bonnie

Geek, Local, Places We Go and Things We Do

And the Nerds Descend Upon San Diego, Part the Second

I'm a winner!

Comic Con is crazy-stupid to get tickets to these days. Back in the day we used to just show up that day and buy tickets and then something happened where it exploded in population and all the people on Earth show up to stand in line. Last year we wound up being gifted a free comp ticket that a friend of a friend didn’t need (and kids are free) and I was happy with that. I want to visit other cons now (I actually had plans for both Leaky Con and Gallifrey One this year, but The Universe was all NOPE). Even so, I went ahead and entered to win Comic Con tickets because if the process was free and easy I’d totally go. I never expected to win. BUT I TOTALLY DID. (And I fully realize that I’ve used up all my Comic Con luck for ever and ever now.)

gandalf rides the escalator

I had two tickets to the Con and I wasn’t sure who to give the other one to because most of my friends hate crowds with a passion (I don’t – but the crowds at Comic Con last year did even me in) but when I heard that Rainbow was doing a panel I offered my other ticket to Bethany so she and her daughter could go. (And you know what’s stupid? I forgot to get a picture of all three kids together.)

ecto-1
I don’t know these people. I just know that they are awesome.

Last year we went to the Doctor Who panel. That required waiting in line all morning and we *just* made it in the panel (see? LUCK). So this year we decided that we’d rather do other stuff all day rather than just one thing for most of the day. Besides we’d done the Doctor Who Tumblr Meetup the day before and breathed the same air as Matt Smith and all so we were good there.

ice king

So we didn’t do… much. We walked the floor (and by “walked” I mean “elbowed our way through the masses”), we had lunch with our friends and laughed a lot, we saw awesome cosplay. The kids went to a panel with their dad and I joined Bethany in Rainbow’s panel. We hung out at the Lego booth and took a picture in the Ice King’s jail. We had fun, but at the end of the day I felt underwhelmed.

and then we got sent to jail

And here’s why: I’m not really all that into comics. I know, I know. I feel bad for going to Comic Con when I’m not really into comics, but it’s not my fault that’s where the BBC goes. Ideally they’d plan a second, perhaps linked, con that is for geeky entertainment in general. But unless that happens Comic Con is where I want to be. Only. Most of the panels – the ones that aren’t the huge ones, I mean – are comic book-based. (There were a few for kids we wanted to check out – like how to draw comics – but we missed them due to timing.) So as a con it’s not that interesting to me. I should clarify that I am not in any way anti-comic book. I know they are an intelligent and legitimate art form. I just don’t relate to them as well as I do to books or movies. Maybe someday I’ll find a comic that will change my mind.

THERE'S AN AT-ST

The panels at Gallifrey and Leaky Con sounded really, really interesting to me, but it’s just the E-ticket panels I want to go to at Comic Con. And then I realized: I like Comic Con for it’s Disneyland aspects. I would rather wait in line all day (or night) and see one awesome panel than fight my way through the crowds on the floor for a few free buttons (disclaimer: my kids may or may not disagree with me on the value of free buttons). But other cons – ones that are built around the fandoms I am a part of – I think I’d like for the convention itself.

and then we rested
I’m sorry. I just can’t stop showing off my awesome shoes.

Someday perhaps I’ll buy tickets to Comic Con and sleep in line to see the Doctor again, but I think (unless I get free tickets again!) I will stick to the free outside-the-con events instead. Because, frankly, for one weekend a year, all of downtown is full of magic (and crowds. Don’t forget the crowds).

