You will think this is funny.
If you do not (Sally) there is no hope left for you.
(btw, i think baby # 2 is the best)
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Yes, yes. It's true that everyone around me did better dealing with the impending zombie apocolypse than i.
I'm sliding between random fluffiness and serious thought. I flee from serious thought when I should not or worse I try to mix the two. (Example to follow)
I first heard about this via News & Notes and then checked it out in Indian Country Today. The Cherokee Nation in Oklahoma has voted to expel a group known as the "Freedmen." Prior to the Civil War the Cherokee owned African slaves. The slaves became citizens of the Cherokee Nation after the war and have held citizenship although they did not have any Cherokee ancestry. (although surely it's not that simple. The lists that were created separated people on with the idea of either/or = either indian or black) The expulsion is being described as an ethnic cleansing of the Cherokee Nation. As you can imagine all the ironies begin to landslide:
"That's why the case has drawn the ire of the entire Congressional Black Caucus, which, in recognition of the shared suffering of Native and African Americans, has been a consistent champion of Indian causes. When Cherokee voters decided to strip the Freedmen of their full membership they were essentially legitimizing the one-drop rule. At the turn of the 19th century, the U.S. government relied on that racist tool, originally used to determine whether people were black or not, in combination with other factors for a census of people living on Native American tribal lands. Those who seemed Cherokee, or Cherokee mixed with white, were placed on a "Cherokee-by-blood" list. Those who seemed black, or Cherokee mixed with black, were generally placed on a "Freedmen" list. Both lists, known as the Dawes Rolls, were used to divest the collective tribe of its land holdings and apportion acreage to individual members — to make way for white settlers to move in and buy up the individual holdings. But spouses of Freedmen did not receive land allotments, while spouses of Cherokee-by-blood did, and land given to Freedmen was made available for sale sooner than Indian land. " from a surprisingly interesting article in time.
As stated above: the landsliding ironies
- the house of representatives is threatening to cut off all federal funds to the tribe because it is violating it's treaty with the us by excluding the freedmen. wow. apparently treaties with indian tribes are important. who knew?
- there's plenty of interest in reparations for descendants of slaves--as long as the reparations aren't coming from the us government.
- the lists being relied upon were created to consolidate white power by damaging the concept of collectivity and community and the lists are, apparently, still quite effective
- Cherokee Freedmen are, again, having to fight for recognition as citizens
- and once again, identity is being legislated into a callous meaninglessness
The most brilliant quote from the above article:
"I refuse to create a sieve through which our grandchildren will fall out," says David Cornsilk, a Cherokee-by-blood who sides with the Freedmen.
It makes me think of this quote by Cherie Moraga (also brilliant) from the Incite conference I went to with Lopie in Chicago
"How do I teach my child the truth about genocide and still teach him to love past the front door?" She talked about feeling her own world get smaller and smaller, her social circles getting more and more narrow. And then she rejected that isolation. The cost of engaging with the larger world, though, is constantly being hit in the face by shit that should have been figured out already (sexism, homophobia, racism and on & on & on)
Who will my daughter be?
Will any of these questions even matter to her?
Will she feel saudi? arab? like a member of my tribe?
I take for granted that she will feel Mexican/Latina/Chicana (especially since I love to call her mi chiquita chicana)
How does this work anyway? Will she tell me that she feels like a mixed blood brown girl? How will our next child (inshallah) change Khubz's raced identity? Will one be la morenita and the other the light one? Will Khubz (or anyone else who comes to us) love the brown girl josie poem? especially when i say, "i am okay being brown, brown girl khubz. all the time brown girl khubz is okay"
Didn't I say I'd be mixing this with frivolity? What's going on around here?
How about this: If I didn't have a fruitblog I would have either a blog anchored by orchids
or bizzaro underwater sea creatures.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Thursday, June 21, 2007
don't worry. . . All fruit is exotic to me--i'm not being weird or orientalist. I will say that there is something about a piece of fruit that travels in lingerie.
