A LOVER'S QUARREL WITH THE WORLD

no comment

2007-05-29T20:16:00.000-04:00

After tiring of repeatedly repairing to the delete key, I've decided to close this blog. You can thank one bitter person who would like to blame me for what she wrought upon herself and who is seeking venegence by leaving mean-spirited comments. I think it's healthier for her if she doesn't have access to my life.

If you would like to follow me elsewhere in the blogosphere, please send me an email.

back in the saddle

2007-05-17T11:43:00.000-04:00

So, I've been back from Prague for a week and, historically, I like to post anecdotes about my travels. Oh, I'll get around to that.*

I've been too busy soothing Scoonie's trauma at having to be alone with mean Uncle Geoff for over a week. This involves much listening to plaintive meows, imploring me to never.leave.again and a cat face repeatedly smooshed against my face. Delaney, well, she acts like she could care less, but I know better. I know she missed rolling around in the bathtub while I brushed my teeth.

Also what I've been doing
Yesterday I called my mom and said, "Guess what I did last night?" in a tone meant to imply "I did something that will make you clutch your chest with worry."

"Got yourself pregnant?" she asked.

If she would have played along and kept guessing, she might have also ventured:
• Crossed the street even though the signal said "DON'T WALK."
• Made your bed.
• Decided to become a Republican.

"I went...on a motorcycle ride," I replied, drawing out the drama.

"Oh, that's cool," she said nonchalantly.

Whaaa? Clearly, next time I need to tell her: "I went on a motorcycle ride...topless. And then I went home and made my bed."

I can't say riding on motorcycles will be a future avocation. When we got two blocks from my friend's house, I thought maybe this is enough; I'm pretty sure I have the idea.

I didn't exactly have confidence in the ability of my thighs to keep me attached to the bike, nor my arms wrapped around a similarly vulnerable human being. I perpetually envisioned myself catapulting off the small seat onto the less-than-sympathetic-at-45 mph pavement.

I did become more comfortable, zipping through the Cuyahoga Valley, and enjoyed the wind creeping into the helmet and more actively experiencing the landscape.

I even got a tattoo for the occasion. It was a temporary "Born to Read" tattoo, but whatever.

* Present motto.

Ahoj, Praha

2007-04-30T16:29:00.000-04:00

see ya in a few, bloggers.

commander adante of the american legiontakes toilet clogs seriously

2007-04-29T19:58:00.000-04:00

sundry sunday

2007-04-22T13:00:00.000-04:00

• my jeans squeak.

• it's awkward seeing your gynecologist in public; would she really recognize my face?

• one Brach's jellybean equals 10 calories.

• a friend sent me a haiku:

boys make me restless
want to run up and down stairs
spring spring spring spring spring

• in about a week, I'm headed to Prague; right now I'm headed to the roller derby.

personal

2007-04-20T09:58:00.000-04:00

Is Myspace personalizing its ads?

eco blogging tuesdayspring recycling

2007-04-17T15:23:00.000-04:00

Soon, soon, the heady scent of spring will ride on balmy breezes into Ohio. Soon, I'll be able to remove the plastic from my windows, and the weather will goad me into clearing a winter's worth of crap from my car. Spring cleaning, baby!

So it's the perfect time to share resources of where you can recycle items you want to get rid of but are loath to add to a garbage dump. Ancient computer monitors, Saved by the Bell-era cell phones, used batteries, old paint cans...they don't have to meet the fate of mingling with banana peels and baby diapers. (Which, you know, don't have to be in a garbage dump, either, but another eco-blog.)

A great resource for finding recycling facilities is earth911. Type in your zipcode to find facilities near you.

Take to the Summit

For instance, NE Ohio residents can go to the Household Hazardous Waste Center, run by the Summit Akron Solid Waste Management Authority. It's open April–Sept. on Tuesdays from 1–4 p.m. and Wednesdays from 6:30-9:30 p.m. It's located at 1201 Graham Road in Cuyahoga Falls. Among the items you can drop off there: used car oil, car batteries, used tires, televisions, computers, batteries, fluorescent bulbs and chemicals. SASWMA claims it recycles 80% of the materials dropped off.

Along the Cuyahoga

April is computer recycling month for Cuyahoga County. See this the Solid Waste District page to find out which cities are collecting when. (Some collect year-round.)The SWD also provides free tire recycling, usually in September but year-round in some cities. Click here for information. Check out the SWD site for more recycling options in Cuyahoga County.

Whatcha gonna do with all that junk in yer...mailbox

Cuyahoga SWD has a good page on how to reduce junk mail, like registering with the Direct Marketing Association.

Bag lady
Today, I took two used plastic bags into Acme to use for my groceries. When I got to the end of the register, I realized the bagger used new bags and tossed my used ones aside. Gah! I should've brought my cloth bags and taken my used plastic bags to Giant Eagle to recycle.

IKEA has started charging for plastic bags in their stores, God bless 'em. The proceeds of which go to American Forests, the nation's oldest non-profit conservation organization, to plant trees and offset CO2 emissions.

Big Box virtues
Speaking of IKEA, when I was there recently, I noticed recycling bins in the exitway. Not just for aluminum cans. No, you can take pencil stubs, fluorescent bulbs, batteries and possibly other things I can't recall.A recent trip to OfficeMax revealed that they have bins to recycle used cell phones and ink jet cartridges.

Let's get technical
Used CDs are the bane of recyclers, but it looks like the city of Cleveland Heights recycles them, along with other "techno trash." Treehugger also has an article on recycling CDs, but it seems counterintuitive to waste fossil fuel sending items to be recycled.

Hopefully all this information helps you; please add anything else in the comments. Of course, there's always Goodwill or the Salvation Army for donating items that people can still use.

must see tv?

2007-04-15T12:40:00.000-04:00

kickin' ass

2007-04-12T21:53:00.000-04:00

watch this.

via feministing

errata

2007-04-09T12:02:00.000-04:00

This list is accidental. I meant to compile a random list, compelled to title it "errata." The I-bookmarked-my-dictionary-in-eighth-grade part of me suggested this was not correct. Dictionary.com (too lazy to link) confirmed errata does not mean miscellany but, rather, a list of errors. I decided to compile a list of errors instead. Because self-flagellation is not only a fun word to say; it's fun to do, too!

• With no other threatening bids, I pre-emptively bid $500 in "Metyk Money" in a 5th grade auction—all for a poster, nay pin-up, of Debbie Gibson from BOP magazine.

• Kissing that one guy.

• Arguing with scary Kim about a marching band cheer and almost getting a black eye.

• Giving Dina, of Barbie & the Rockers, a crew cut.

• Being pressured to write "Leslie is a lesbian and Sally is dumb" and dropping the note near their houses, where it was discovered. I was in third grade (and didn't know what a lesbian was).

• Kissing that other guy.

• Trying to exploit physics in an elevator in NYC by jumping in the air as it neared its stop, thinking I'd be in air longer because the elevator was moving. I wasn't. (This was my punishment for never taking a physics class.)

• Going to Young Life meetings.

• Sending someone I didn't like a three-eyed candy cane reindeer in high school.

• Not spitting out that shot of vodka, which trying to swallow made me throw up all over the table in front of numerous people.

• Eating my roommate's Easter candy instead of dinner.

• Sixth grade.

• Seventh grade.

• Eighth grade.

Maudy Thursday

2007-04-05T09:07:00.000-04:00

No, it's not a typo. I don't mean "Maundy." I mean "Maudy" as in "Maude." As in the snarky, feminist TV character, played by the inimitable Bea Arthur.

I have only seen clips, not a full episode of "Maude," which ran from 1972-1978. I'm missing out on an integral intersection of pop culture and feminism here! No more.

Today is Maudy Thursday for me. I have devoted myself to watching episodes of "Maude" tonight (after "The Office," duh.) This is just a start to making the world a better place.

four eyes

2007-04-02T10:17:00.000-04:00

The book I would write (if I had the patience and diligence) has already been written. Phew!

Check out Girl with Glasses: My Optic History. And check out its web site. It includes the GWG reading list: Anastasia Krupnik, Ghost World, Harriet the Spy... (Only the library of my life!)

Found out about this book through the ever amusing and bespectacled Que Sera Sera.

a writerly typography

2007-04-02T00:18:00.001-04:00

"The writing was as legible as if it had been typeset, each letter shod and gloved with serifs, the parentheses neatly crimped.."
-Michael Chabon in The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay

eco blogging tuesdayi write on poop.

2007-03-27T22:19:00.000-04:00

In my Xmas bag o' goodies from the Divine Miss Leslie was this notebook to the left, which just screamed "I eat tofu and sing Joni Mitchell songs to animals." So, right up my alley, then.

Leslie divined that the eco-sensibility of the item would charm the organic cotton pants off me.* But she also knew I'd especially thrill to the fact that the paper was eco-friendly because it was made of poop. Because poop charms my pants off everyday.

Just how is this paper made of poop and why is it ecologically friendly?

"In Sri Lanka, elephants are being killed simply because they interfere with agriculture. Many are now convinced that the only way elephants and human beings can exist successfully in the same environment is through finding ways to use the elephant as a sustainable economic resource.

Elephant dung is an end product. It provides a way of converting a liability into an asset in conflict areas. We believe that if the elephant is used as an economic asset so that it contributes meaningfully to the welfare of people, then the people themselves will not like to see it disappear from their area."

So says Eco Maximus company, which manufactures (by hand) the elephant dung paper. Elephant poop makes up 75% of the paper content, recycled paper makes up the rest. The paper is processed with no bleaches or acids. And, no worries, it doesn't smell like crap.

* Lest I tarnish Leslie's reputation for being slutties with the men, she was not trying to charm my pants off so she could have her way with me. She knows that would take more than poopy paper.

eco-blogging tuesdayMPG MVP

2007-03-21T22:15:00.000-04:00

Check out this interesting story in Mother Jones (which I found via the Readymade blog.)

Wayne Gerdes is the Most Fuel-Efficient Driver in the World. He gets 59 MPG in a (non-hybrid) Honda Accord.

How? Along with other techniques, he tailgates semis; takes 25 mph turns at 50 mph; never uses air conditioning; and starts his car by pushing it down his sloping driveway.

Fuel economy is not just that. It's an obsession. So it's not necessarily a story about environmental awareness, but we can easily glean eco-minded driving logic from it.

TXT msg rec'd

2007-03-19T11:56:00.000-04:00

• 2 buck chuck= 2 much fun?

• Ok, that is a certain sign of definitive suckage.

• I went into an A&F store for the first time today. It was half as sexy and twice as creepy as I had expected.

• Have you ever heard of the TV show "Today's Special"? WTF?! (received at 6:48 a.m.)

• My morning thought: My cat is cute, affectionate and pretty self sufficient. No one I've dated has been all three.

• Is Scoonie there?

• Sweet, tell him I said hello.

(all these not quite as entertaining (or abundant) as these.

stacked

2007-03-13T16:54:00.000-04:00

It felt good. Really good to meander through the library, my arms burdened by books.

I seldom do this anymore, whereas it was my M.O. when I was growing up. My enthusiasm for knowledge was bolstered by idealism--that I would actually read everything I checked out.

I definitely read more then. Now my visits to the library so often consist of a brief exchange with the malodorous clerk when I pick up DVDs I had on hold. I'm always in the middle of a book or two; it just takes me longer to get through, and I've accumulated enough books of my own to not need to check out anymore.

It doesn't really matter how many books you own, though. You always want more. Book jackets are constantly flirting with you, suggesting you cheat on your current reading material.

I denied these overtures with logic. But yesterday at the library, I gave in a bit. And it felt good.

filler

2007-03-12T21:15:00.000-04:00

the only good reason for posting these photos is to push down the photo of the pizza lover's pizza in the browser window. i ate that? gross.

of course, feel free to revel in the adorable snorgling of my cats. (If you don't know what snorgling is, you obviously don't visit cute overload everyday like i do, and that clearly means your heart is black and crusty.)

pizza lovers

2007-03-07T21:10:00.000-05:00

My roommate Geoff and I like pizza. A lot.

