Sugared Harpy

I found this over at Feministing and it cracked me up. To walk up to someone and ask these questions is crazy and horrifying to me. I love the responses by Charles and Red.

We just took all three kids to Chicago for the weekend (more on that later) and as we were walking our booties off everywhere, Scott and I were talking about (tiring) nice it is to walk everywhere. To get what you need by walking and not having to drive. Then I read on Mama Is today about the Walk Score.

Basically, it tells you how walkable your address is compared to what’s around you. Now, be aware that they are using miles as the crow flies. So if a restaurant is across a lake from your house, Walk Score is assuming you are going to Jesus walk across the lake…so, it’s good to check with
Google Maps Walking Directions.

What I do NOT like about Walk Score is this whole Obesity Epidemic OOGAH BOOGAH and that walking will fix all the world’s weight issues. Then it goes on to say that those in very high walking areas weigh seven…wait, SEVEN WHOLE…pounds less than those in low walking areas. Sirpuhlease, I don’t think the obesity epidemic is about a measly seven pounds. Meaning, walking everywhere isn’t going to cure The Fat. Also, people have no clue about obesity, weight and how to keep it off OR put it on permanently. Nor do we like to remember that this little epidemic happened around the same time that the guidelines were changed. One year a 160 pound person is normal, the next year that very same 160 pound person is obese…so yeahhhhhh, the numbers shockingly went up. Weird, huh?

So, you may or you many not lose weight walking. Because your weight may be affected by needing more exercise and this might be a thing for you, but person B may have more weight because of genetics, or medication, or an illness, or physical disability, or whatever it may be…but you don’t know that, Haughty. And you can just stop telling people that OMG! Did you hear about exercise? And good food? Because clearly you’re fat and haven’t heard yet, so LET ME TELL YOU.

And onward.

What I’ve learned about my house is that it’s more walkable than I take advantage of. A big grocery store is 0.8 miles from my house, a pizza place right down the street and a library at the other end, and a coffee shop a bit further than that. Why am I not walking?

Car culture. I’m am just USED to my car. I NEED my car to do simple things, too, but not everything and clearly, not here.

My partner and I are watching a History channel show on the Greek god, Zeus and I comment that, “See, honey, see….the women of the story of Zeus are either removed or it’s only from the male point of view. See it?”

(They show Zeus’ mother, Rhea, but not how Chronos treats her. The show also pretends like Zeus just grows up on his own, without any help or nurses…women or a woman who suspended him from a tree to make sure he was neither in the sky or on land, but in between, so his father wouldn’t know of his presence. UPDATE: Oh, and now Zeus only “seduces” women…but apparently rapes none of them. The *male* historians say he “tricked” women into sex, but I guess that’s not rape.)

Scott says, “Hmm, that’s weird.”

IT’S NOT WEIRD. IT’S NORMAL. Women’s contributions are always sanitized out of regular shows, literature, movies, songs, etc…it’s fucking normal.

And it gets my goat every time.

I don’t need to look hard to find sexist shit to fill my day, but sometimes it’s just delivered to my mailbox for me.

I got a(nother) letter from Cambridge Who’s Who saying that WOOT! You are appointed as a candidate to the Cambridge Who’s Who Registry Among Executive and Professional Women. See that, only among the women. I know this is a scam, since to get on the registry that will do you no good, you have to cough up hundreds of dollars.

But what strikes me is that when you google this, you quickly realize that men get on the Cambridge Who’s Who Among Executives and Professionals. Not Executive and Professional Men…no, no, silly, just Executives and Professionals.

Because executives and professionals are by default, male. They don’t need a special category like us womens do, what with us being all cute by trying to work.

It is not a good sign when you google “bakeries” and your zip code and for five pages you get mall cookie shops.

Gimme good bakeries!

I sometimes try to explain why sexism is such a major thing with me, why I get so fucking worked up over what seems to be small slights to a man.

And wouldn’t you know, Delagar did that for me. GO READ!

I was walking to my car after class when this suicidal grasshopper jumped onto my shoulder. Rather than be swatted to death, clearly his plan, he merely became my living brooch. Stunned a bit, I just let him ride his way to my car where I put him back in the grass. Probably, I disappointed him but too bad, buddy. Today isn’t your day.

***

Apparently, this week is Ache to Punch Your Landlord in the Face Week for those named Melissa. Sunday afternoon I found a note attached to my door (why yes, this is his exact punctuation).

Dear Tenant

We are needing to get inside Tomorrow 9-29-08 for inspection Please call me @ ****** Thanks, ____

LANDLORD

First of all, this is not my landlord. This is my landlord’s son. Second of all, fool ass…inspection? Didn’t y’all just have an appraiser through here in the winter because you just refinanced?

So I call, leave a message, get a ring back. “Uh, did someone call from this phone?”

“YES (Fool). Because you told me to.”

In this phone call, I learn that he wants to meet me at my door as soon as I pull in from work and through setting that up I hear this, “…because when you sell a house you need an inspection.”

‘SCUSEME? Sell the house?”

“Oh, yeah, I had to leave school and I need a place to like, party in and stuff so my mom is giving me that house.”

INTERESTING.

The next day when he arrives, I learn more. He’s brought his girlfriend. This is no inspection, this is playing happy families. They are picking out paint colors and choosing which sofa should go on what wall. Naturally, I am livid.

DUDEWHATHEFUCKAREYOUDOINGHERE? WHENAREYOUPLANNINGTOMOVEIN?

“Maybe November to the end of the year. Dunno.”