Apple + Pear + Jicima
rough, thin skin
We all know it is obnoxious to give unsolicited advice. Instead let me offer the first in an installment I'm calling: iiktwikn
If I Knew Then What I Know Now
- Must have a feature to let me silence it without opening it
- Must not have any menu button also act as a "end call" button causing me to hang up constantly on people
- Must not rely on rebate to be in my price range
- Must not be a piece of shit
- Must not have a creepy red message alert bar reminiscent of Maximillian from the Black Hole
Thanks for tuning in to today's episode of iiktwikn. Stay tuned for upcoming features on carseats, homebuying, flying with a 8 month old, dvd player and nursing bras.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
We are in the market for a new (used) car.
And we are awesome.
(Disclaimer, I am well informed, thank you, and realize that what is about to follow is predicated by enormous amounts of privilege: two-income family, both partners graduating from college, english-speaking, us citizens, thankfully free of major illness in the last 7 years, health insurance and, of course, i am not being battered.)
With all that said I like the think that we put ourselves in a great position. We did. We also had the opportunity to do so (see privilege list above.)
Okay, okay. . . All that is to say that we are lucky and awesome.
Immediately upon deciding to buy me a new car I placed a call to Oune, my brother-in-law. Scully has still not forgiven me. This seemed suspiciously like "rent-a-man" (borrow, really. i love Oune but I'm not about to pay for him) In my defense Oune knows a lot about cars and practically has a side job of buying and selling cars for people. Still. . .
Anyway, a coworker & I went to go look at cars on Monday in the town I work in (let's use the clever, secretive and subtle codename "ToePicker".) So I'm in ToePicker with my coworker and we go look at the dealership and see some great nissan sentras. One is an '05 with no power anything including cruise control. Then we look at a couple '06s with power everything. And a plug in for my ipod. (fruitfemme salivates.) The '06s are stickered at 12,499. This is waaay over our limit.
Let me back up and say that part of what makes us so awesome is that we've done a kick-ass job of saving money in the years leading up to Khubz's birth. We decide to take 5,000 out of our emergency fund (this makes us both sick because it took so long to save but we will at least have some funds left in there in case of disaster.) And we feel like we can carry a loan for 5,000 (this also makes me sick as i am allergic to debt.)
Last weekend we stopped by our friendly credit union and because we are so awesome at paying down our debts and saving money we were approved for a loan at their best rate: 5.9%. I am proud of us for doing so well with our credit rating AND I'm proud of us for going to the credit union before going to the dealer as this improves our bargaining position.
So back to Monday. I say I'll talk with Scully and we set an apt. for Tuesday evening. It seems this car is waaay out of our price so I call to cancel. The very sweet, very young, salseswoman is also very new. Her name is Dulce but handwritten underneath her name is "Candy" because "they worried about people being able to say Dulce." I really want to buy a car from this sistergirl. She says she understands my position and has made that clear to her manager and he wants to see what kind of deal we can work out.
This makes me sick because I am a bad Arab and I suck at bargaining. I don't even bargain at garage sales. So now I'm going to a dealership by myself to meet with a man to talk about money. It makes no sense for Scully to pick up Khubz and drive all the way in to ToePicker for a car we will likely not get.
I am terrified. And I go anyway. (Insert dramatic musical crescendo here)
(Additional disclaimer, if you would like to be in touch with real bravery and courage feel free to learn more about any of these women: fanny lou hamer, amy goodman, malalai joya or Chrystos.)
But on with car-purchasing as act of bravery!
So I go. Because, as Scully reminds me, what are they gonna do? Force me to buy a car?
I go and meet Tom. Nice guy, not smarmy. I'll save the back and forth and just tell you why I'm awesome.
He offers me the '06 at 10,9. I say I'm interested but it's still outside of our price range. He says they can usually shave off some interest and save us some money that way. Great, I say. Our credit union has offered us 5.9%, can you beat that?
He actually laughs out loud and says that 5.9% is a really good rate. I know, I say. This is when we move from the "showroom" to his office.
We talk about warranties, the cost of adding cruise control (to the '05) etc. At one point he pulls up the kelley blue book value online to show me (of the '06). "I am *sold* on that this is a good price and a great car. You don't need to convince me of that. It's just about what is within our financial reality." He stopped with his spiel. There's no place for him to go except down in price. Awesome!