If our arteries were sliced open, they'd extrude mozzarella. Although we're vegetarians, we're not exactly paragons of healthful eating. So, of course, we were both game to try an exaggeration of our favorite cuisine: the pizza lover's pizza. (This was G's brainchild. I was just the one who giddily clapped my hands in validation of the idea.)

After months of enjoying regular old pizzas, we finally made a pizza lover's pizza last night. (Fittingly, right before G will embark on a 10-day master cleanse, which I bet him a bag of peanut butter M&Ms that he couldn't make it 10 days.) I say "made" but really it was heating up a DiJourno cheese pizza and heating up some Totino's pizza rolls. Then smooshing said rolls into the cheesy goodness of the pizza. Voila: pizza lover's pizza.

I'd be lying if I said there wasn't tension in the air—anticipation, dread...hunger. Tension that could only be abated with a roll of the pizza cutter, blessed of all kitchen utensils.

With one bite (each), it was over. We deflated the mystery, and we can't say it was delicious.

DiJourno pizza is divine in it's own right, when you're craving an overprocessed—but earnest—pizza. And Totino's pizza rolls are divine in their own right, when it's 3 a.m. at the gas station and you're so drunk and hungry and there's nothing else. It just tasted blasphemous to combine these two entities for our personal amusement.

Defeated, we plucked the pizza rolls off the pizza and ate each separately, as God would have wanted.

changing hands

2007-03-04T18:51:00.000-05:00

I have long lived among hand-me-downs. While growing up, my closet was a collection of cousins' and family friends' cast offs. My room itself was filled with my parents' old bedroom furniture—deep chocolate, large and knobby. I was the only third grader I knew who had a queen size bed (that wasn't shared with a sibling).

I never really minded. In fact, I enjoyed rifling through a newly acquired bag of hand-me-down clothes, like a grab bag of prizes. (Only the prizes were stonewashed jeans and oversize, garish sweaters.) Embracing secondhand items, along with my parents' eco logic, influenced my future treehugging sensibilities.

Now I try to use secondhand goods, rather than default to them. I only own two pieces of new furniture: a couch and a mattress. And I'm grateful to the generosity of friends and family, which has contributed to building my household.

I think I'm in my third phase of furniture ownership. First is the college, take-anything-you-can-use phase. Then, the post-college, try-to-achieve-some-semblence-of-adulthood phase, which is still basically a mish-mash. Now is the I-can-be-more-discerning-and-let's-work-hard-to-replace-the-few-items-reeking-of-college phase.

So it means I get to pass along pieces of furniture to people in phase one or two. (Or to my parents who are in a limbo phase of having built a second vacation home, to which they will eventually retire; but they can't afford to populate it with furniture yet.) I also have the added fun of bequeathing possessions Leslie left behind in her move cross-country. (Leslie, Ryan thanks you for basically furnishing his apartment.)

Just this week, I got to replace my motley dining room "set" with a used set someone gave me. It's just what I wanted—a Danish modern set, in teak wood, too. It's great!

Just picture the seats re-upholstered in a muted teal fabric.

This is the best part.

network, drink, watch movies: life is good

2007-02-27T22:41:00.000-05:00

My friend Joe sent this to me today and this event sounds cool, so I thought I'd share.

Plexus is the Northeast Ohio division of the National Gay and Lesbian Chamber of Commerce. They have been holding networking events for people who are supportive of the LGBT community in Cleveland for a few years and now they are coming to Akron! Our first event will be Wednesday, March 14 at Square in Highland Square from 6 to 8 (There is a $5 cosmo drink special that night too).

Cleveland Film Society is going to be there to promote the Cleveland Film Festival (March 15-25). They will be showing a 30 minute clip reel so you can get an idea of what films you would like to go see. Oh and to make the deal even sweeter, every person who comes will get a free pass to go see a movie. Yup. That’s right, a free pass.

Wednesday, March 14
Square @ 820 W. Market St in Akron
6 to 8 pm
Free Cleveland Film Festival ticket to all who show up

nosy

2007-02-22T22:14:00.000-05:00

Colds make for desperate people.

Yesterday, I sat in a steam room while wearing a sweater. Once I drank tea. (TEA! That "beverage" that tastes like water with some herbs in it. Gross.) Cloth napkins become appropriate snot rags. It's ok to smear Vaseline all over your face. Mixing Sudafed and an antihistimine along with your regular pharmaceutical cocktail is legitimate.

Anything, anything to take away for a brief moment that tickle lodged high up in your nostril. That demon who can clog it up or break the dam.

Today I woke up to an NPR story about "nasal irrigation," which is a practice of flushing your nasal cavity with salinated water. Yeah, yeah I know about that. Please, I'm an eco-minded, liberal feminist—like I don't know people who own neti pots? I'd even tried Leslie's before, when my nose was irreparably clogged. I don't know where the water I poured in one nostril went. It was supposed to trickle out the other nostril. Much to the dismay of Leslie's cat, who anticipated licking at the stream of water coming out my nose, it did not.

But today, I decided I needed to irrigate my nose again. And I decided I needed to tell everyone that "I irrigated my nose." The notion was just too preciously nerdy. I couldn't help but conjure images of farmers sprinkling chalky dirt fields with hoses.

I was too cheap and too tired to schelp to a natural foods store to buy a neti pot, so I bought a baby nasal aspirator at Wal-Greens. I can't justify spending a lot of money on something used to shoot water up my nose. But nor could I embrace the rugged and reckless but free method of snuffing water out of your cupped hands. That says Afterschool Special material to me.

The actual irrigation of the nose is nothing to write home about, but, of course, it's something to write on a blog because that's what blogs are for, fools. It seems to alleviate my nosy symptoms for a while, and I'm willing to try it again, if just for the purpose of telling someone I irrigated my nose.

winter's love letter to ohio

2007-02-19T11:58:00.000-05:00

indigestion

2007-02-13T17:22:00.000-05:00

Things my dog has eaten in the last 15 1/2 years

• Glitter-coated pine cones

• A container of mink oil (for conditioning shoes)

• Shoes

• A bag full of Hershey's kisses, with the foil wrappers

• Approximately 358 snotty tissues

• A couple chocolates that my co-worker at Famous Footwear had made (and laced with laxative so we could give them to our disliked boss)

• The Beverly Hills 90210 book I got out of the library

• My brother's ear

• A troll

rules

2007-02-11T17:03:00.000-05:00

Once upon a time, when I was in fifth grade, perhaps, I attempted to wield a modicum of power by issuing these rules for entering my room.

If you can't make out the very authoritative, written-in-highlighter prose, it says:

Rules: You must like Debbie Gibson or New Kids on the Block to enter. You have to be my friend or family.* No people under 6 allowed.** You have to be able to tolerate a mess.***
Thanx, Lisa

For added emphasis, there are the three declarations of "luv" for the following: Debbie Gibson, Joe McIntyre and dogs.

Annotations:
* Because we got a lot of strangers wandering around the second floor of my parents' house.
** And how old was my brother at that time? Five! Snap!!
*** My room strewn as it was with my COLLECTION OF HATS because Deborah Ann Gibson (a.k.a. DAG)**** had a HAT COLLECTION.
**** In each issue of Sassy magazine, it introduced a new "word." One time it was "dag" or "daggy." Definition: Loser or lame. The writer commented "is it a coincidence that Debbie's Gibson's initials spell 'dag'? I think not." Sooo mean.

conversation heart hockey

2007-02-09T16:08:00.000-05:00

U R Mine, Scoonie.

confinement

2007-02-05T15:16:00.000-05:00

It's days like these that I understand why my friend Mark gave up NEOhio for the scrubby, whore-infested desert of Las Vegas. Anywhere I don't have to wear two pairs of socks to bed is quite tempting right now. Third-world countries with no running water, but a balmy 65 degrees? I'm so there.

I haven't left my house for three days for fear of the elements. (Well, and a headcold kept me in today.) Not that the house is much warmer. I'm fairly certain the cats' dish of water is close to icing over. Anytime I near an even somewhat reclining position, the cats attach themselves to me to siphon off my body heat. I delude myself into thinking it's loyal affection.

An hour ago, I broke down. I tore off the shackles of thriftiness and eco-consciousness and bumped my thermostat up to 67 degrees. I decide the two extra degrees are my winter vacation. Instead of sitting on the beach in Florida, I'll sit in my living room with only one layer of blankets. We all need our indulgences.

bookwormy

2007-02-01T16:52:00.000-05:00

I think reading as a child is probably superior to reading as an adult. Granted, now I can stay up AS LATE AS I WANT to devour whatever tome (see below) I happen to be reading. But the truth is my eye lids usually droop after ten pages.

When I was a child, I hid books in my sheets and squinted by the light from the hallway, reading until a parent's footsteps rounded the stairs. This was how nerd children rebelled, illictly drinking up literature. That satisfaction—of eschewing "the man's" bedtime—coupled with the pleasure of reading is difficult to reproduce as an adult.

Still I try. Try to find that book that envelopes you so completely and restores your wonder at the fantastical. Or wonder at the beauty, simplicity or power of language. Since graduating, with an English degree, these books come to me less frequently. Or rather I seek them out less, prone as I am to non-fiction or thoughtful magazines. And it seems as if my reading capacity has diminished. It takes me much longer to finish a book, what with the tired eyes of a 9-5er.

Still I try. I read something before bed every night. No matter what time I am getting to bed. It may be just a page or two, but it's something.

Right now I'm reading Middlesex at the hearty recommendation of Katherine. It has not fully consumed me but sometimes I do get lost in its world, wandering for a bit. Just this glimmer that it's possible is enough.

stealing my 7-year old dreams

2007-01-28T22:58:00.000-05:00

(photo care of the wonderful big happy funhouse of found photos.)

below is what happens

2007-01-24T22:39:00.000-05:00

when you let your roommate use your computer while you're in the midst of writer's block and have a "new post" screen tab open.

denigrating one's personal scent is much preferred to the usual outcome of letting a roommate borrow my computer: pR0n.

GEOFF

2007-01-24T21:46:00.000-05:00

my new roomate geoff kind of smells like ham.

theatrics

2007-01-21T19:26:00.000-05:00

I announced less than a week ago that the owner of the Highland Theater in Highland Square had taken out a permit to raze the building. Since then, I've attended three meetings (one at which the mayor was present) and read lengthy threads at the chief source and highlandsquare.org regarding the news and its implications.

I've wrestled with where I stand on what should or should not be done. As a member of the Highland Square Neighborhood Association, I'm probably immediately labeled as a rabble rouser/chicken little/eternal optimist/diehard liberal just by association. It's true that the news cuffed the sleeve that my heart rides on, and my instinct was to chain myself to the vinyl-padded doors of the theater.

But I'm also a realist/cynic, and this side of my regularly does battle with the hopeful optimist in me. (So much so that I named my blog in honor of the duality.) Arguments ceding the theater because of a reality of low attendance and high maintenance costs didn't fall on deaf ears. Nor do I ignore the need for Portage Path Elementary School to be rebuilt and serve the needs of its students/families.

I don't have to take a stance, yet I'm often asked about Highland Square goings on, so I wanted to flesh out this complicated issue.

The neighborhood association is launching a campaign to "save the theater." Saying this is a tad hyperbolic but more concise than "Let's see if we can find a way to keep the theater as a viable, mixed-use community arts center while addressing the important needs of Portage Path School."

I decided I support this effort, and I hope the nuances of it will come across, rather than it looking like a "save the theater at all costs just because" campaign.

While it may be a very optimistic endeavor, it is not naive. We are well aware of the challenges—and there are many. Our organization has behind it some bright, talented people that have tackled projects that qualify them to give this one a try. Plus our new president has more energy than someone who sprinkles cocaine on her Cheerios every morning.

One of the first objectives is to assess feasibility. Maybe we'll come to the conclusion that it is not viable, but our city government and the owner of the Highland should let us try.