gaslamp

Giveaway!, This is a Woman

And the winner is…

Wow. Sorry I fell off the face of the planet for a few days. It’s just that last week we drove up to LA and that night Sunset Boulevard tried to pick a fight with my bumper (but my bumper was all nah, man, I’m a lover, not a fighter and we left with only a metaphorical black eye) and then I didn’t sleep that night (because that is how my brain rolls these days) and then the next day we headed home from Sonja’s house but first stopped at a local mechanic who we found on the Car Talk website who fixed my bumper with no wait and for free because they are awesome, and then we had to find a gas station and then we drove home but halfway home my tire pressure light came on so we stopped at ANOTHER mechanic who fixed or maybe “fixed” the issue but then the light kept coming on the whole way home and I read in my car’s manual but it just said to go to a Toyota dealership (way to be helpful, Toyota) and no one could really tell me if I was safe or if we were all going to die a fiery death because my tires all exploded at once or something so we basically just hobbled home taking a break every half hour or so and it took SIX HOURS to drive what normally takes two. So we had damn potatoes for dinner. BUT THE WEEK DIDN’T END THERE. BECAUSE COMIC CON. But I’ve already traumatized you with that massive run-on sentence so I’ll save my second Comic Con post for later. (Not that my Comic Con post will traumatize you. It won’t. I’m pretty sure.) Just know that I’m only now beginning to become human again and I apologize for the delay.

So. The winner is…

Elliott was all, "Why does she have to sign it if she MADE it?"

Elliott was all, “Why does she have to sign it if she MADE it?”

Ais, I’m gonna shoot you an email RIGHT NOW and ask for your mailing address so that I can send you the book.

Thank you to everyone who participated! I am going to look up all your suggestions for female characters and compile them into a post here to share with everyone. Just. You know. In a few days.

Local, Places We Go and Things We Do

And the Nerds Descend Upon San Diego, Part the First

We spent the day in downtown doing the Free Things that you didn’t need a Comic Con badge for like the Doctor Who Tumblr Fan Meetup, and the Regular Show Experience at the New Children’s Museum. Well. Those were really the only two things we did. But they took all day because lines. I’m throwing some pictures at you but that’s all for tonight because tired.

upload
(Yes, I did get some excited squeals over my E&P button.)

we got wristbands!

Dalek ballerina! She wins Comic Con.

No SHE wins Comic Con.

MATT SMITH WAS THEEEERRRRRE

nine, rose, and my kids

Review, This is a Woman

Brave, A Queen’s Story

In my giveaway (that ends today! go enter now!) of a signed copy of Eleanor & Park, I asked what your favorite unconventionally awesome female characters were. I am loving the answers! Some of them I am nodding along with and others I’m writing down to learn more about. Haley brought up Merida from Pixar’s Brave, and so, in honor wild red hair I thought I’d repost the review I’d wrote last summer. This was originally posted over at This is a Woman shortly after the movie was released, but not shortly enough that I actually remembered all the details. (Thank god I’m cute.)

PS. This week has been not only busy but also cumbersome with too much Oedipus Rex and multipletrips to the mechanic. I will try to get to posting some Lady Links for you, but I just can’t promise it. I’m sorry!

******************

Last weekend I took my kids to the drive in to go see Brave. It was fabulous. If I’d been smart, I’d have taken notes. But as it turns out, it didn’t even occur to me that I should write about it here until this past weekend. So we’ll have to make due with my memory of having seen it only once over a week ago in a venue that is somewhat distracting (my kids seem to be allergic to each other and break out in the MOM, S/HE TOUCHED ME’s if they come within six inches of each other. Which. They do. When they’re sitting in the back of a small station wagon).

OK. So. SPOILERS!

The movie is, as you are no doubt aware, the story of a spirited young girl with amazing hair, arguably the best accent on the planet, and amazeballs skillz in archery. She’s strong-willed in all the best ways and takes a stand against centuries-old tradition when it doesn’t suit her and what is best for her own life and personal growth.

Only. That’s not what this movie is about at all.

Well, OK. It is. But the story is more about Merida’s mother, Elinor.

It’s about a woman who grew up and had no qualms with the status quo. She was perfectly happy to grow up and be the queen she was expected to be, to live the life that was planned for her. She had zero desire to ever put her weapons on the table. In fact, she had zero desire even to own weapons of her own at all. She was not in touch with her inner Wild Woman in any sense.

And then she had a daughter who was the absolute embodiment of Wild Woman and who was physically, mentally, and spiritually incapable of being anything else. (We all need to have such people in our lives, whether not not we spring them from our loins.)