I then thanked them for the info, said I would be talking with my partner but they knew what we were looking for and to give us a call if some other (older) sentras come on the lot. Tom says he'll look at what's coming in the next couple of days. "Or even in the next couple weeks. My car is running fine, we're not in a huge rush. So even if it's in a few weeks, give me a call." :)
The question was asked, does blogging empower women? Sure! So, too, does negotiating for a car. Or, perhaps, the essence of empowerment is women having the tools and the freedom to use their power and their bodies in the way they choose. (Now, this definition would have to apply to all women, lest white women owning women of color be deemed empowering.)
All this is a bit more lofty than where I was going. The point is: I never thought I would feel competent to go and negotiate on a car. I just thought it was something I was not and would never be capable of. Just like I am a really good person but I am not capable of being a physicist and I would not be competent if I were to try. Turns out, I am competent and capable. At least to negotiate on a car. I'll leave physics for another day.
Dulce is going to call me on Thursday. If they can lower it another $1000.oo that's my car. If they can't--it's not my car. And it will be fine. That's what feels empowering.
btw, I did call oune immediately after leaving the dealership.
Not for approval or even reassurance.
Just to brag.
Monday, June 18, 2007
This was a weekend of accomplishments, some admirable, some not.
Khubz attended her first real kiddo birthday party. It was a blast! Cupcakes (thoroughly enjoyed by the mommies--though Khubz benefited from some yummy sweet milk) and a wading pool with just enough water for splashing and staying cool on a sunny day. The birthday boy was fabulous (as we knew he would be.) Even when the fountains shut down accidentally there were no meltdowns, no forlorn wailings--only continued laughs and splashing. The post-party nap was swift. Khubz was asleep before Mama was done clicking the belt on the carseat.
We've also learned a new trick to encourage deep sleep and lengthy naps: cut the airconditioning. This coupled with attending a pool party on a bright sunny day just about had Khubz and the mommies all comatose. In our case, this AC shutoff was involuntary. But it resulted in a two hour nap on Saturday (post bday party) and a three hour nap on Sunday. Amazing.
We all slept in the living room Sunday night because the upstairs was unbearable (the heat) and the basement was treacherous (spiders.) And how did Khubz sleep? Like a medicated child. She fell asleep about 7 before we gave her a bath. High stakes gamblers that we are, we decided to wake her up for the bath (we were all sticky with the slow sweat of the day.) She enjoyed the cool bath, loved the lotion rub down (i think this even outranks nursing as her favorite part of the evening ritual) and then came back downstairs to nurse. She stayed up for about an hour before crashing for the evening.
All in all, bedtime has vastly improved with the introduction of the nightly bath. We also adapted a rule from Mad Max & the Thunderdome. Our more gentle interpretation is something like: Two go up, only one comes down.
Last night Scully came home as I was nursing Khubz to sleep. Khubz was babbling excitedly and I was trying hard not to laugh because I think she's hysterical. I know this is one more take on delaying bedtime, entertaining the mommy, but it's hard to resist, really. I was close to declaring "she just won't fall asleep. we're coming down" when I heard Tina Turner's voice in my head "You think I don't know the law? Wasn't it me who wrote it? And I say that this [mommy] has broken the law. Right or wrong, we had a deal. And the law says: bust a deal and face the wheel!" I didn't know what might be on that wheel (dishes? laundry? going to the gym??). . . so we persevered and it turns out this is the right thing to do anyway. Bedtime is not blissful, don't get me wrong, but I don't stomp away from my screaming child as often as I had been. (Hamdillah)
More good news: Our airconditioner was fixed for under $100! Other top hits on the gratitude list: We were approved for the loan at our credit union at a great rate. We weren't sweating whether or not we would get approved. We have the luxury of time in car shopping and that is a great bargaining position.
I realize I didn't get to the less admirable accomplishments of the weekend but why ruin a post that's in a good mood?