It's difficult to make a go of anything amongst the politics I surmise are at play with the theater. It's not just an issue of someone's wanting to tear a theater down. Tearing it down would create space to use for Portage Path School, which is located behind the theater. I think some people want to paint the issue as black and white—giving the school what it needs versus preserving a local landmark. There has to be a way to do both.

And that's what we're trying to find out.

more fun than a magic 8 ball

2007-01-17T12:57:00.000-05:00

Meme time. Go to your music player of choice and put it on shuffle. Say the following questions aloud, and press play. Use the song title as the answer to the question. NO CHEATING.

How does the world see you?
"Born secular" by Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins
(sorry but the world definitely sees me as jewish.)

Will I have a happy life?"
"Hey Girl" by Billy Joel
(you're avoiding the question)

What do my friends really think of me?
"Hey, Mrs. Lovely" by Ryan Adams
(so you think I'll get married!?!)

How can I make myself happy?
"Like a River" by Kasey Chambers
(is this new age advice shit?)

What should I do with my life?
"Send a message to her" by Beck
(Who's her!!?)

Will I ever have children?
"Carrion" by Fiona Apple
(Sweet jesus. that's morbid.)

What is some good advice for me?
"Insect Eyes" by Devendra Banhart

How will I be remembered?
"My Baby just cares for me" by Nina Simone

What is my signature dancing song?
"Joanni" by Kate Bush
(if this isn't michael jackson or stevie wonder or a bollywood song, it's a damn lie)

What do I think my current theme song is?
"Sleeping In" by the Postal Service
(could very well be)

What does everyone else think my current theme song is?
"Bright as Yellow" by Innocence Mission
(aww, thanks, y'all.)

What song will play at my funeral?
"Upon this tidal wave of young blood" by Clap your hands say yeah
(um, again, morbid.)

What is my day going to be like?
"How to be invisible" by Kate Bush
(so, like every day?)

more drama in highland square

2007-01-16T12:23:00.000-05:00

Even I thought Highland Square might be quieting down a bit. Ha!

In the last two weeks, there was speculation about the grocery promised to the neighborhood. Why hadn't they broken ground yet? Was there actually going to be a grocery or was it a clever trick to make the lot into another parking lot?

Those questions and ideas have been superceded this week with the information that there are plans to raze the Highland Theater—an unquestionable beacon, albeit not fulfilling its potential, of Highland Square. You can view the permit details here.

It looks like these plans have been brewing behind closed doors among the city, Akron Public Schools and Ted Bare--the owner of the Highland Theater. Portage Path elementary school, located behind the theater, has been in need of renovating/expanding, and it appears as if the theater will be razed to make space for the school.

This city is screwed up.

If you are interested in attending an emergency meeting about this current situation this evening, please contact me.

flattery will get you a cat sitter

2007-01-14T18:09:00.000-05:00

Saturday night Lindy Loo's boyfriend announced that should both she and he die in a car crash, they wanted me to adopt their cats. He may have been drunk when he said this. And he did not extend the request in the case of other scenarios that would render them dead. Only a car crash.

Still, he claimed seriousness, and I related because when I was in California I asked Katherine and Ben if they'd adopt my cats if something happened to me. (Really, this was just the polite thing to do since they asked me to foster their cat Scoonie nearly five years ago and I didn't give him back.)

I was flattered someone had taken a shine to my responsible, nurturing personality—one capable of caring for other living beings. The reality, though, is that they think I'm a cat lady. That I'm destined to wake up with fur stuck to the drool that dried on the corners of my mouth. That someday there won't be a wallet big enough to hold all the photos of my cats. And they just want to help me fulfill that destiny.

Thoughtful, really.

spooning

2007-01-11T21:47:00.000-05:00

I'm missing a lot of spoons.

I don't know exactly how this happened. I'm not reckless with my silverware. I don't take it to work (I keep mismatched silverware at work). And I don't leave them on plates that I've pushed under the couch or bed after a meal. (Like a former boyfriend of mine used to.)

Since Leslie moved out, taking her matching silverware with her, it appears as if my collection of spoons has dwindled. I doubt they disappeared in the last two years. It's likely they disappeared by way of my ex-roommate, "the borrower." When the situation grew desperate with her "borrowing" ways, I staged a liberation of my possessions from her room, unearthing a multitude of curiosities. Including crusted over cereal bowls—my bowls. Socks—my socks. And a moldy yam—not mine.

Possessions of mine I never saw again: a few shirts, a mixing bowl, some CDs, a towel, some tupperware and a cookie cooling rack. This is all I can think of. So it's hardly unlikely some spoons weren't in the pfilered potpurri.

It leaves me with a silverware dilemna. I thought I could make it through my twenties with thrift-store utensils...but I don't know if I'm strong enough. This would mean doing the dishes every two or three days. Then there's my visions of holding swank dinner parties.* The classiness diminishes a lot when a mix of ice tea spoons and children's spoons help make up the place settings.

Somehow purchasing a real set of silverware would connote my submission to adulthood more than buying a $1,000 couch—which I did this year. It feels more responsible than deciding, 'you know, I think I need to put more of my paycheck into my retirement plan.'

I can't say I'm not wont to fondle the brushed nickel handles of utensils lining the shelves of Target or Crate & Barrel. But am I ready to [wait for it......] stick a fork in my mismatched youth?

* I may need to work on the actual content of the dinner part of the party, though, considering the last time I had a friend over for dinner I served him spinach, mashed potatoes and orange juice. And fudge. Classy.

stock photo follies

2007-01-10T15:42:00.000-05:00

Conversation in "Art Department"

A: I need a photo ASAP for this Mystery Shopper ad!

B: Here, use this photo we used for the "Talk Live to Local Singles!" ad.

A: Yes, a girl in a satin mini-dress/nightgown, subtly forming a target over her crotch, would be completely relevant to mystery shopping. Thanks!

in the LA airport

2007-01-08T16:52:00.000-05:00

how you know your flight is heading to Ohio.

giving in

2007-01-07T18:00:00.000-05:00

At the behest of Blogger, which has been imploring me to try NEW BLOGGER! for a while now, I've made the switch. How cliché: A new year, a new look.

I've long avoided the ultimate cliché of starting a new year—resolutions. Mostly because I despised succumbing to a cliché. But what is being in your late 20s but quiet desperation? Desperate people don't bother to eschew clichés, not when they offer potential avenues to soothing quarter-life malaise.

So I made resoultions to myself at the end of 2006. It just happened to be in time for the new year. I didn't write anything down; they're ideas swirling in my head—actions to take toward self-improvement. Yadda yadda yadda. I'm not even going to write them down here (and not because they are embarrassing, like resolving to purchase a vibrator or something).

I only write anything here at all out of the need to confess—to come clean about giving in to a cliché. And maybe because part of my malaise leaves me bereft of words, thus desperate for something to blog about. Hopefully my resolutions will take care of all that this year.

2007-01-01T22:41:00.000-05:00

'tis the season

2006-12-25T22:38:00.000-05:00

• I received a racist holiday newsletter in which my relatives lamented their decision to purchase a car from someone named Mohammed. (And, no, this letter was not written by my grandparents.)

• On Xmas eve, I clomped around in my mother's duck boots in the dark outside, holding my laptop and trying to find a wireless signal. (Because I am that devoted to my job.)

• I ate enough sugar to qualify as an honorary diabetic.

• My uncle sends my immediate family a box of sundry bath & body products every year b/c he works for a company that manufactures a variety of products; this year he included a small bottle of "personal lubricant." I gave it to my parents. "For your new house," I told them.

• Another menorah-less year for my cat Scoonie.

• The torrential sound of my brother's eliminating ten Hi-C juiceboxes (drank in twenty minutes) woke up my father in the middle of the night.

• A relative generously handed out trinkets to all 20 or so of us. I got a small plastic dish with a 39¢ sticker still on the bottom. God bless 'er.

lessons in diversity

2006-12-17T22:11:00.000-05:00

I always learn a lot during my trips to California. I usually spend a day or two with my grandparents, who usually regale me with tales of how Mexicans are taking over the world.

This visit, my grandma taught me about different ethnicities:

• "Latina women like to have babies."

• "Asians don't mind living in small apartments above stores."

• "Armenians are cutthroat businessmen."

And then I told her I was converting to Islam.

excuses

2006-12-13T21:56:00.000-05:00

I'm sure everyone (and by everyone, I mean Lindy Loo) has been repeatedly checking their bloglines to see if I've written about eco wines yet. I'm going to heighten the suspense and postpone it until Tuesday. My sinuses picked today to revolt, so it's just been nasal chaos and an antihistimine-fueled aftermath.
You understand. Or don't care. Whatever.

eco-postponement

2006-12-12T23:49:00.000-05:00

I was going to write about organic and vegan wine (and beer) tonight, but, currently, I am under the influence of said blog topic. (tomorrow is another day.)

'Til then, here are some thoughts:

• Why do people buy vanity license plates that indicate the make of their car? I *know* you're driving a MNI CPR or a VW BUG. Don't spend an extra $50 to tell me this.

• FYI: I do not get Chanukah off from work. It's not a holiday that Jewish law prescribes people to refrain from "work." The holiday is easily conflated with Christmas, but it is not of the most important of Jewish holidays.

• Katherine and Ben are good hosts. They let me not make my bed, blech as much as I wanted and buy the beans for dinner.

qualities my grandmother says one should look for in a man

2006-12-06T22:46:00.000-05:00

1. Faithful*

2. Rich

3. Hard-working

4. Outgoing

5. [Mock whispering and nodding at my grandpa] and Sober**

* So, by her logic, no Mexicans.

** Because no one wants a call from Barstow at 4 in the morning, after the caller has drunkenly driven there 3 hours from Ventura.

eco blogging tuesdaynot so much.

2006-11-28T17:19:00.000-05:00

I'm rebelling against eco-blogging Tuesday by hopping on a jet plane to Calif. tomorrow morning. As soon as I land in LA, I'm gonna find me a bobble-headed, anorexic celebrity to feed the mountain cat I've killed for dinner. After dinner, I'll chew some gum. And. throw.the.wrapper.out.the.window.

'Til next time, my friends, consider this site: How Can I Recycle This? in which people ask "how can I reuse an old toothbrush, an expired condom, stale fritos, etc?" And, then, other people answer. Jolly good.

It reminds me of the "what the heck can i do with this?" forum on crafter. In which crafty gals and guys share their ideas of how to creatively re-use items like AOL CD tins everyone gets in the mail or old books or buttons or pantyhose. (I don't know; i use my old pantyhose when I rob liquor stores. I consider that creative re-use.)

steps toward becoming a crazy cat lady

2006-11-27T14:48:00.000-05:00

Last night I dreamt I was brushing my hair and brushed out some cat poop.

My only thought in the dream was perhaps I should brush my hair more often.

my first stripper

2006-11-26T00:25:00.000-05:00

I was nine, maybe ten. I wore a gray suede vest, (which was probably meant for a petite professional woman to wear on casual Fridays in the '80s). Too many visits to the bowl of pastel after-dinner mints had bloated my stomach a bit. I sat on the carpet, below my seated parents, at the 40th birthday party of one of my many aunts.

My heart stopped when a police officer knocked on the door and was let inside. I fearfully watched the man request my aunt, wondering what happened. What had she done? My fear escalated as he snapped metal handcuffs on her wrists, but she wasn't scared. She was laughing, her head shaking but her yellow blonde helmet-hair immobile.

I understood this was not a real cop when he started to take off his clothes. He might have been dancing to music, I don't know. Another aunt left the room with her young child in tow.

He was down to a red thong when he explained that my handcuffed aunt could liberate herself from the shackles. But she'd have to retrieve the key. Then he dropped it in his thong. My aunt was red and I was appalled and embarrassed. I think this was the point my mother covered my eyes.

I had seen enough.

(Inspired after reading Cleveland Happenstance's first visit to a strip club)

defense

2006-11-21T19:45:00.000-05:00

This teaser:

Why blogs suck: "i am afraid of the analagous phenonena happening: blog as signifier for experience, rather than experience itself."

for this link via Kottke grabbed my attention today.

