime I have seen the
clownish, the inept, the bizarre be elected to the presidency with
regularity.

Sarah Palin does not believe in evolution. I take this as a metaphor.
In her world and the world of Fundamentalists nothing changes or gets
better or evolves. She does not believe in global warming. The melting
of the arctic, the storms that are destroying our cities, the
pollution and rise of cancers, are all part of God’s plan. She is
fighting to take the polar bears off the endangered species list. The
earth, in Palin’s view, is here to be taken and plundered. The wolves
and the bears are here to be shot and plundered. The oil is here to be
taken and plundered. Iraq is here to be taken and plundered. As she
said herself of the Iraqi war, “It was a task from God.”

Sarah Palin does not believe in abortion. She does not believe women
who are raped and incested and ripped open against their will should
have a right to determine whether they have their rapist’s baby or
not.

She obviously does not believe in sex education or birth control. I
imagine her daughter was practicing abstinence and we know how many
babies that makes.

Sarah Palin does not much believe in thinking. From what I gather she
has tried to ban books from the library, has a tendency to dispense
with people who think independently. She cannot tolerate an
environment of ambiguity and difference. This is a woman who could and
might very well be the next president of the United States. She would
govern one of the most diverse populations on the earth.

Sarah believes in guns. She has her own custom Austrian hunting rifle.
She has been known to kill 40 caribou at a clip. She has shot hundreds
of wolves from the air.

Sarah believes in God. That is of course her right, her private right.
But when God and Guns come together in the public sector, when war is
declared in God’s name, when the rights of women are denied in his
name, that is the end of separation of church and state and the
undoing of everything America has ever tried to be.
I write to my sisters. I write because I believe we hold this election
in our hands. This vote is a vote that will determine the future not
just of the U.S., but of the planet. It will determine whether we
create policies to save the earth or make it forever uninhabitable for
humans. It will determine whether we move towards dialogue and
diplomacy in the world or whether we escalate violence through
invasion, undermining and attack. It will determine whether we go for
oil, strip mining, coal burning or invest our money in alternatives
that will free us from dependency and destruction. It will determine
if money gets spent on education and healthcare or whether we build
more and more methods of killing. It will determine whether America is
a free open tolerant society or a closed place of fear, fundamentalism
and aggression.

If the Polar Bears don’t move you to go and do everything in your
power to get Obama elected then consider the chant that filled the
hall after Palin spoke at the RNC, “Drill Drill Drill.” I think of
teeth when I think of drills. I think of rape. I think of destruction.
I think of domination. I think of military exercises that force
mindless repetition, emptying the brain of analysis, doubt, ambiguity
or dissent. I think of pain.

Do we want a future of drilling? More holes in the ozone, in the floor
of the sea, more holes in our thinking, in the trust between nations
and peoples, more holes in the fabric of this precious thing we call
life?

Eve Ensler
September 5, 2008

Atrophy Catastrophe

I used to think in poetry. Literally. For a solid four years of my life, every thought in my head presented itself as a poem. I was always comforted by this–that my life was so artful that I was writing hundreds of poems in my head that I would never remember but, for one fleeting moment, existed.

This seemed right.

My writing muscle, though, has fallen into a state of atrophy. I am not okay with this. It’s been atrophied for some time now, actually. Only growing weaker it seems.  Is there a fitness center for this kind of thing?

Lamenting, I know, doesn’t help strengthen it. Inspiration does. And right now, there’s a serious shortage of that.  I’ll blame global warming and the economy for that, as they seem to be the scapegoat for everything this year.

And now, for a cryptic message that I’m sending to the world for no other reason to get it out into the world:

Dear World,

Wish me luck, and send me good thoughts. Please and thank you.

Love,

Me

Mumblings from Gate K15 at O’Hare Airport.

I’ve been awake since 4:22am today in order to fly out to Chicago for the day.  If you didn’t know, it’s dark at 4:22am.  It’s straight-up nighttime.  And it’s unnatural to be awake at the hour.

And nonetheless, I was awake that hour.  A lot of people were, really.  Wild, isn’t it?

Some other people unnaturally awake in the middle of the night include:

• The attendant at the 7-11 near my house where I stopped to get cash, gum, and a Vitamin Water (despite the fact that I want to boycott Vitamin Water–why must it be so delicious!?).