Thursday, June 14, 2007
-barriers to completing my spanish alphabet blog-post sequence: 1
-number of words in spanish that start with the letter ñ: 0
-number of mosquito bites on me from taking an evening walk with Khubz & le mama: 16
- bites that have turned into welts the size of grapefruit: 3
-number of times Scully has suggested said bites may actually be chiggers: 1
-degrees, in Fahrenheit, that my hotel room in hays remained at because the air conditioning in the entire building was out: 87
-number of co-trainers in the same hotel on the same trip who had cool, crispy & well-functioning air conditioning in their rooms: 2
-number of times my car has been back to the mechanic this week for the same problem: 3
-cost, in dollars, we are incurring for the use of a rental: $261
-original cost for the repairs: $289
-cash value of the actual car (when it's working): $1500.oo
-length of time Scully was trapped in the car waiting for the tow truck after leaving the mechanic for the second time: 90 minutes
-heat index on that day: 92 degrees
-number of car thieves jumped at the opportunity upon seeing Scully put the key in the ignition and left the car in the street rather than continue to wait for the tow truck: 0
-number of times Khubz has rejected my latest babyfood adventure of pureed swiss chard: 4
-number of days the pureed figs have been in the freezer but still won't freeze up because they have too much natural sugar and not enough water blended in: 5
-number of times Scully has grimaced at the very idea of a pureed swiss chard and fig paste combo with it's mixed texture of fig seeds, sugary paste, slightly bitter chopped greens and periodic stringy stalks: 147
-number of "Gerber baby pinwheels" Khubz can chow down in a single sitting: 4
-number of creepy, mysterious ingredients in beloved pinwheels that ummKhubz couldn't spell or pronounce: 8
-number of times Khubz has tasted carne: 1
-number of added growth hormones in said carne: 0
-amount of milk, in ounces, that khubz can easily consume at bedtime: 14
-amount of milk, in ounces, that ummKhubz can produce after a 20 minute pumping session: 4 (on a good day)
-number of times in my life i ever recall hearing my name said by my uncle bob: 1
-date of most recent recollection: today, june 14
-number of times i replayed the message while asking, "did he just say 'sending you bigie, BIGIE love!' " 3
-number of hours ago I should have been in bed: at least 1 maybe more.
For the true harpers index junky, check this out.
Are you one of the people who are "uneasy about the systematic, massified cretinization of the major media"?Why, yes. I was just saying to myself yesterday, if only we didn't have to deal with the systematic massified cretinization of the major media.
Well then, Christopher Hitchens has an article for you in Slate. He makes some good points like:
- it is impossible to criticize the media for it's hateful fawning of paris hilton without contributing to the pointless frenzy
- the news media should be ashamed because this is not news
- paris hilton is an additionally juicy target because people love to see the town whore go down in flames since the time of the Scarlet Letter
- the commentary/comedy-tary on paris hilton is chock full of misogyny along the lines of "here's a woman with more money than me and I really wanted to fuck her so bad and she thought she was better than me because she fucked every man but me but hahahahah! She's in jail so, fuck her!"
But those are four measly points in an endless dribble of an editorial. Fuck you, Christopher Hitchens, and you're such a wierdo!
- the "tearful child" you were sick about because she was being taken back to jail is 26. Years, not months.
- the "sobbing, helpless child" you feel so paternalistic towards is apparently enough of an adult woman that you watched the paris hilton pornography show. Even with your dismissal that it "was one of the least erotic such sequences [you] have ever seen" it's a good guess you were still getting off on it.
- actually, a dui is a big deal
- your concern about her privacy would have been much more genuine if you had not just talked about watching a film of her being fucked.
- she has access to billions of dollars and regularly cashes in on her celebrity. the fact that she was not poor to begin with *does* mean she has a meaningful choice about whether or not to sell her privacy to be on "the simple life."
- actually, the treatment she is receiving is qualitatively, quantitatively and morally different than child abuse, child pornography or lynchings. Thanks for minimizing, though.
- and, finally, as completely fucking stupid and embarrassing it is that this is getting coverage in the "news media". . . you, christopher, are not actually being oppressed by it. so fuck off.
What is with my reaction to this article?? I think I am especially annoyed that he seems to be wrapping himself in the mantel of feminism for the sole purpose of feeling superior at the same time that he compares her to a child (albeit a child he wanted to fuck or at least watch.) nice. Also, his use of rape metaphors and rape language all seems crafted only to impress himself. Me, I like direct language: fuck off.