I'm not ardently defensive about blogs. I bash them, too—if they deserve it. But I felt this sentiment—without yet having explored its context—was a bunch of posturing bull. I pictured someone eager to pontificate on the social ramifications of dog poop if it meant it made him sound erudite. (Yes, not smart, but erudite.)

After linking through, I think I may have correctly visualized this person, judging from this text:

blogs seem rather apt at reinforcing the reflective impotence already pervasive in our late-capitalistic society. eg, link-blogging of culture as a stand-in for participating in culture has a very delibidinizing effect on me: curation is a seductive substitute for meaningful absorbtion/digestion/participation in discourse.

Am I too ensconced in the "real world," having lost my ability to rapidly parse academic speak? And I'm saying this as quite a fan of ten-dollar words.

Before I explored the link, I was poised to argue the point of the teaser. Of course a blog isn't experience. It's writing, which is inherently reflective or observational. That's the point, and blogs don't detract from actual experience-having but rather provide an outlet for expression.

Any writer type will tell you that he/she often treasures the idea of an experience over the experience itself. In that it will make a good story—spoken or written—in the future. It's how we process the world.

And blogs function as a processing tool. "Blogging" can be writing—in its many forms—or a way of organizing or presenting information. Hell, I'm processing right now. (Thanks for obliging me.)

So now I'm getting defensive about blogs.

the day my trash smelled of Limelight

2006-11-20T19:50:00.000-05:00

Life didn't shit on me today; it exploded lotion on me.

My penchant for conservation—of all forms—cost me today. In addition to the noble "tread lightly on the earth" philosophy I try to observe, I think I'm a hoarder of things. Including bath and beauty products.

I refuse to cavalierly use my favorite shampoo because it's now discontinued. So I've been savoring it for the last five years. So it should come as no surrpise that I still had a half-full bottle of Bath & Body Works Limelight lotion. Nor should it come as a surprise, if you know me, that I bought it at a garage sale about four years ago or so.

Limelight has been long discontinued, save for in my collection of scents. Perhaps I should have taken a lesson from its obsolescence before that lesson exploded in my office.

See, apparently, when plastic gets old, it gets brittle. And when you apply continuing pressure to it, it's likely to crack. And, oh, did it.

For a moment, as the lotion floweth down my dress/shirt, I cursed my brute strength and not my pack ratty-ness. The aburdness of the situation censored an "oh, F*#&" to a mild, office-friendly "oh, crap." Which prompted my co-worker to come and wipe me down with wet paper towels.

I paid for my pack ratty-ness by spending a day shlubbed out in my gym clothes. It served good purpose, really. By wearing a sweatshirt that could fit two of me (maybe if one of me had "food issues"), I envisioned myself 30 pounds heavier and over-reliant on Hanes Her Way sweats. This helped propel me to the treadmill.

Thanks Limelight. And my trash smells good, too.

eco blogging tuesdaysimple.

2006-11-14T18:12:00.000-05:00

I think perhaps it was high school when I discovered The Tightwad Gazette books, compilations of the newsletters of the same name. A self-professed "frugal zealot," the author detailed both how and why one could live frugally. Through meticulous re-use, simplicity and home-spun projects, her family achieved a quality of life that few get to enjoy. A welcome side effect was less impact on the environment.

Often people associate "green living" with "expensive living." Indeed, choosing green products over conventional can raise your expenses. But these costs can be offset with increased simplicity or lifestyle changes, which only benefits the environment more.

People have "lived simply"—relative to their contemporaries—throughout history. (Thoreau, anyone?) And people are living simply today, to various degrees. (Sorry, but reading "Real Simple" magazine doesn't qualify.) Going off the grid might be an extreme lifestyle modification for most of us, but we can glean a lot of valuable ideas from those involved in voluntary simplicity, homesteading or sustainable living.
I recently discovered the blog for Path to Freedom.

PTF is a not for profit, family operated, viable urban homesteading project established to promote a simpler and more fulfilling lifestyle and reduce one family's "footprint" on the earth's dwindling resources.

It's interesting to follow their journey. They do small-level farming; make their own bio-diesel, which fuels their car on a limited basis; use hand-powered appliances; do crafts; practice homeopathy and more. Among the five people involved in the project, they've taken two airplane trips in 25 years. (Eek; I'm not good at reducing my use of airplanes.)

Frugal for Life is another good site to visit. The site's author is more focused on living within one's means, but, again, that has a positive effect on the environment. I like her 8 Ways to Help Yourself Simplify. They're incredibly basic—common sense, even—but our society hasn't taught us to think this way, so it's always good to reinforce it.

Self-sufficient ish has a wealth of information—look at the links on the sides of the blog. They range from recipes to how to grow an organic container garden to making a solar oven to making plant pots out of newspaper to homebrewing.

I'll raise a glass of homebrew to frugality any day.

eco blogging tuesdayvote democratic

2006-11-07T09:43:00.000-05:00

It's better for the environment.

the naming of things

2006-11-06T08:30:00.000-05:00

I'm trying to think of a name for my iPod. Its previous owner bequeathed it to me with the name SUKKOT, for my benefit. But I wish to not go with such a seasonal name.

I just don't have the best history of naming things. First goldfish: Goldie. Guinea pig: Shannon. (Shannon?!?) I didn't have to name my cat Scoonie, but I did name my cat Delaney—after a week of deliberation and reneging the name Flicka. While I like the name Delaney, it just doesn't seem right still—and for a cat, at that.

I went into cat adoption with such good naming intentions. Bianca, Bijou, Finnigan, Elijah, Sebastian...these were some of the names I reserved for naming cats. Yet, when I picked out my calico girl, none seemed to fit her.

To the baby-naming book I went.

[Aside: I adored baby-naming books when I was younger. Not for divining names of my future children, but for the many characters I conjured in writing. I copped to being a "writer," but really I was just into character development.]

I decided on Delaney. And now I worry she's living this false existence as "Delaney" when really she's a Penelope or Daphne.

Lord knows I don't want the same fate for my iPod. Oh, no.
It's not like other inanimate objects that people sometimes name. I never latched onto a name for cars I owned or for my computer. The iPod, though, its name pops up everytime I hook it up to my computer. It'll be a constant reminder of my naming prowess (or lack thereof).

It's gotta be good.

parma mourns

2006-11-03T08:23:00.000-05:00

Via Apartment Therapy,

Union Products, the company that produced pink lawn flamingos for nearly 50 years, closed its doors yesterday.The kitsch icons swept Florida then the nation. Union Products made 250,000 of the patented flamingos annually.

(A commenter notes she thinks another company has bought the molds to continue production.)

Personally, I appreciate the kitsch value of pink flamingos. If I had a '50s-style backyard set up, I'd totally try to bum my grandma's flamingo from her. (Although then her statue of Mary sure would be lonely.)

eco blogging tuesdaycut it up

2006-10-31T20:15:00.000-05:00

Refashioning. Clothing surgery. Reconstruction. Call it what you will, but this trend of crafting through recycling fashion is growing.

My first experience at re-purposing clothing involved my Barbie dolls. I found that cutting two holes in a section of otherwise unusable tights created a cool, slinky garmet for the dolls. ("Cool," of course, was relative, as I also considered beds made of tissue boxes to be quite clever.)

Thrift wasteland
Out of need, people have long re-purposed clothing. Pieces of clothes became quilts or perhaps garmets for children. As part of sewing most of their own clothing, people used to maintain a use-what-you-have mentality. But, in Western cultures, the prevalence of affordable convenience items trumped that mindset. Thrift stores became preferred destinations for those who didn't buy into the consumerist ethos. Then they became a trend in themselves. Thrifted clothing lost the stigma of poverty, especially if it was vintage ('60s or 70s); then it was hip.

Back in the day (ok, if 1995 qualifies as "the day"), you could easily find choice vintage duds, sandwiched between the '80s power suits and gem sweaters, at the Salvation Army. Nowadays, it seems like eBay entrepreneurs and vintage store owners have gutted the thrifts of any cool and unique finds.

Even the queen of thrifting Al Hoff—creator of the defunct zine Thrift Score—lamented the lame state of thrift stores these days. She said this when I met her at the Bazaar Bizarre craft fair in Cleveland; she was selling crafts made from her numerous thrift scores over the years.

Rebirth of Cool
That appears to be the new direction: reconstructing things out of old things. It fits in well with the recent rebirth of crafting and the resurgence of eco-mindedness. Many crafters are turning to discarded clothing to create new fashions.

The photo to the left is the work of Amour Sans Anguish, which sells such reconstructed fashions online.

The sweater to the right was made by Mod to Modern.

Some others who are successfully reinventing fashions:
• Supayana (to the left below)
• Akane clothing
• Worn Again
• Preloved

FYI: DIY
If anything, crafting is democratic. So while you may not be able to finangle a piece like above, there's simple "surgeries" you can do. And there's a growing stockpile of inspiration or advice on how to do so. The site Wardrobe Refashion is a blog anyone can join—after taking its pledge to "refashion, renovate, recycle pre-loved items for myself for the term of my contract." Or, for just visuals of refashioning go to the Wardrobe Refashion Flickr pool.

T-shirt refashioning—like the one from the Flickr pool, shown to the left—seems to be a starting point for people who want to recycle clothing. There's an overabundance of tees and you don't always have to sew the edges, making the projects easier. There's a number of books out there, too, that share the manifold possiblities of t-shirt reconstruction. Like Generation T:108 Ways to Transform a T-shirt, which is available at ASCPL but I only found about ten "transformations" I'd actually wear. (Sorry, not fringing a t-shirt unless it's for Halloween.)

Here are a few online "refashioning" tutorials:
• Making a twist-top t-shirt
• Make a halter from a t-shirt
• Man pants into cute skirt

"Refashioning" can be as simple as altering a piece of clothing so it better fits you, and some basic sewing skills can help you accomplish that. If sewing clothing is too daunting ('cuz it totally freaks me out), think about re-using clothing to make things like pillows or hand bags—anything you might need fabric for—instead of going out to buy new stuff.

a whiter shade

2006-10-29T17:50:00.000-05:00

Lately, Jack White has been speaking to me.
I've never been a huge White Stripes fan. But the other day, the song Steady as She Goes by his other band the Raconteurs came up on my iPod, and I felt chemistry, I did. So I started playing more of his music. (Ok, the two White Stripes songs currrently on my iPod.)

Something, something in his voice is just utterly compelling. The rawness, the earnestness. I don't know, but it makes my stomach tingle just so. Not to be mistaken, I do not feel that same tingle when I see Jack White. The whole 'I look Goth but I'm not': meh. The wide circumference of his nostrils would just compel me to see if I could stuff a gerbil up his nose.

I just have a crush on a disembodied voice, that's all.
My feelings are similar to when you dream of kissing or cuddling someone you either don't know, hardly know or can't imagine even touching. Yet, the next day you wake up with an softness toward this person, even though, rationally, it's very creepy.

The emotional residue from dreams usually dissipates quickly, and I'm sure my infatuation with Jack White's voice will fade—especially once I realize that it's really difficult to have a relationship with a voice. (Though thousands of phone sex callers beg to differ.)

Until then, I'm going to Wichita.

equality

2006-10-26T14:32:00.000-04:00

eco blogging tuesdayremains of the day

2006-10-23T22:13:00.000-04:00

[Just in time for Halloween]

I saw a dead body when I was 15. It was at biotechnology camp.

Seeing the gray-skinned, pruny cadaver marinating in formaldehyde was somehow less disturbing than having seen embalmed, made-up corpses at funeral homes. I think it was about this time that I decided I wanted to donate my body to science when I kicked it.

I stand by this decision, combining what I feel is rational, ethical, economic and environmental sense. Because this is an eco blog post, I'm gonna focus on the environmental aspects of just what to do with a dead body here.

Taking your sins to the grave
You'd think your ecological footprint would dissolve once you met the reaper. Not if you're buried conventionally. First you're embalmed in toxic chemicals, which can leach into the ground. Then, you're placed in an ostenatious box that could take eons to biodegrade. Then, you take up space in the ground. What a legacy.