The attendant thought I had been up late the night before partying.  I was mildly offended by this, only because I had showered, put on make up, and (attempted) to dress for success for my day in Chicago mere minutes before I walked in to the store.  I thought to myself–my goddess! Do I look like a cheap piece of trash who just had a rough night?!

I decided he might have just wanted to peg me for a “bad girl” (you know, because “bad girls” are usually at 7-11 at 5am on a Tuesday), especially since he looked utterly disappointed when I said “I’m going to Chicago for business” (words that still sound entirely odd coming out of my mouth). I would have been disappointed in that fact, too, if I were him.  But I’m not.  Thankfully.

• The other patron at 7-11 at 5am.

He was shocked to see me, really.  As if he frequented that 7-11 at the same exact day and time every week and never once saw another soul in there until me at that very moment.  I can understand how this could be jolting.

• Random folks on Southfield Freeway.

There were definitely people driving–hurriedly, soberly–at this ungodly hour.  I can only assume they were either 7-11 attendants or doctors.

• Bruce, the Yellow Economy Lot Shuttle Driver

I was a sight for sore, tired eyes to Bruce.  I was barely out the door of my car before his shuttle was next to me with doors wide open.  I was thankful for this, because the last thing I wanted to do was try to hail a shuttle at the Yellow Economy Lot in the black of morning.  He said I could sit in the front seat.  What a pal.  We chatted about how I was tired, how he was tired, and how it’s unnatural to be up at that hour (are you catching the theme of this post?).  He went to sleep at 5pm the night before and was up at 3am this morning.

“I had more than enough sleep,” he said, “But I’m still tired.”  I told him you can never have enough sleep, and when I asked what it’s like to keep such awful hours, he said “I’m not missing much between the hours of 5pm and 3am–I don’t mind.”  I still can’t decide if I agree or disagree with him on that.

In the past 96 hours, I:

• Played Baggo. Poorly.
• Swam in a friend’s backyard pool between shots of whiskey.
• Talked shit (not that I’m proud).
• Earned approximately 13 mosquito bites, two of which are in unmentionable locations.
• Pulled weeds after a storm / muddied my gardening gloves.
• Smiled at approximately 20 strangers/passersby.
• Cried.
• Scrubbed a toilet.
• Ate three burritos (2 frozen, one fresh).
• Read poetry under a tree in my backyard.
• Jogged to new music from an old friend.
• Relished in every succulent bite of two peaches and four plums.
• Mowed the lawn (I can’t stop talking about it).
• Missed everyone I’ve ever known.
• Hugged and kissed my parents.
• Played in a Euchre tournament (and got Euchred twice).
• Wrote three thoughtful emails.
• Watched two movies (I’m Not There and Batman Begins) / Wanted to be Cate Blanchett
• Used three band-aids.
• Ran on empty for far too long.
• Got soap in my eyes.

This is making me happy today–if not for the pyrotechnics and the music, than for the amazingly inspirational dancing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IcgfdtkcIW0

The government doesn’t want me to embed this, so the link will have to do.

Holly should likely receive a Nobel Peace Prize.

You know that someecard that says “It feels like a Tuesday”? If you do, then you undoubtedly laughed when you read it because you know how atrocious Tuesdays can be: it’s the day after Monday that is worse than Monday (who knew it was possible), because it’s as far away from the weekend as you can possible be (at least Monday was preceded by a weekend day…lucky bastard).

Well today’s Tuesday. And today, I definitely had a bad case of the Tuesdaybooday. There was really only one cure for this: Holly’s home cookin’.

Now, for those of you who aren’t lucky enough to know Holly, she’s pretty much the greatest woman to over walk the earth, and she’s an A M A Z I N G chef. Incredible, even. And if you mix Holly’s food with a little bit (or a lot bit) of wine, you have the perfect antidote to Tuesdaybooday.

I, unfortunately, am not lucky enough to live in Denver to have Holly feed me directly, but she is graciously penning her own Bible of food goodliness with a blog of her own. So this evening, Tyler and I made Lettuce Wraps a la H-pants (as seen on her blog!).

Now, I’ve never had much luck with tempeh, but my goddess, were these delicious. And really simple to make, too. It smelled amazing, looked beautiful, and tasted divine. Just like Holly (oohhhh snap!)! We even went so far as to grill up some teriyaki-infused tofu, veggies and some scrumptchiliadumpcious corn on the cob.

I’m completely healed of my affliction now, thanks to Holly and a bottle of Yellowtail. So Holls, what’s your cure for Wednesdaysuckday?