Man, he irritates me.
If you truly are uneasy about the systematic, massified cretinization of the major media, watch this:
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Friday, June 8, 2007
It looks like Dory will live.
I saw it was our mechanic on the caller id & I answered it by asking for the bad news. Not all bad, it seems. An alternator. Uh, okay. $300. Great! I said. And I'm thrilled we don't need to buy a new car because some other numbers are hanging out there.
- $2000.oo to my dentist because sedation, while glorious, is costly. There's more good news to come, too, as I have to go see an endodontist because a root canal I had four years ago wasn't painful enough.
- $500.oo to expedite our passports after the titillating conversation with the clerks about ownership over khubz
- $300.oo in an adjustment for our escrow on our house
- $600.oo for our AC because the cheaper $100 fix poisons the earth (even more) that Khubz will have to live with.
It's been a pricey month.
Since my last top 10 list was met with some dissatisfaction, let me try again:
- I am currently fighting off Panic At the Disco whose song Build God Then We'll Talk is running endlessly through my head
- I had to google "whose" to make sure I was using the correct spelling.
- I am feeling dissatisfied about the ending to the Forsyte Saga. It was horrible. And I take no comfort in all of the change, in the passionate love that was lived and I kept thinking, what would I write about this? What symbol? Family? Money? Touch, maybe. Unfortunately, there's redemption for Soames in the end. Even as I write this I know my mother would not want me to wish for such simplicity as a thoroughly evil Soames. But I do. I hated the ending. And what about June? I sort of thought she was a much more interesting character than Irene. I could vomit on Jon for leaving his mother right after his father died and his foolishness with Fluer whose name I hate. And what about Young Jolyn naming his second son Jolyn right after learning that his other son Jolly/Jolyn had died in more foolishness? And what was the Boer war anyway??
- I have slept most of the day, getting the sedation out of my system with copious amounts of water and plenty of icecream.
- I did try to reread 1984 but it was so dark and I'm having a hard time warding off sadness, lately, strange as that sounds from someone whose (used correctly, thank you) gratitude is endless for having Khubz
- (reflecting on #5) I have a hard time expressing any emotion other than happiness for fear that the universe will think I am ungrateful. I am not ungrateful. I love my daughter and my partner. I am happy every day to wake up with them. I am still sometimes very sad and sometimes quite lonely. I am grateful, though, very, very grateful.
- I like this blog better when it is frivolous so you'll all have to be satisfied with a list of 7.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
10 Weird Things/Habits/Little-Known Facts About Me
10) When eating with a fork the tines must be perfectly even. When sitting down at a restaurant Scully will often hand me her fork so I can inspect both available forks and choose the most suitable one. If the fork is malleable, I'll often straighten the tines out before eating. (and then I am often found stealing the silverware)
9) I discovered I was a lesbian the first time I ate a pomegranate
8) I believe barefootedness is next to godliness (a take on the signs at the rec center in riyadh 'cleanliness is next to godliness')
7) I can deconstruct motherguilt as a very sophisticated genre of misogyny but I haven't been able to rationalize my way out of it.
6) I know one palindrome in spanish : reconocer ( to recognize or acknowledge as in, "quiero reconocer un palindrome" )
5) If I ever get a dog, and it's a hotdog dog, I'll name her Bun. If I get any other kind of dog, I'll name her Tidbit.
4) I love puffer fish, hot dog dogs and bunnies (although not all together) and I frequently name animals I don't yet own and likely never will.
3) My left ear is currently impacted (whaaat?)
2) I believe the itsy bitsy spider to be an all powerful magical chant
1) I believe the universe loves and protects me. Except when I fear her.
I was tagged by rivolta.
Two Shews, it's your turn!
Lots to catch up on. Let's start with my friend Dory. You know her. Teal colored, foreigner, old girl, been around the block and most of the midwest as well. Does not enjoy swimming at all. She's just a bit late in telling me.