The "death care" industry supports this process—just as other industries support other processes detrimental to the environment. Fortunately, many people are choosing cremation, which creates less ecological impact. These aren't the only choices we have, though.

Compost yourself
The Green Burial Council is a non-profit that "encourage[s] ethical and sustainable practices in the deathcare industry, and to use the burial process as a means of facilitating ecological restoration and landscape-level conservation." It has created standards to use in certifying eco-burials—which might allow these cardboard coffins. Its site will soon list approved providers of eco-burials.

The magazine Lip recently published an interesting interview with Mary Roach, author of Stiff. She brought up "human composting"—a movement that began in Sweden. Apparently, a body can be deep freezed and vibrated so it breaks into small pieces. These pieces are then freeze dried and given to the loved ones to bury and plant something over the remains.

Give it up
If you aren't ethically obliged to a belief system that stipulates whole body burial, donating your body to science is another option. Apparently, all you have to do is contact a local university for a body donor form. (Gotta stay local though because there are laws about transporting un-embalmed bodies over state lines, according to Mary Roach.) Go here for a list of full body donation programs in the US.

Of course, there's always organ donation to remember, too. But once they take the good parts, you still have to do something with the rest.

What we want someone to do with our bodies once we bite the dust is not something we like to think about. Some of these options may seem strange or gross, but really all of them are gross. Death is not pretty, but the least we can do is plan a responsible way to deal with it.

pet peeve

2006-10-20T00:04:00.000-04:00

Twice in one week I saw magnetic "ribbons" like this stuck to cars. Each professed love of a dog of a respective breed, but both were the same in their tackiness. (And this censure comes from someone who has photos of her cats as her wallpaper on her computer, mind you.)

I find the sentiment on these ribbons hokey at best and snobby at worst. I could laugh off seeing "I love my standard poodle" on a plain old bumper sticker. But the appropriation of "cause" ribbons as a vehicle for declarations of affection rubbed me the wrong way.

I've rolled my eyes aplenty at the host of cars bearing yellow ribbons or, worse, stars and stripes ribbons. I've laughed at the ribbons created to satirize the cause ribbon trend. Yet, seeing these "I love my dog" ribbon magnets made me inexorably defensive of the cause ribbon genre. My scoffs validated bearers of colored ribbons everywhere, but ONLY if they have a cause attached to their use. Loving a Welsh Corgi is not a cause; it's a preference (and an odd one at that, but whatever).

The "i love my dog" ribbons just seem to be a microcasm of an out-of-control consumer culture, which is willing to slap a slogan or logo on anything. And it further dilutes the point of colored ribbons. At one time, there were only red (for AIDS), pink (for breast cancer) and yellow (for supporting troops). And that was fine. That was noble—albeit passive activism.

But we can't leave well enough alone, can we?
I sure wish my family still had the guinea pigs we briefly owned. We started with two—a brother and a sister. Then, through no intervention on our part, there were four more. So I would definitely get a ribbon magnet that said "I love my spawn of incestous Abyssinian guinea pigs."

eco blogging tuesdayle papier

2006-10-17T13:51:00.000-04:00

Working in just about any office, you come across a lot of paper. When it's your job to produce printed pieces of work (publicity, newspapers, newsletters, etc), you can see even more paper. And you know the vast amounts of paper only serve a purpose for an hour, perhaps, or more likely a second before they're tossed—hopefully into a recycle bin.

According to the EPA, the average American consumes 700 lbs of paper every year, of that only 45% is recycled.

Sustainablity on a larger scale
To mitigate some of that eco-angst, look into more environmentally friendly printing (if you have the ability to make such decisions in your workplace). Re-nourish is a great site of resources for designers (or "regular" people) looking to print materials more sustainably.

It lists sustainable printing businesses, (for example Ecoprint, which is 100% wind-powered.) It explains how wood pulp is made into paper—and the toxic byproducts from the conventional process. The site also lists green design firms.

But what can I do?
Even if you're not a designer or looking to print large quantities of paper materials, you can find something useful on Re-nourish and perhaps integrate some of its principles into your paper-using habits.

Here's some paper-saving/reusing/rescuing ideas:

• Ever notice the insides of the envelopes from bills or important mail? They're patterned--differently. I've used these patterned pieces of paper to make cards. And they could work well for the scrappers out there.

• I collect used paper from the fax machine--the pieces with the transmission information, which only takes up, like, 2 inches. I later cut the paper down into uniform sizes and use them to make homemade notebooks.

• For those homemade notebooks, use old record albums. Or pieces of thin cardboard (that came in packaging) and then decorate.

• Shred papers with sensitive information and re-use it in place of new tissue paper when preparing a gift bag.

• Gift wrapping: Yes, there is some terrifically designed gift wrap out there. But, let's face it, it's incredibly wasteful. But you don't have to use the comics page as wrapping. I have used old maps, wallpaper samples and sewn fabric bags, which are reusable. Never underestimate using the clean side of a brown paper bag—and have fun decorating.

• Buy recycled paper for your computer printer. It's really not that much more.

So long, my hetero life mate—Leslie (less-lee...not lez-lee)

2006-10-14T15:40:00.000-04:00

I'm not one for endings.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Endings are new beginnings, changes come, blah-frickin'-blah. It doesn't make it any easier to say goodbye. And if you live in Ohio and you're under age 40, you find yourself saying goodbye to people moving away fairly often, it seems.

This is the SECOND best friend who ABANDONED ME for the west coast. (My pick-up line for potential friends is now 'So...staying in Ohio?') Yes, I should have never invited Leslie to visit Portland, Ore. with me a year ago. It reignited her love of the city, and tomorrow she is heeding its siren call.

The lump in my throat is starting, and I fear it; I need to ration my tears for depressive episodes or a crappy boyfriend. But how can I not grieve the loss of proximity of a close friend? Unlike Planner McPlannerson (me), Leslie was usually up for anything. Whether it was walking to the record store, planning a "Boogie Nights" party or moving furniture. Her proximity (um, the room next to mine) underscored the fact that she is always there for me. And I know, even if she's across the country, if I really needed her here, she'd be on a plane. Knowing that diminishes the distance.

I know you need this move, Leslie, and I hope it works out beautifully to be in such a fantastic city. I know we'll be in touch, but I will miss your rapid-fire elocution, our self-portraits, smacking yer ass, nice dinners, wardrobe advice, Dolby and your kindheartedness. You rock, sister.

Love, your babymama

iBlog

2006-10-12T23:39:00.000-04:00

My iPod didn't feel like my own until I loaded some Ani DiFranco on it.

The last few days have been a process of feminizing my new iPod. It didn't come straight from the Apple Store, glorious in its pristine blankness and 40 gigs (or whatever obscene amount of storage they're offering these days). I graciously took it in when my friend G orphaned it for a better model.

So I received a 15 gig iPod...with 13 gigs of music on it. It was a masculine iPod, albeit one full of personality. Inside was a soulful black man, greasy-haired pothead and '70s muscle car-driving dude, with apologetic stints of wearing black frame glasses. I was glad to be introduced to these guys. To get to know Neil Young a little more than his heart of gold. To appreciate the corroded tremor in Tom Waits' voice. To learn who Shuggie Otis was.

I'll keep 'em around, but they've got to know: My iPod is a woman's world.

My musical choices are not political. I don't listen to Ani because she's a feminist and so am I. I don't listen to women musicans more because they're women and I feel they are underepresented in the music industry--even though they are.

I just connect with female vocalists more. It's not even their words. (Have you listened to any Rilo Kiley lyrics?) I suppose it's just that instinctual gravitation toward your own kind. I don't think it's just me. While there are more men in music, most guys I know have collections featuring very few female vocalists. Women tend to have a smattering more of female vocalists/bands.

I started to go into postulating why this was, but then I realized 11:30 on a Thursday night was too late to be applying feminist theory. I think I'll just introduce Shuggie to Fiona and Neko and then call it a night.

eco blogging tuesdaykeep it clean

2006-10-10T00:19:00.000-04:00

Living with my roommate JaBitch a few years back, I did glean something besides an abiding fear of red heads in crappy Honda Preludes. In spite of all her condescension and lack of civility, the girl inadvertantly taught me about non-toxic house cleaning.

I've since tried to convert everyone. I've rhapsodized about vinegar here, and I'd like to introduce some more members of the green team.

Borax
This natural mineral compound is a disinfectant, deodorizer and mold inhibitor. You can use it to scrub toilets, tubs, sinks or mix a 1/4 cup with a 1/2 gallon of hot water to use as a general disinfectant/cleaner.
[Try this to avoid a potential carcinogen in Ajax or Comet—and possible bronchial and eye irritation]

Olive Oil
Use 1/4 cup of vinegear and add a few drops of oil (plus a couple drops of essential oil if you like) for a wood furniture polish.
[Try this to avoid petroleum-based solvents in conventional furniture polish]

Tea Tree Oil
This essential oil has natural antiseptic qualities. Add to vinegar and use as a general disinfectant, or use this mixture as an insect deterrent. (When we had a small ant party in our kitchen, I cleaned up with this and didn't have a problem with ants afterward.)
[Try this to avoid the chlorine in beach products]

Don't forget baking soda, which I mentioned in my post about vinegar. These five "ingredients"—plus a basic, liquid soap (not detergent)—are about all you need to clean your home. Different blending permutations of ingredients yield mixtures suited for various household surfaces.

Often, being eco-friendly can hurt the pocketbook, but this is one area in which you will save money by going green. There's a growing number of eco-friendly cleaning products out there, and they can be enticing (as enticing as cleaning products can be). Of course, they are the superior option to conventional products, but using homemade cleaning solutions uses far less packaging, which is more positive for the environment.

If you still want to stick with buying individual products, Green Seal has a good report, in which it identifies environmentally responsible general purpose cleaners. It tells you want to look for—and avoid—when buying cleaners.

Also check out Care2.com, which is where I culled some of the info for this post. It has various "recipes" for non-toxic cleaning and tips.

wonder

2006-10-08T21:00:00.000-04:00

My friend Matt enthusiastically expresses appreciation for many things in life. Often, he takes delighted notice in seemingly mundane or odd things. (As a child, he was profoundly intrigued by garage doors.)

Today, he proudly showed me his Mini Cooper, animatedly declaring, "And it's so cool: I go the car on Nov. 5—fifty years ago to the day that Marty McFly went back...to the future."

He can easily put the wonder back in life.

School Xing

2006-10-04T18:33:00.000-04:00

My best friend lived across the street from me in a brick ranch house, with vines curling up the façade. A path of circular cobblestones punctuated the grass and led up to the house. I hopped from slab to slab, squeezed by an overgrown shrub to reach the patio and waited for her dog to hurl itself against the door, announcing my presence.

This scene repeated itself myriad times from ages 5-14 because we walked to school every day.

That's why it seems absurd to me that October is National Walk-to-School Month. Logically, one would think it's a given that kids walk to school—unless they live too far away or are not served adequately by sidewalks. But, just through anecdotal observation, I've realized that's not the case.

The stats back me up. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, only 31 percent of children who live within a mile of their school walked or biked. (Compared to the late 1960s, in which 90 percent of those children did.)

The automobile has been cited as an isolating "innovation" and this is another effect. Frankly, people are lazy, hyper-reliant on cars and too permissive with their children. So, don't wonder why your kids are fat. Or spoiled.

Fear-mongering also factors into a lack of kids out walking to school. I can't begrudge a parent's concern for his/her child's safety. But, as a story in Salon notes, "Child-abduction terrors...reinforce a logical fallacy—'I won't let my kids walk because it's not safe; it's not safe because there aren't enough people walking.'"

Parents may fear their children will get hit by a car on their walk to school. Ironically, Salon writes, "Fifty percent of the children hit by cars near schools are hit by vehicles driven by parents of other students, according to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration."