The story begins with various arguments between Elinor and Merida over what Merida should and shouldn’t be doing. After begging and begging her mother to hear her, Merida ultimately loses her shit and rides off into the night where she stumbles into a magic circle of stones, not unlike Stonehenge. Her horse refuses to enter the circle, but Merida is in her element here. On the other side of the stones, a path lit by will-o’-the-wisps appears, and she follows it. According to Wikipedia, a will-o’-the-wisp leads you from the safe paths. YES. Safety, in terms of the growth of our psyche is bullshit. Safety is what Elinor’s life has always been about. Safety is the opposite of what Merida lives for. Safety will never guide you forward spiritually or psychologically. Take the unsafe path. Follow the will-o’-the-wisps.

The will-o’-the-wisps lead Merida to a witch. I want to give props here to Pixar for making a witch who isn’t a villain. It is so easy to make witches the bad guys. After all wise women, both in folklore and in real life, have for centuries been made out to be bad witches. It’s so ingrained in us now to consider them bad, that we have largely forgotten that once they were revered. In Brave the witch is the method in which Elinor learns her biggest lesson. Merida begs for help and is granted a cake to serve her mother which will help her to change her mind about Merida’s future. Only, the witch doesn’t say exactly how that change will occur. True wisdom and growth doesn’t come from an outside source changing your mind for you. That is oppression. Elinor lives oppression. She needed something to help her to grow from the inside. And the witch knew that.

So Elinor is changed into a bear.

Merida witnesses this and is horrified at what she’s done. Because she, too, is oppressed, even if it is to a far lesser degree. On a realistic level, she just totally screwed up her mom’s life and possibly caused her death. On a spiritual level, she caused that big change, and that, too, is scary.

They run off into the woods where they try to find the witch again and ask her WTF, but she knows damn well that she has to be gone. She leaves them a cryptic message, telling them they have to fix this on their own. Because if it was simple, no one would have learned anything, and Merida would have been even further ostracized.

In the morning, they find there is no kitchen staff out in the woods to fix them breakfast so here’s where the work begins.

Step 1: Elinor must rely on Merida for her very survival. She doesn’t have the first clue about surviving in the wilderness. But Merida, like Katniss, knows her way around a bow and arrow and so has a very good advantage out in nature.
Step 2: Elinor must learn to feed herself from what nature provides. She is still hungry even after Merida’s hunted breakfast, so Merida takes her to a stream and tells her to catch some fish so she’ll be able to feed herself for a lifetime.

Because how better to find your Wild self, than by being wild?

And then there are some adventures and some mending of a tapestry-family-portrait that I forgot to tell you about earlier (Elinor had been working painstakingly for years probably on this tapestry and Merida sliced it in two, separating herself from her family CORRECTION: Apparently I remembered it wrong, it was Elinor that Merida separated from the family in the tapestry) and some more adventures and time is almost up for Elinor. If she and Merida don’t fix this, like, NOW, she’ll be a bear forever. The whole town is out to get Bear-Elinor, and her own husband is at the forefront. Merida keeps shouting the truth, but no one listens. Suddenly, the actual bad-guy-bear comes in and pins Merida and Mama Bear Elinor takes over and KICKS HIS ASS. It is symbolic of love, of motherhood, of her final test in becoming who she is meant to be. And things are mended and she is herself again. Naked.* Isn’t that exactly what such an amazing growth experience does to us – leaves us totally naked, right in front of everyone? At least in front of the important people.

The story was more about Elinor than Merida. About her transformation, about her growth, about her journey to find her psyche. The story was about Merida, too. She grew in her own way in this movie; she stepped into her role as Wise Woman for the first time.

I hope there are countless more movies like this for our daughters (and sons!) to grow up with. And also for us to learn from.

*Naked in a Pixar/Disney way. She was totally covered. That doesn’t make it less important. Just less porny.

Giveaway!, Just Life, Places We Go and Things We Do

LA Things & Meeting Rainbow

upload

When Rainbow first announced she was going to be in Los Angeles I decided the kids and I would make a day of it and do LA Things before the book signing. We’ve seen the tar pits and the observatory and Hollywood Things before and we will again someday, but this time we decided to go check out Angels Flight, a historic train that carries you uphill for only fifty cents. I’d never even heard of it before seeing this video a couple of months ago, and neither had Annika despite being in that general area on a regular basis. So we met up with her and a couple other friends and a whole mess of kids and we rode the train. And the kids were all GOAL ACCOMPLISHED LET’S RIDE AGAIN. And I was kinda like, HELL YEAH LET’S, but I was mostly like I’M UNPREPARED FOR LIFE IN GENERAL BUT ALSO FOR THIS THING AND I HAVE ZERO CASH SO MY ABILITY TO RIDE THIS IS BASED ENTIRELY ON WHETHER MY FRIENDS HAVE AN EXTRA $1.50 FOR MY FAMILY’S FARE. (I wonder if it’s weird to paypal someone $1.50 to pay them back?)

us. and trash.