Khubz & I came back from iowa on monday. We drove up to iowa (and back down) with my "check engine" light on. (scoff) Takes more than that to scare me off a trip with my only offspring in pouring rain. We got back fine but did make one emergency call to Scully. I asked her to raise the getting to our home/land security alert level to orange because several other alert lights were flickering--namely the emergency brake light (no, I did not have the brake on as we were coasting at 80 mph) and another light which currently escapes me (you can see i was very alarmed) That's fine. Coming back from work the lights stayed on permanently. Bring it on! (uh, okay)
Before I continue, you should know that Scully has become something of a tyrant with her "gentle suggestions" like, let's take turns putting Khubz to bed so the other mommy can go to the gym while she's going to sleep? Grrrr. . . . I finally decided that arguing with Scully was ultimately less energy-consuming than actually going to the gym. So I did. (yea me!)
On the way back I realize that the instrument panel in Dory is dimming. Um, and so are my headlights. Oh, and the power locks stop working but begin making a whirring sound. I have already forsaken the windows for fear that they may roll down and refuse to roll back up. So my headlights are going out and this is quite clear because I can see from the car behind me that my shadow is greater than my headlights.
This is what hazards are for, right? Only if they work! They work sporadically as well. This is where i draw the line. We're taking Dory to our awesome mechanic tomorrow night and my lovely friend is taking me to work tomorrow day so I don't have to risk her on the interstate. And either our mechanic will again work miracles or else we are taking dory to the morgue.
All because we crave another massive monthly payment. We crave it.
There's actually a lot going on in life, none of which I'll post here now (that would be substantive) Instead, time to get my list posted.
Monday, June 4, 2007
First I need to say, that if you want to read the most wonderful, give a womyn shivers & make her cry post. Read this. If you're looking for a "I missed queer family blog out day" randomness, read on. But really. Really. Promise me you'll read this.
Well, blogging for lgbtq families day came & went and what was i doing with my queer family? not blogging. Truth be told, my queer family was not even all together (although I was with my iowa family and that is a queer lot indeed.) As I am in iowa with the girl child while mama is at home working on the garden.
So here are some random stories from the queer family vault:
- "You have to have both biological parents present when applying for a passport for a minor" There is only one biological parent. "There's only one biological parent?" There's only one biological parent. "There's only one biological parent." This little dialogue took place in tx while my daughter and both of her parents were applying for passports. the clerk, god love her, at least have the good sense to only repeat what i said instead of verbalizing what was in her head. We successfully completed our passport applications, by the way.
- "So, has Scully been able to. . . you know. . .do any bonding with the baby?" This dumb question was presented my first week back at work. Um, yeah. Maybe because Scully is Khubz's mother. Have you been able to do any bonding with your baby? Or has your homophobia interfered with that?
- "I guess I can tell you both this now that you're officially discharged from the hospital. I think it's really great when same-sex couples have kids. It's been really wonderful working with you both. You certainly were the favorite family on the maternity ward." It's true that I'm always approval seeking, this was particularly true as we took our brand new-never-yet-been-in-the-sunshine baby out of the hospital. We were her favorite! This lovely nurse helped me into the truck. I love nurses!
- "Tito, go give this cup to your Tia Fruitfemme (insert real name here)" In this latest trip to tx I was referred to as Tia to Scully's nephew. Even more significantly, this was said by Abu Scully. No shit. Very good day. And I think having Khubz has not only given us legitimacy as a family, but also has legitimized Scully & I as a couple. We're no longer reckless feminists living a decadent lesbian lifestyle in the great metropolis where we live. We're mommies. We lose sleep. We get puked on. We're real people now. Of course, this is rife with problematic elements. This mommie=real woman=human. I'm not oblivious.
- "I love to hear you say that: 'my daughter.'" This was a magical statement said by a friend about my magical statement about my magical connection with Khubz. She is magical.
- Ordered way-too-expensive "I love my mommies" shirt for Khubz. First time she wears it she pukes up on it & on this mommie. The mommies clean up the vomit & the girl. Shirt gets thrown into the wash with some darker shirts and gets dingy, faded and tinged all at ones. It is also stained. Hardworking bebe girl. Hardworking shirt. Hardworking mommies. So I guess family is a verb also and queerly.