NO, NEED DATE. MUST PLAN. HAVE KIDS.

“Well, my mom said December 1st. We’d love to have our first Christmas here.”

(I have two kids here, asshole. They like Christmas, too.)

I have to be out by December 1st. I am not pleased. If his mother, my actual landlord, had just sent a letter saying: We are sorry, but we’re selling the house and this is the date in which we’d like to take over possession, I honestly would have been fine. This bullshit prancing around my house expecting me to be happy for them pisses me off.

NB and I had been making some interesting housing plans for January, a happy plan already set in motion a few weeks ago. December is not January, but it is not too far earlier either. But no one wanted a rush, or to have a non-flexible situation, or to have anyone move more than once or have a stupid drive to add on. Our plan, well, it is changing.

“If Planned Parenthood, the Family Research Council and the National Campaign to Prevent Teen and Unwanted Pregnancy really want to reduce unwanted teen pregnancies, they should study such factors as poverty, the older ages of male partners, the advantages having children afford poorer young women and the plunge in births among married teens and adults, among other realities. That would be easier if the stigmatizing concept of “teenage pregnancy” was not part of our health-policy deliberations.”
~ Males, LA Times.

I found this link on Bitch, Phd and thought, “Hey, look, sense!” Go, READ, I’ll wait here.

We’ll get back to riveting hair blogging tomorrow.

As NB and I continue on this little journey and sometimes discuss what’s next, we have noticed something. Our kids have a lot of unexpected siblings.

Daniel and Brett have Sister 1 and Sister 2 at their dad’s. Add in NB’s daughter, E, let’s say. Even if we aren’t living together *yet* nor are we married *not even discussing at this point* they are spending time together and will continue to. If we live together, that solidifies that relationship more. And, if Mike has kids/stepkids, they would most likely count too.

Now include E’s siblings: Sister, Brother 1, and Brother 2 at her mom’s. Also, Step Sister 1, Step Brother, and Step Sister 2 from her dad’s late wife. That gives my kids three unexpected siblings and possibly more by extension of E’s siblings, depending on how the kids later define family for themselves and who they actually spend time wth. E gets eight clear siblings.

The million dollar question is: Is this a problem?

On the positive side, not really. My kids have benefited GREATLY from having my niece Ashley around, as close as a sister, because man oh man is she making them better men for learning how to talk to, not be afraid of, enjoy, laugh with, and learn the sweet and toughness of girls. As for their own sisters, they frustrate them sometimes (to the point of tears for Daniel) because they are LITTLE girls with big ideas about touching not-their-toys, but they also cherish those siblings to pieces. Daniel is an amazingly patient young man with little kids.

As for adding another sibling-like person into their life, well, she’s here. They adore her. They think E hung the moon. Of course if they live together full time they will at some point, argue. So what? Learning to argue is a skill, a valuable skill we all need a lifetime to figure out. But for now, they just like having her around when she is. She seems to enjoy their company as well. All three don’t seem to be as worried about this crap as maybe me or NB.

On the other hand, it could. That’s a lot of people with whom they have to get along. They have to decide at some point who they consider family, since as older kids, they may or may not include who I think they will. It’s more time that is potentially taken away from them. It’s more together time that includes more than just mama and them. It’s more figuring out where they fit in their own family.

You know what though, I can’t say I think those are strong enough reasons to worry to the point of not continuing the relationship or stifling where ever it leads. And seriously, I’m a worrier.

This is all in my head as we discuss where we are going with this thing we have.

I am not interested in marriage at this point. I just need a lot more time before I want to commit myself financially, really, to someone else. After my divorce, I really struggled when I read my credit report. After much letter writing, all is well again. But to feel you didn’t exist for ten years really stings. To know that even stuff, like CARS, you bought alone didn’t make it onto your credit report until you bitched…well, it’ll take some time to make that plunge again.

I could live together, I could go through the hassle of legally making sure things are what you want (such as property issues), but it will take some time to dunk myself into such a bullshit patriarchal system. And, hey, no one will berate me for not changing my name as it won’t be expected. Not that I don’t love when someone gets married or is married or that I won’t get married again someday, by the way, I just wish it wasn’t so intrinsically fucked up for women.

I do wish that couples with children who are committed to each other, whether or not they are “living apart together” or cohabitating, got similar respect as married couples. Because honestly, no matter how someone slices it or what people tell you, hetero-normative style marriage does not equal a more committed relationship (see: True Wife Confessions or you know, talk to a committed gay couple of forty years.)

And not being married doesn’t mean your kids won’t see you as family anyway. Which is probably the part that freaks us out the most :)

Until the very moment I filled in the bubble next to the candidate’s name, I had no idea who I was voting for.

I knew this much: Democratic, Clinton or Obama.

I liked certain parts about each candidate. I disliked certain parts. I sat here the past few days and reread over their voting records and stances on issues, etc. etc. blah etc. And I was completely torn, but yo, I had to pick. So I did.

You should vote, too. For, you know, somebody.

(Maybe not Huckabee, mkay? How is he WINNING caucuses?!)

On to other things:
I have most recently (the last few months) been going bananas. Crazy. Looney Tunes. There are a few things in particular that my brain just can’t put away and relax.

I REALLY NEED MY BRAIN TO SHUSH.

There are no problems. Life is generally good. I am the happiest I’ve been in a long time. But there is a certain change in the air and my mind likes to deconstruct it to bits and spew it out for interpretation.

I am thinking about talking about this here. I may not. I’m torn on that one too…