So, in between the train ride up and then back down we stopped at this big trashy sculpture and took a group shot. Like you do.

Untitled

The train is mostly indoor seating, but does have one short bench at the top that is outdoors. On the ride up I rode outside there, but the seat was taken so I was standing up. It was… alarming. The ride inside felt like any train ride, but outside – perhaps because I was standing – I felt every little jerk or jostle and the part of the track where the trains pass each other was unnerving to say the least. But, you know me. That’s my kind of thrill. Riding up a totally safe commuter train is basically my version of Six Flags. That’s just how I roll.

Untitled

Directly across from the bottom train stop is Grand Central Market. I assume this is similar to Pike Place Market (although I’m guessing Grand Central is smaller?) but we don’t have something like that here. Yet. We’re working on it, but so far the Public Market is just open once a week for farmer’s markets with the hopes that it will become a full time place in the future.

With homemade almond milk.

Once we were done with our picnic dinner, it was Coffee Time (cause did I mention I was working on 5 hours of sleep? And I had to keep everyone alive for just about that same amount of driving). Right there in the market was G&B Coffee which made me my very first fancy latte. I don’t even know a place here in town that makes foam pretty like this so I was ridiculously excited, but the best part is that it was made with almond milk. And you know what? It was freshly-made almond milk. I can’t do (cow) dairy, and I don’t like to do soy so I get overexcited when a coffee place does almond milk in general, but this was so creamy and light-tasting that I might just drive up there again just for that. I am not even kidding.

rainbow!
It’s out of focus, but damn she’s adorable.

And then we headed over to Book Soup for Rainbow’s book signing. It was so much fun. I’ve known Rainbow online for a couple of years now, but this was the first time I met her in person. We didn’t get much chance to hang out that night because things were very busy but during the reading and Q&A portion of the night she was so much like the Rainbow I know. You know. At a microphone in front of a crowd of people? Well. That is, actually, a little bit like what the internet is like, isn’t it? We’re all in front of our own microphones and crowds there listening to us? So maybe this was my most accurate online-friend meeting ever. She’s going to be in San Diego tomorrow (that’s Friday, right?) so if you have the chance, I highly recommend coming to see her. And don’t forget to enter my giveaway to win her book!

We made t-shirts (design by @secretagentjo) to wear to Rainbow's L.A. signing! ("You're so proud of you!") #latergram
We all wore matching t-shirts because we are cool or dorks or something.

Giveaway!, This is a Woman

Win a signed copy of Eleanor & Park!

This book smells amazing.
This is my copy. Win your own.

I loved Gilmore Girls. For a ton of reasons. But one of them was that they had a character on the show – Sookie – who was overweight and it wasn’t even a thing. Imagine that. A fat person whose weight wasn’t the most important aspect of their character, and who wasn’t weird or overly awkward or stupid or gross. It’s almost like it was just a part of life to be around people of all sizes. Weird, right?

/snarkasm

My friend Rainbow is an author. Recently her second book, Eleanor & Park came out. And there are a lot of things I love about this book – the characters are complex and realistic, the music is fantastic, the storyline is painfully beautiful. You can read John Green’s own review here. I really can’t add anything to it. Except to say that Eleanor, like Sookie, is fat and normal. Her size isn’t the issue in the story. It’s just an aspect of her like her red hair or her freckles or the way she dresses or her insecurity. Rainbow recently wrote this about Eleanor’s size. And if I didn’t love Rainbow already I’d have fallen head over heels for her right that second.

So there are a lot of reasons I love this book, but the main reason that I’m telling you about it here is because we need more stories out there in the world where characters are different in some way and it’s not the main thing about them. We need more fat characters who are just friends and people and not there for their fat hilarity. Fat characters who are funny and sad and full of love and fear and hope and cynicism. Who are not necessarily nice, but who you love with all your heart and you wish you could scoop up into a big hug and a nice, safe life. Who are complex like real people.