So there's no programs like Safe Routes, which organizes the International Walk to School Month, to take back the crosswalks. And I guess that's good because, obviously, awareness has to be increased about the benefits of walking to school. On that note, I find it depressing that there's a need to do so at all and that walking to school has to become an activist issue.

eco blogging tuesdayknow your H2O

2006-10-03T06:37:00.000-04:00

Water seems so simple, so natural, but, really, we know better. If it was so pristine, there would be no need for Eco-blogging Tuesdays.

Because of the the current ubiquity of bottled water, both community water systems and bottled water manufacturers have been under scrutiny as of late in the attempt to determine which is better—tap water or bottled water? Allow me to distill for you (har har) some of the information about both types of water suppliers.

What's on tap?
According to the National Resources Defense Council (NRDC), tap water is better regulated and tested for purity than bottled water. "But your tap water's quality still depends on how well your watershed and aquifers are protected, how effectively water is treated to remove pollutants and the condition of the pipes that bring it into your home," says an article in Natural Home.

To see a water quality report in your municipality, you can go here to find it. The 2005 city of Akron report says "drinking water provided by Akron Public Utilities Bureau meets by a wide margin the current USEPA and OEPA regulatory requirements."

If you find it difficult to parse the water quality reports or are skeptical about them, use this info to make sense of them. It notes that the EPA's standards have certain weaknesses. For instance, some contaminants (radon, many pesticides) are not regulated and may be in your water.

Hitting the bottle
So is bottled water any better for you? The companies that manufacture it would sure have you believe so. "While most of the tested waters [of the NRDC scientific study] were found to be of high quality, some brands were contaminated: about one-third of the waters tested contained levels of contamination -- including synthetic organic chemicals, bacteria, and arsenic -- in at least one sample that exceeded allowable limits under either state or bottled water industry standards or guidelines." Again, bottled water is subject to much less rigorous testing than tap water. For example, bottled water rules allow for some contamination by E. coli or fecal coliform. Refer to this chart, which shows the contamination levels of the 130 brands tested.

In people's avoidance of tap water, they may be unknowingly consuming it anyway because about 1/4 of bottled water is actually just tap water (e.g. Pepsico's Aquafina brand is treated tap water). The NRDC's biggest point of contention in their extensive study is that bottlers are not held to high enough regulations. This compromises safety and consumer awareness. Indeed, the bottle water industry actively fights against right-to-know requirements for consumers of bottled water. It's in the interest of the corporations—do I need to say that means it's not always in the interest of the people, then?

Giving up the bottle
I am not a proponent of bottled water. Not only for the reasons above, but for the fact that relying on bottled water diminishes resources and creates so much waste. Says the article in Natural Home: "It takes more than 1.5 million barrels of oil a year to make enough PET plastic water bottles for ther American market, according to the Earth Policy Institute. Even though PET plastic is recyclable in many locations, about 90 percent of used bottles end up in landfills."

My recommendation is to use a water filter for tap water. NRDC recommends using one that is NSF-certified. Or, if you prefer to buy bottled, purchase one of those five gallon jugs of water, whose source you've researched.

sunday evening cat blogging

2006-10-01T22:17:00.000-04:00

(She puked up her dinner tonight.)

Craft Lady

2006-09-28T21:42:00.000-04:00

Don't let the title of this post fool you. I spend waaaaay more time contemplating crafting than I do actually crafting. And the Internet fuels my seldom-executed crafting fascination. It is serendipitious, I suppose, that both blogs and hip crafting culture emerged at the same time, and, so presently, there are many great crafty resources and inspiration online.

If you are a crafter (or an appreciator of craft), check out the following:

A bird in the hand Lisa Congdon has received some well-deserved accolades of late for creations and general creativity.

Whip Up culls posts from several craftsters out there, from a variety of craft "genres": sewing, knitting, ceramics, felting, jewelry-making, etc.

Craft: is the new kid on the block, with a print pub (out in Oct.) and blog to boot. Not to mention that there's usually several updates a day (so good for serial net surfers).

I just found One-hour Craft, and it taunted me with its post on fabric wall panels that I totally had the idea to do—about three years ago. The thing is, it would be sooo easy.

I like to visit Dioramarama occasionally; she mostly covers quilting, a craft that awes me, but has been doing some knitting as of late.

For inspiration, print and pattern is an awesome blog. I love it, but I don't visit it everyday. All of the stunning and vibrant patterns shown make me feel like I'll implode. All the creativity gives me an inferiority complex.

For both inspiration and possible purchases, check out Etsy. Crafters sell everything from art to purses to jewelry to homemade bath bombs. A lot of great stuff here, but some mediocrity, too.

One Etsy seller is Michelle Caplan, who is an amazing collage artist.

making sense of cleveland

2006-09-27T07:21:00.000-04:00

Tonight I dined with a friend who is moving to Las Vegas this weekend. My roommate—she defects for Portland in two weeks. And so it goes for Northeast Ohio.

Ever so timely, then, that last night I should watch Cleveland: Confronting Decline in an American City, which I mentioned would be showing on Sept. 28 at 8 pm on WVIZ. (Defector roommate was sent a review copy, natch.)

Does anyone under the age of 45 know that Cleveland wasn't always a joke? In the 1930s, it was a "thriving industrial mecca" and the fifth largest city in nation. But faster than you can say "Turn blue, knif," the ominous music begins.*

After WW2, the exodus out of Cleveland began. And it hasn't stopped.

From Tremont to...Parma?
Inner ring suburbs, baby, that's where they went—if not out of the region altogether. Industry soon followed to suburbia—if not to China, et al.—as well as commercial business. It didn't take too long for people to start to migrate toward the outer ring suburbs—like Westlake.

Unlike a more viable city, metropolitan Cleveland has "sprawl without growth," as the documentary put it. The decline of a city will affect the region, too, as people gravitate toward the next new thing. The documentary makes an example of Euclid Square Mall, in a suburb itself. The mall is now a wasteland but was once a bustling center; people and businesses have abandoned it for bigger and better.

This little blight of mine
Without the people and business at the core, Cleveland crumbled—quite literally. (Cue myriad shots of dilapidated buildings and barren lots.) And the film astutely observed the excess of parking lots in Cleveland as the "heart of the city scarred with asphalt"

The outflux of people and money has also had an immensely detrimental effect on city schools. People in NEOhio know Cleveland schools suck, but many may not see the correlations that the film makes. The schools are a symptom—albeit a nasty one—of a larger problem.

"The comeback city" campaign of the early '90s won Cleveland a modicum of respect, but it failed to address core issues—like the schools. Seemingly, it put a band-aid on an emergency room injury.

The House of Blues will save us
In a film titled to be about "confronting decline," there's an awful lot of exposition about the decline itself. Still, there are glimpses of hope of how to start to reverse it, glimpses and ideas we so desperately need.

A little too optimistically, it rhapsodizes about the potential of the House of Blues to stimulate Cleveland—as well as the investment in the E. 4th St. area. And, of course, there's talk of needing to lure younger adults to Cleveland. (But it does acknowledge that all ages and kinds are needed to create a vibrant city.)

The film highlights the revival of a Hough neighborhood and a large business that chose to stay in the city, rather than fleeing to the 'burbs.

Epilogue
Overall, I came away with a dejected feeling. My [defector] roommate summed it up well. "We all know what's wrong but don't know how to fix it." What can the individual person do? The problem is so overwhelming that it's difficult to get a grasp. There are lists of "100 things you can do to help the environment." Similarly, we need "100 things you can do to help Cleveland" list.

eco blogging tuesdaythe litter riddle

2006-09-26T07:21:00.000-04:00

I know I'd probably earn my title as resident cat lady ten times over if I trained my cats to do their business in the toilet. But, if you're a cat owner, you have to see the obvious advantage. NO STINKY LITTER BOX.

I'm not going to endorse cats using toilets (and I'm not going to condemn it either). But I will send you to a recent post about the eco ramifications of cat litter. I found it on Eco Worrier, which is a column in The Times (in the UK). (I would probably read the column just for its clever—and so apt—name, but I've also found good insights there.

Back to cat litter. I've been using Fresh Step for a couple years now because it seems to work well enough, esp. when there are four cats in the house. I hate the dust that billows up from it when I clean the boxes, though, and usually try to wear a dust mask. Good thing I have been. According to Eco Worrier, dust in the clay of scoopable cat litter is carcinogenic.

Oh not to mention that the cats ingest the clay when licking their cute little paws, and it can form a solid mass in their intestines, causing problems. Oh, and, according to Natural Home magazine, roughly 1.5 million tons of clay are mined annually for kitty litter; much is strip mined, which destroys land and habitat.

Crap. (pun intended) I hadn't given a lot of thought to cat litter before. I did try Yesterday's News, which is made from old newspapers. But I was not a fan.

Eco Worrier and some of her readers recommend World's Best Cat Litter. And it has a great customer rating on PetSmart.com. It's made from corn. And it clumps, is flushable and biodegradable. Boo-ya!

I think I'll try it.

to catch a thief

2006-09-24T20:49:00.000-04:00

I wanted to start by saying that I'm not a thief. But I acknowledge that would be stretching the truth, as I recall the utensils, mugs, menus, etc I took from Denny's when I was in high school. Oh, and construction signs from the road. And, um, orange barrells. (BTW, we put them back.)

That was all high school high jinks, though. It seemed trivial compared to peers' pilfering merchanise from stores. Pants, shoes, sporting equipment...kids took it all. One year my brother gifted a Yankee candle he'd stolen to my mom for Christmas. (And she worried he'd spent too much money on it!)

I can honestly say the only thing I've swiped from a store is a piece of candy from one of the self-serve bins. And I don't know what I tasted more--the Sunkist fruit gem I stole or the fear. The fear that an underpaid yet self-important Giant Eagle employee would condemn my action (and thus my youthful insouciance—and, by god, take anything from me but my youthful insouciance!)

I feared the consequences of a stolen fruit gem. Clearly, there's some paranoia operating here. I won't deny it.

At least I had a reason to fear. I performed a potentially reprehensible action. Explain then the paranoia that oft accompanies me when I'm shopping: The fear that the employees will think I stole something—even though I have not.

I mean, how do they know my thighs aren't clinging to a canteloupe or I haven't slipped Monistat 7 up my sleeve? It is their job to be suspcious. So it's my job to relieve them of their suspicion.

That's why I linger after trying something on in the dressing room that doesn't work. (Because if I left quickly, it might suggest I'd pulled five pairs of Spanx on under my skirt. And why have employees bother to consider that? Why?)

Also why I might concentrate on nonchalance—like I didn't do anything wrong. (Um, because I didn't.) I'll swing my arms, unzip my jacket and empty the contents of my purse onto the dirty lineoleum floor.

And then I look the salespeople straight in the eye and say (all with my highly emotive pupils and irises):
Kind sir (or ma'am), I am not a thief. I did not take any of this merchandise, which you probably pilfer yourself. And I know your manager probably told you only to be suspicious of loud, black people, but, just in case your manager isn't a racist, and you are skeptical of all types, know that I didn't steal. Because I'm good. I'm good. I'm good. And only a wee neurotic.

eco blogging tuesdaybehind the label

2006-09-19T00:11:00.000-04:00

Did you think just eating foods with the certified organic label would assuage your liberal guilt? Ha! That's what liberal guilt is for—to make you feel like you're not doing all you could.

We can make merry over the fact that organic foods are rapidly infiltrating the mainstream. People are finally getting it. They'll be more widely available. But organics are making their way to the marketplace in the same manner conventional food does.

Agribusiness as usual
There's "Big Pharma," "Big Oil," and now there's "Big Organic." A reader left me a link to this story in the New Yorker. The article observes "questions about quality, sustainability and business ethics" within the organic food industry. They're the same questions and criticisms people have held about the conventional food industry. But it seems implicit that the label "organic" represents an ideology—non-corporate, social justice-oriented, local and sustainable.

Take this into consideration: Earthbound Farm "grows more than seventy percent of all the organic lettuce sold in America." Yes, that means its 26 acres are free of toxic pesticides and fertilizers, and its tractors even use biodiesel. But Earthbound's food is sold in every state of the Union, meaning it's trucked there. The company also trucks compost in to its farms.