I want as many people as possible to read this book. Including you. So I am giving away a signed copy to one reader. Rainbow’s going to be in my neck of the woods this week so I plan to go to a couple of book signings (I may or may not be a groupie) and I’ll have a copy signed for you on Friday, once I know who the winner is.

Deets:
How:
Leave a comment here on this entry! I’d love to hear what other awesome female characters you love in books, movies or TV. Not necessarily fat characters, but someone who doesn’t fit the mold, who stands out as unusual, and who you find inspiring. So leave me a comment here telling me about a character you love, if you have one. If you don’t have one, then you definitely need to read this book so leave a comment either way! Make sure you include a valid email address so I can contact you.

When: Contest will end Friday at noon Pacific time, and I’ll announce the winner as soon as I can after that (bear with me as this is looking to be a very busy week).

What: One person will be chosen at random from the comments and will win a signed copy of Eleanor & Park, and probably some swag from Rainbow’s upcoming new book Fangirl (which I haven’t yet read, but I’m hoping I might get to do a giveaway for as well in the near future).

UPDATE: The giveaway is now OVER. But! Hey guess what! My friend Bethany is ALSO giving away a copy of E&P! Double your chances to win at her blog here.

The Zebra

Why a short attention span makes things more confusing.

I’ve been told I have an incredible memory. I mean, I can’t remember which of my kids did what when, but I can remember all the lyrics to the Royal Canadian Kilted Yaksmen song. (I’m 8 years postpartum now, at what age will pregnancy brain go away?) So while the last decade or so has been a blur, I have fairly vivid memories of my childhood, all the way down to my toddler years. The funny thing about this is that, now that I’m a parent, certain things make way more sense. I don’t know if some of my misunderstandings were due to my short attention span, or if it’s just hard being a kid, but things were damn confusing when I was little.

Instance #1
I was two or just about two when my family moved to Denver for about six months. I have both memories of winter and summer. My mom and I went outside and collected a bucket of snow and huddled on the couch together eating it and watching The Young and the Restless. What? That’s a normal childhood. In the summer I remember having a stand off with my dad about pool safety. He maintained that I sit in a floatie or I don’t get in the pool. I argued that screw that I wanted in the water of my own accordthankyouverymuch. I don’t remember the outcome, but I’m guessing that he probably won.

But there was this one day when there was a rainbow out the back window. We lived on the second or maybe third floor, I don’t know, and one of the back rooms – I guess it was my parents’ bedroom because it was not the room with my changing table – had a window that looked out over the parking lot. I remember being at this window with my dad and him trying to help me find the rainbow. The directions were utterly complex. First I had to look to the left and find the tree, and then I had to look next to the tree. Then I had to find our car and look above it and to the side. Then I had to look at that building in the distance and, finally I was able to find the rainbow. I remember thinking it was such a convoluted path to the rainbow and I was in awe that anyone was ever able to find them.

Happy Thing: DOUBLE RAINBOW ALL THE WAY (probably)
Not the actual rainbow being blogged about. Like we we had the luxury to use film to take frivolous photos of city rainbows back in the dark ages in 1980. Pft.

There came a time with my own children when something similar occurred. I don’t even remember what exactly. But suddenly, 25 years later, it clicked in my brain. The path to the rainbow wasn’t complex, it was that he was trying different tactics to help me find it. Each time I had to look for a landmark was a completely separate attempt, not one long set of instructions.

I’m a little slow. Thank god I’m cute.

Instance #2
When I was in kindergarten we got kittens. They were Siamese and I named them Brother and Sister because they were a brother and sister. (I’m slow and also terrible at naming things.) Before we got all the way home, though, I changed Brother’s name to Booties because he had, you know, booties. (Really. I sucked at naming things.)

what not to do
Not the actual kittens. Not actually even a kitten.

Anyway, with kittens comes a litter box, and with a litter box comes germs. My actual memory is of my mom telling me, “If you touch litter you’ll have to go to the bathroom.” I assumed, naturally, that litter has magical or scientific properties that fill your bladder and make you have to pee right that second. Once, while my mom wasn’t looking, I snuck to the litter box and tested the warning (with clean litter. come on. I wasn’t stupid). AND IT WORKED. I TOTALLY HAD TO PEE RIGHT THAT SECOND.