The good news is you're eating organic when you buy a Earthbound Farm (or other large organic company) product; the bad news is it's not making that much difference to the environment. Not to mention you could be supporting the big corporations you try to avoid (because many organic brands are owned by large companies).

And then there's the social justice angle.

Some sweat with your apple?
Organic farming is still business. It's most certainly business for the large companies, and, out of the need to compete, it becomes very business-oriented for smaller farmers. Labor is a primary way to cut costs. An article by Felicia Mello in The Nation notes "most workers on organic farms, like those on conventional farms, are immigrants from Mexico who earn minimum wage or slightly more and receive no benefits. Fieldwork on organic farms can be especially strenuous because farmers employ back-breaking methods like hand-weeding to avoid using pesticides."

While workers at organic farms avoid toiling around pesticides, they "often live in the same towns as conventional farmworkers, where...pesticide drift is an ever-present problem and the food available for purchase is likely to be high in fat and low in nutrients."

The future
"There is a small but growing campaign, backed by some of organic agriculture's staunchest supporters, for a new kind of food labeling, one that would guarantee that food is produced in ways that benefit workers as well as the environment," writes Mello. As the organic food industry becomes more ubiquitous and its business ethics exposed, we can hope this labeling campaign grows stronger.

But that still doesn't address the sustainability of "Big Organic." Gail Feenstra, a UC Davis researcher, "envisions a decentralized food network with people buying minimally processed food through direct markets, and schools and hospitals serving up organic meals made with ingredients from local farms," writes Mello. "'It's not just on the backs of organic growers to fix this thing,' [Feenstra] continues. 'It's going to take a long, slow shift to get us from a system that's hierarchical, with a few people controlling the resources, to one that's more disaggregated.'"

Oh, to dare to dream.

What can we do? Buy locally produced organic produce as often as you can—which is probably not very often, because to find both is pretty difficult around NE Ohio. (Still, refer to the Countryside Farmer's Guide I wrote about last week. It's a start.

weekender

2006-09-17T22:39:00.000-04:00

Man love

One of those things that can happen if you get drunk and pass out at a party

Birthday boy turns 15 this week

A blurry park is still a pretty park

ditto

inclined toward decline

2006-09-14T17:55:00.000-04:00

My reluctant news maverick of a roommate emailed me today about a documentary about Cleveland that comes out soon.

Cleveland: Confronting Decline in an American City is the second film in a film and educational outreach project Making Sense of Place. The documentary "traces the urban decay, and efforts at revitalization, in what was once America’s 5th largest city."

It is set to be aired by PBS stations nationwide, beginning with the Cleveland public television station WVIZ on September 28 at 8 p.m. EST and again on October 1 at 11 a.m. EST, in both instances to be followed by an in-studio discussion.

I'm marking my calendar.

eco blogging tuesdaybe a local yokel

2006-09-11T20:11:00.000-04:00

Since reading about it in the West Side Leader of all places, I've been waiting for the Cuyahoga Valley Countryside Conservancy to post its Countryside Harvest Guide.

The guide is "your resource for finding farm-fresh, locally grown produce and delicious foods made right here in Northeast Ohio." There's a Harvest Guide, Northeast Ohio Farm Directory, Farmers' Market Directory, Listing of area CSAs (Community Supported Agriculture) and a directory of restaurants that serve local food.

Driving through Ohio, you're bound to pass farm stands, but I sometimes hesitate because I'd like to buy organic produce in addition to local. (A tall order, I know, which--when you think about it--is actually absurd.) But the farm directory breaks it down.

So, for instance, I now know that the Crown Point Ecology Center sell certified organic produce at the Peninsula Farmers’ Market, which is on Saturdays, 9-noon until Oct. 7. And that there's two farms in Brecksville that sell free-range, uncertified organic eggs in addition to chicken and uncertified organic produce.

And I learned that there's a bevy of Cleveland-area restaurants that use local produce, but only two in Akron.

I can't say if these guides haven't overlooked some farms/restaurants, but it's great effort. Hopefully, the list will grow as more people realize the importance of eating local and organic.

weekend notes

2006-09-10T22:36:00.000-04:00

• After composing a long-winded TXT message, it's my fate that I will invariably press a button which disappears the message. (Thus I deprived snogash of a little chirpy beep, telling her that, yes, she has a TXT message. Snog, I hope your Saturday was still fulfilling without a msg from me.)

• Not Another Date Movie: probably not as funny if I was sober.

• My ass can just NOT rock a pair of tight capri pants.

• When will I learn not let a writing assignment hang over my head, when I know that I'm not going to do it at the last minute? And that's just fine because I write better then anyway.

• Check and see if there's an OSU game on next time I plan to go to a bar.

• Coventry Village: not what it used to be.

• According to the outfits of American Apparel employees, terry cloth headbands are totally in.

• Fast Food Nation has gotten me pumped about reading again.

reasons why I feel old

2006-09-08T08:07:00.000-04:00

Jonathan Taylor Thomas is 25 years old today.

he kinda looks like my roommate Robbie--with hair.

eco-blogging tuesdayFarewell to Teflon

2006-09-05T00:06:00.000-04:00

Eco-blogging Tuesday® is a new feature at Lover's Quarrel. I intend to usually write the posts, but today I spontaneously nurtured friendships instead of doing what I planned—which included writing the first eco-blogging tuesday post. But I decided to forge ahead anyway, after I found this article (originally at Huffington Post on June 13, 2006) by Nora Ephron. You've Got Mail aside, she's a witty dame. Here's her Farewell to Teflon

I feel sad about Teflon.

It was great while it lasted.

Now it turns out to be bad for you.

Or, put more exactly, now it turns out that a chemical that's released when you heat up Teflon is in everyone's blood stream -- and probably causes cancer and birth defects.

I loved Teflon.

I loved the no-carb ricotta pancake I invented last year, which can be cooked only on Teflon. I loved my Teflon-coated frying pan, which makes a beautiful steak. I loved Teflon as an adjective; it gave us a Teflon president (Ronald Reagan) and it even gave us a Teflon Don (John Gotti, whose Teflon-ness eventually wore out, making him an almost exact metaphorical duplicate of my Teflon pans). I loved the fact that Teflon was invented by someone named Roy J. Plunkett, whose name alone you might have thought would have insured Teflon against becoming a dangerous product.

But this year DuPont, who makes polytetrafluoroethylene (PTFE) resin, which is what Teflon was called when it first popped up as a laboratory accident back in 1938, reached a $16.5 million settlement with the Environmental Protection Agency; it seems the company knew all along that Teflon was bad for you. It's an American cliché by now: a publicly-traded company holds the patent on a scientific breakthrough, it turns out to cause medical problems, and the company knew all along. You can go to the bank on it.

But it's sad about Teflon. Teflon wasn't really good when it first came onto the market. The pans were light and skimpy and didn't compare to copper or cast iron. They were great for omelettes, and of course, nothing stuck to them, but they were nowhere near as good for cooking things that were meant to be browned, like steaks. But then manufacturers began to produce Teflon pans that were heavy-duty, and you could make a steak that was as dark and delicious as one made on the barbecue. Unfortunately, this involved heating your Teflon pan up to a very high temperature before adding the steak, which happens to be the very way perfluoroctanoic acid (PFOA) is released into the environment. PFOA is the bad guy here, and DuPont has promised to eliminate it from all Teflon products by 2015. I'm sure that will be a comfort to those of you under the age of forty, but to me it simply means that my last years on this planet will be spent, at least in part, scraping debris off my frying pans.

Rumors of Teflon have been circulating for a long time, but I couldn't help hoping they were going to turn out like the rumors of aluminum, which was suspected (back in the nineties) of causing Alzheimer's. That was a bad moment, since never mind giving up aluminum pots, it would also have meant giving up aluminum foil, disposable aluminum baking pans, and most crucial of all, anti-perspirants. I rode out that rumor, and I'm pleased to report that it went away. (So has my memory, but I think that's a coincidence.)

But this rumor is clearly for real:

A few days ago, Marian Burros, the incontrovertible food writer for the New York Times, announced that she had moved her Teflon pans to her basement. I notice that she did not throw them out (which I'm going to have to do, since I have no basement). She tested a zillion other pots and made a trillion omelettes, and she wrote that the black enamel frying pan made by Le Creuset was as good as Teflon and even managed to cook eggs that didn't stick. Today I am going to go out and attempt to buy one. My guess is that there are none left in the city of New York.

After I find one, and not a moment before, I will throw my Teflon pans away. Meanwhile, this morning, I am going to make one last ricotta pancake breakfast:

Beat one egg, add 1/3 cup fresh whole-milk ricotta and whisk together. Heat up a Teflon pan until carcinogenic gas is released into the air. Spoon pancakes onto the frying pan and cook about three minutes on one side, until brown. Carefully flip. Cook for another minute to brown the other side. Eat with jam, if you don't care about carbs, or just eat unadorned. Serves one.

the office

2006-09-01T11:45:00.000-04:00

Today, a delicious part of my day (minus the 10 a.m. hour of chomping on peanut butter M&Ms) was flipping through the Office Max catalog.

I had a purpose: find a new gel wrist rest. The lycra on my current one has stretched out, much like the ass of a bathing suit after a couple seasons. (Not to mention said M&M crumbs, et al., are mashed into said lycra.)

Oh, but I was seduced by retractable gel needle point pens and all means of desktop storage! It was so easy to lose myself in this little black book for sluts of organization.

I've always been kinda slutty for office supplies (and work). Who else, at age ten, revels in receiving paper clips and file folders for his/her birthday? Those gifts came in at the height of my office-playing days. It was not just some passing fancy, either, but a good few years of office "work."

I guess all of my early practice stamping, filing and scheduling solidified my destiny to work in an office for the rest of my life. Granted, the bulk of my work is not the administrative kind, though I do actually enjoy that part—the paperwork so many curse.

Now excuse me, I have some forms to fill out...

to-do list

2006-08-31T08:00:00.000-04:00

- Use the fabric steam cleaner I bought a month ago. (This is exciting for me.)

- Finish sewing curtains for my bedroom.

- Send something to Spain.

- Power walk.

- Plant spinach.

- Find a class to take.
May need some help on this. Anyone know if I can sit in on a university class for free or something? It has to be evenings, though. I need intellectual stimulation.

- Buy new glasses.

- Work on Katherine and Ben's aniversary present (Aniversary was July 13.)

- Make some friends who aren't keen on getting the hell out of NE Ohio.

- Develop a dislike of chicken.

- Convince parents Israel is safe to visit.

how many is too many?

2006-08-29T22:43:00.000-04:00

...cats, that is.

An interesting (and applicable to my life) Ask MetaFilter question: How many cats is too many.

Many responders agreed with this reply:

One or two is reasonable. Three and you're a little odd. Four is borderline weird-o. Five is certifiable craziness.

There's also:

0-2 normal.
3-4 cat lover.
5-6 Excessive. Suspicion that the owner may have abandonment issues :)
7+ Warning bells. Person at risk of a lonely death with only feline companions who have overrun the house, and will feed on the corpse when the catfood runs out.

1 less than enough to smell.

I agree. My roommates and I have four cats between us (though in a big house) and, thank jeebus, our house does not smell.

No one mentioned anything about cat hair. I would say 'only so many cats that make you vacuum no more than once a week.'

who's got the crack

2006-08-28T17:33:00.000-04:00

Ok, my voice is cracking its way to husky sexiness, at least.

Today, someone told me whispering stresses the vocal chords more than trying to speak (with accompanying creaks and fizzles). Interesting. Or perhaps the alleged sage just wanted me to sound as much like a freak as possible.

loss

2006-08-27T21:15:00.000-04:00

Last year right before Art in the Square, I lost an ovary. This year, a day before the festival, I lost my voice. (I'm guessing, though, that, unlike my ovary, my voice will return. But it has been gone for three days so far so I'm growing a tad concerned.)