Psychology is cool.

Years later I finally reasoned that what she probably actually told me was something along the lines of, “Don’t touch the litter box or you’ll have to go to the bathroom and wash your hands.”

I have a reeeeeeeeally short attention span. Like. Shorter than a sentence.

Instance #3
One of these instances is not entirely like the others. Hint: It’s this instance.

After Denver we moved to England. Only for like a couple of weeks (what? that’s normal), but I have memories there as well. I remember my bedroom being all set up with my bedspread and the curtains my grandma had made. I remember riding in a taxi cab and they had these tiny seats just for me that faced backwards and IT WAS THE COOLEST THING EVER. I remember being hungry and wandering alone into a darkened kitchen, opening the refrigerator to a bright portal of light and sustenance, and finding absolutely nothing illuminated except for one head of cauliflower. Which was disgusting. I remember that the car was all backwards with the drivey bits being on the wrong side. Some of these memories are probably more accurate than other memories.

I also remember the basic floorplan of the house. I remember where the kitchen was, I remember the hallway, I remember where the bedrooms were. Here’s my basic memory, omitting those areas I have totally no memory of:

my memories of our house in england

A couple of years ago I was going through my mom’s papers and I found the letter she’d written to family back here describing things. She’d included a map of the house:

my mom's floor plan of our house in england

I see she makes no mention whatsoever of an empty refrigerator. Gross overlook, if you ask me. Of course, one might say that I forgot that there even was a dining room. One might be totally right. One might counter that who cares about dining rooms, especially when the only thing to eat is cauliflower. But otherwise I’m impressed that I so clearly remembered a house I stayed in for so brief a time when I was 2 1/2 years old. Clearly my memory is my superpower. I mean. Unless you want me to tell you things that happened last week.

It’s funny now looking back at my childhood the things that have become clearer now that I’ve had kids. I know that remembering how I saw things helps me sometimes when I parent my kids, and helps me understand where they are coming from, just as much as parenting them helps me click certain facts into place about my own history. My children’s futures help me solve the mysteries of my own past. In these cases just memories of simple events, but I think the statement can be applied broadly to our whole selves as well.

At the very least, it’s a chance to get out the old family photos and reminisce about how cute I was.

potty in the car
Cute and peeing in the back of the car. Like you do.

Lady Links, This is a Woman

Lady Links 7.12

my cat is totally over the patriarchy

~TIAW on Pinterest and Tumblr.
~We’re not fat enablers. We’re new shoe hoarders. OK. Well, it’ll make sense once you read the article.
~MOST AWESOME 12 YEAR OLD.
~How to Live With Anxiety. I agree on basically all the points here. Fantastic article.
~The most incredible selfie I will probably ever see. This woman took photos of herself just after her baby was born. JUST after. Like before birthing the placenta. They are bloody and messy and holy crap they are beautiful. You can translate the page at Google Translate.
~We’ve all seen those images that show us what a woman would have to look like if she had Barbie’s measurements, but I like this project which shows what Barbie would look like if she were an average woman.
~Here’s a pretty incredible article about the archetype of Manic Pixie Dream Girl. It goes into what’s wrong with so much of Story these days, and how we, as women, try to find ourselves in characters. I’m tall and not at all petite and when I was younger I would have done anything to have been a Manic Pixie Dream Girl. But, looking back, maybe it’s better that I didn’t fit that physically. Maybe it’s better I couldn’t find a group to fit into. Cause I found Me instead.
~Dustin Hoffman will make you love him more than you adready do.
~The Beauty Industry would like you to remember how disgusting you are as a human animal and here can they help you with that?

Recipes

I call it… KALE SLAW.

i call it kale-slaw

You know how it is when your kids can’t eat cabbage or mayonnaise and so your life is ruined because that is like the basis of cole slaw? No? Just me?

In any case you might enjoy this alternative. It’s quick, delicious, and good for you.

I hate it when people groan when they hear something is healthy. I’m not talking about your mom’s fat-free, sugar-free, flavor-free cardboard crap. This has sugar, fat, AND flavor. It’s win-win-win. But it’s also got nutrition. Which, I guess, makes it four wins. Win-win-win-win.

Kale Slaw

Dressing:
1 Tbs tahini
1 tsp apple cider vinegar (could sub lemon juice)
1 tsp sugar (or rapadura, honey, whatever)
1 Tbs water (or however much you need for the consistency you want)
salt & paprika to taste

My favorite method is to mix all this in a tupperware-type thingie and then throw the kale (3-4 cups chopped into bite-size pieces) on top, seal the lid tightly and shake the hell out of it. I then put the tupperware directly on the table because I’m classy like that. (Who am I kidding? I’m not even that classy. My table is too small for food presentation.)

I have always served this right away because I am impatient. I would think it would lat a few hours at least, but maybe not overnight or for days the way cabbage cole slaw lasts.

If you try this recipe let me know what you think!

This is a Woman

You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

“You’re the kind of woman that other women hate!”
“I hate you so much!”
“You’re so gorgeous; I hate you!”

What.The.Fuck.

At what point exactly did hating each other become a compliment? How is this a good thing? And what is really so wrong with old-fashioned compliments that don’t drive wedges between ourselves and our friends? Compliments like, “You look great!” I mean. If you’re looking for emphasis you can just add a “really” in there. Let me demonstrate: “You look really great!” More emphasis needed? Add a motherfucking cuss word. “You look really fucking great!” Need a non-bad-word for a church picnic? Try learning some adjectives. Here’s a list:

Alluring
Angelic
Bewitching
Classy
Dazzling
Delightful
Elegant
Exquisite
Graceful
Grand
Lovely
Magnificent
Pulchritudinous
Radiant
Refined
Sublime
Wonderful

Yeah, I said motherfucking pulchritudinous. And you are. And I love you. Which is why we need to stop hating on each other.

I posted this image (via Adios Barbie) on SOAM’s Facebook wall yesterday and proceeded to have the weirdest debate ever about modesty of all things. This particular image isn’t even about modesty. It is clearly discriminating against size (or, as one woman pointed out, any aspect of a woman’s body that doesn’t fit conventional beauty standards). To debate modesty is rather pointless anyway, since it’s all subjective. The idea of what modesty is changes from era to era, from culture to culture, from woman to woman. The point of the whole thing – modesty included – is that we have to stop making comments and judgements about other women’s clothing. Or about other women’s anything, really. Cause news flash: if it doesn’t affect you, it doesn’t affect you.

Instead it keeps us separate. It divides us. Where we could be coming together to support each other and to promote the validity of the spectrum of what beauty is, we are actually contributing to this one particular ideal that is created for us and that keeps us feeling bad about ourselves. Instead of lifting each other up, we – under the facade of a compliment – tear each other down. Honestly, I’d rather you just insult me. That’s easier to know what to do with. This confusing frenemy bullshit women have created for each other is detrimental to each of us, and particularly to women as a group.

In many circumstances I might say it’s better to get to the root of a saying and say that instead. But in this case saying, “You’re so beautiful that I’m jealous of you” isn’t really any better. If you are jealous of a friend that is your issue. It’s a legitimate issue and I am not trying to undermine your feelings, but it is your issue. By stating such a thing to a friend you put this weird burden on them to feel guilty for having been complimented, and to try to make you feel better. Chances are they try to make you feel better by tearing themselves down (“Oh, but I look terrible today! You look much better”). And we’re back to degrading ourselves. This time as an unharmonious duet.

Does it feel good to know other women are jealous of us? To hear that we’re hated for our beauty? Sometimes it might, yes. At least on the surface. But I would bet that if we dig deeper, we’d find that it’s a kind of bitter happiness. A happiness that’s less actual happiness and more a consolation prize for having been pushed away from a friend. If we can’t be loved, at least we can be beautiful.

Know what’s more awesome than the consolation prize? The actual prize. Of getting (or giving!) a real compliment. No strings attached. You’re beautiful! I love your eyes! That color makes you look radiant! Your hair looks amazing today! I love that dress on you! You look motherfucking pulchritudinous today!

And you do. Look motherfucking pulchritudinous today.