I'm capable of whispering. And emphatic gesticulations. This evening, to express laughter, I slapped my knee repeatedly. It's all so middle-school-summer-theater-camp-exercises.

Wide-eyed pantomiming aside, I feel so boring. I can't talk to people! I sit and smile encouragingly. I nod. I frown. Sure, it's an excuse to avoid small talk, but those awkward moments that are so easily filled with conversation are just more awkward. A lack of a voice also increases my wallflower tendencies. Long the observer, I'm relegated to the role, even if I wanted to participate.

The last three days has been a lesson in empathy, though, too, because my temporary predicament is a permanent fact of life for many people.

my mood utterly changed to nostalgic joy

2006-08-20T18:35:00.000-04:00

I have this thing about crayons. They evoke such ardent nostalgia. I know I'm not the only adult who can derive fleeting contentment from a whiff of Crayolas. But I also recall, with great fondness, a clip from Sesame Street about how crayons are made. When I was young, I found it the most fascinating, visually compelling process. It sure beat the noodle-making clip.

Today, I stumbled across the clip. YouTube made my day.

mopey

2006-08-20T12:19:00.000-04:00

I feel rejected. Yesterday rejected our months of work. The weather rejected our romantic dreams. And we're forced to settle for the nice, predictable but less enchanting Aug. 26. A second choice is difficult to get excited about, even when you know it's for the best.

Could we have had Art in the Square yesterday? Sure, but many artists would have pulled out. They didn't want to set up in the rain and risk damage to their art. Also, not as many people would have come out for the event when the weather was crappy.

It was such a difficult decision to postpone Art in the Square until next Saturday. The Friday event at the Highland Theater went wonderfully, and the energy for the supposed festival the next day swelled. We had money invested in the event's being Aug. 19. Not to mention time. Our chief coordinator spent hours and hours of time on the event, including lots of time literally stalking people to get signatures so we could close Market Street. It was such a plus to have gotten the street closed.

Now we'll have to recapture that energy for next week. The artists will be there. Most of the bands will be there. I hope you'll be there, too.

Art in the Square POSTPONED until Saturday, Aug. 26

2006-08-19T09:28:00.000-04:00

Damn this Ohio weather!

Please re-mark your calendar for Saturday, Aug. 26. We wont' be able to close the street, but we'll figure out something.

fresh find

2006-08-16T23:17:00.000-04:00

Preparations for Art in the Square have depleted blogging time, but I want to share this cool find. Fresh Yarn is the "online salon for personal essays."

Each month they feature six new essays, but there are plenty of archived essays to catch up on. The site also lists book recommendations—for books of personal essays, of course. Cool.

Rt. 2

2006-08-13T22:05:00.000-04:00

Eric Clapton still lords over Route 2, and this makes me happy.

Every time I travel between Huron and Cleveland, there's a quick sequence of three or four bridges. Because I don't travel the route very often, I never remember on which bridge the graffiti is—the sloppily sprayed "Clapton is God."

So at first, I think I've missed it or maybe it's gone, after years and years. This thought disappoints me, though it's silly. I suppose it's something to look for in an otherwise boring landscape. And it's the comfort of knowing that some things don't change.

It's still there, the graffiti. It's quite faded though, weather-eroded to the point that you have to search for it. It doesn't jump out at drivers. Clapton is a subtle god now.

art in the square

2006-08-09T22:01:00.000-04:00

If you are a [fairly] consistent reader of this blog and live within 40 miles of Akron and you don't come to Art in the Square on Saturday, Aug. 19, I will punish ALL of my blog readers by posting nothing but pictures of my cats for a month straight. That's right.

What the hell is Art in the Square? Well, I live in Highland Square—which contains no titular square, btw. And this is our third annual art festival, in which we feature mainly artists who live in Highland Square. (Other communities, they have to ship in their artists. We, we have them all here.) This year, there will be over 50 artists of various media, along with musical acts like Goodmorning Valentine, the Rachel Roberts Family Band, Goodbye Ohio and the House Popes. Oh, and bellydancing. Yes.

We're closing down W. Market Street, from Portage Path to Casterton, because this MUCH FUN needs plenty of SPACE. The festival is from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. on Aug. 19, but there's a kick off event on Aug. 18 at 8 p.m. Join us at the Highland Theater for a showing of "The Grizzled Wizard of Waste-not, Want-not"--a documentary about Akron "junk artist" PR Miller.

If you have any questions, let me know.

El barfo

2006-08-07T22:38:00.000-04:00

the excitement in my parents' livesknows no limit

2006-08-06T23:03:00.000-04:00

tonguing

2006-08-05T18:34:00.000-04:00

On an NPR news report today, the correspondent was reporting about something newsworthy in Columbia. She tackled a few Spanish names with such aplomb that it sent my brain on a tangent about diction, (hence my only being able to tell you the report was about "something newsworthy.")

She sounded like a native English speaker, but she seemed to lapse into fluent Spanish when pronouncing the Spanish words. Ok, fine, she probably knows the language fluently.

But the sharp juxtaposition of fluid Spanish words plopped into clunky English made me think. Is it more appropriate to correctly pronounce a foreign word/name, if you know how, or stick with conventional, Americanized pronunication?

Proper pronunciation of foreign words can imply fluency in that language—or at least that word. But it can be potentially alienating. Hey, look at me, I know the right way to say this word, you honkies can bite me.

However, even if there are not native speakers of whatever language around, proper pronunciation validates that language and its speakers. The significance of which intensifies if you have ever been to a foreign country in which citizens speak fluent English (and how many other languages) and you can barely muster "please show me the bathroom" in their native tongue.

It's all about audience, I suppose. It seems perfectly standard for NPR to correctly pronounce foreign words, and perfectly standard for Fox News to not. Similarly, when I'm with my friends, I would say "I have the Croque Monsieur. But if I was with my dad's family, I'll say "Gimme the Crock Mister, please." Because I'm an outcast enough in that family.

mega doesn't bite

2006-08-03T22:06:00.000-04:00

As of late, I've rebuffed the blogosphere for the following: work, Art in the Square*, sleep and travel. My traveling has, unfortunately, been condensed versions. Because apparently this blogger thinks 24 hours is ample time to sample Chicago. Was it still worth it? Sure.

I left for Chicago on Sunday morning with two friends, who were headed to the last day ofPitchfork Music Festival. I wasn't quite sure what I would do, but I hoped it would involve finding unique, adorable clothing and/or shoes that I couldn't find in Ohio. We took Mega Bus.

Part of me signed on to the trip just to take this bus. Because it's budget travel, I envisioned splendid misshaps and characters to later recount. But, as one of my travel companions noted, the bus drivers are bigger characters than the passengers.

The journey to the land of hot jazz and deep dish pizza was rather uneventful. Sleepiness subsumed my devious scheming to steal our driver's stash of beef jerky. (Not to eat the beef jerky, but just because.)

The bus was similar to a Greyhound bus. A little more rickety, and the forced whimsy of the upholstery patterns didn't disguise the prickly acryllic of the seats.

Perhaps it's my Super Senser qualities, but the entire back of the bus smelled like a urinal. The whole trip. I risked dehydration just to avoid having to use it.

It didn't matter how much water I drank during the trip; it was just so flippin' hot. I could describe the heat more, but we're all pretty bored of the comparisons by now. Despite the heat, many of the hipsters who populated the bus on the ride home still wore their skinny-leg jeans. (C'mon, just Clap Your Hands and Say...No.)

Round trip, Mega bus cost me $55. But I only booked it 5 days in advance. If you plan ahead, you can book it for as little as a dollar. Seriously.

One of my friends wrote about the trip here. In his defense, any choppiness was edited into the story. He can't write a short sentence to save his [postmodern] life..

* Plug: Art in the Square: a festival featuring Highland Square artists, Saturday, Aug. 19 from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m.

got, got, got no time...

2006-07-26T22:46:00.000-04:00

...to write.

But there are people bombing people and Dillards in Rolling Acres is closing soon, so I'll give myself a break here.

hard rock life

2006-07-23T12:57:00.000-04:00

It's not been a desire of mine to dine at a Hard Rock Café. (Ok, perhaps in fifth grade, it was, as I envied classmates' souvenir tee shirts—Hard Rock Dallas, Hard Rock Indianapolis...) Nevertheless, time and circumstance found me at the Hard Rock Café in Cleveland with one of my friends from high school.

If you haven't been to one in this chain, that's what it is: a chain. Like Applebee's but with rock videos playing on TV screens. My friend Hartman and I sat transfixed by Sammy Hagar, who is like a traffic wreck—you can't help but look,and Concrete Blonde (Joey, I'm not angry anymore.)

After drinks, Hartman presented me with a gift. From our other friend RGB and him. They purchased it at Bob Evans, which is cause for concern unless it's pie. Also cause for concern is the last time RGB and Hartman collaborated on a gift for me: Pimento ham loaf (even though I was a vegetarian at the time). This is what they got me:

Because especially Hartman thinks it's funny that I'll end up a cat-hair covered spinster (or that I am already). I only have two cats, dammit.

But, oh, this plaque will go so perfectly with my bonneted ceramic geese that I have in my mantle!! All hail Wedgewood blue.

woulda, coulda

2006-07-20T23:02:00.000-04:00

I would have written something else tonight for ye olde blog, but I spent entirely too much time on myspace, looking at everyone who went to my high school that has a myspace page.

It's very interesting how the demographic skews on myspace. Many people on it I barely knew of in high school and many on it were always on the periphery. The "big names" from high school are decidedly absent, but people from the fringes—many with kids of their own—dominate myspace.

Of course, people may have chosen not to list their high school on their profile. So it's interesting that all these high school "fringe people" affiliated with our high school on their profiles. Even though so many of them were alienated from or disliked high school.

* * *

The girl who chased me around the playground when I was in first grade, scaring the absolute living bejeebus out of me, now has four rugrats of her own.

alcohol interlude: big happy funhouse

2006-07-18T22:47:00.000-04:00

Have you seen this blog of found photos? It's swell.

She reminds me of something my ninth grade English teacher said about the actress who played Mayella in the play To Kill a Mockingbird that we saw: "She looks like she could eat an apple through a picket fence."

the first sip, part I

2006-07-16T22:21:00.000-04:00

Last night I did something I haven't done in a long time: I had low proof alcohol.

My friend JP apologized for her array of non-liquor store quality booze. We gulped down some slushy Strawberries & Cream mixed with cheap rum anyway, girded by the notion that it was necessary fuel for an '80s trivia game. After my unsuccessful recollection of the lyrics to the Different World theme song, JP lamented her lack of a buzz. I concurred.

I wish I could say that I drank alcohol purely for its exquisite taste (because that would make me seem so much better). But I don't. And I have a hunch (just a wee hunch, here) that most of you drinkers don't, too. It's definitely not to say that I haven't cultivated an appreciation for the taste of alcohol (well, wine, anyway).

I enjoy the first sips of a drink, feeling it buzz through my body. [While a potentially dangerous sentiment but obviously popular] I like how a drink or two takes off the edge—of life, living, working. So it was a bummer that Peels and their watery, sugary ilk didn't elicit this sensation. Somehow, all the filler in cheap drinks counteracts the alcohol. So when the alcohol content of four cheap drinks equals two "real" drinks (and should, theoretically, affect you similarly), you just feel bloated, not buzzed.

While the lack of a buzz didn't inhibit my ability to kick '80s pop culture trivia ass, the cheap alcohol did take me somewhere. A land far away, back when I was underage...and negotiating my first sips.

STAY TUNED for exciting tales (or seemingly exciting tales, rendered such by use of bombastic vocabulary) of UNDERAGE DRINKING.

dissonance

2006-07-16T12:01:00.000-04:00

When you think of poems, do you think of farts?

Apparently poem hunter does. Because the above ad is flashing garishly as I try to look for a poem on the site.

what am i supposed to do now?

2006-07-13T08:07:00.000-04:00

not actually grammar errors

pooh-pooh on "universally accepted."