Get your abortions while you can, ladies, because South Dakota was the first to fall and I’ll bet the rest of the Midwest is going to follow suit.
Given that several major abortion-related cases are going up before the Supreme Court this week, we may be facing a return to the days of back alley abortionists for the poor, and discreet women’s doctors for the rich.
Fight for your fucking rights, goddamnit, women!
I was very pleased to read last night that the state-sponsored murder of Michael Morales has been postponed indefinitely. It seems like a very positive step towards a death penalty moratorium in California, which is really exciting.
I am intrigued that the court demanded the presence of an anesthesiologist to ensure that Morales’ death wouldn’t be “cruel and unusual,” although one might argue that unwanted death is, in general, cruel and unusual.
I am extraordinarily proud of the as-yet unnamed anesthesiologists who declined to participate in the execution, although they originally agreed to it. It is pretty clear that doctor’s trade associations frown on physician participation in executions (although the guillotine was invented by a doctor, as a more humane mode of execution). It seems like professionals who take an oath which includes “first, do no harm,” would be in a sticky ethical dilemma overseeing an execution, and I’m glad that was recognized.
Although ensuring that Morales wouldn’t experience undue pain is a reasonable desire, it seems more reasonable to question the ethics of the death penalty in the first place. Michael Morales was convicted of raping and brutally murdering a white, attractive, 17 year old.
Somehow I think if he had performed the same crime on a black, attractive, 17 year old, that you wouldn’t be reading this post today. Because he wouldn’t have gotten the death penalty for it. This is a wrongness to me. I believe that murder is wrong, but I do not believe that murder should be answered with murder. I also do not believe that murder should be answered with further injustice. I am angry that the families of black and Latino murder victims don’t get the “closure” and “satisfaction” that white families do. It must be really frustrating to watch a system put men and women who share your ethnic group in prison for riling up white people. And to, in turn, watch that system do nothing when your family members are murdered. The system is broken if people who participate in identical crimes are not penalized equally.
Goddamnit, kids, the death penalty is wrong. Sometimes I think my father raised too much of a bleeding heart liberal, because I can’t comprehend thinking that it is right. I can’t comprehend a justification for the death penalty, and I am genuinely shocked and dismayed by advocates of the death penalty. I am embarrassed that I live in a total bleeding heart liberal state that isn’t as liberal as Iowa, for Pete’s sake, because Iowa doesn’t have the goddamn death penalty.
Please, can we stop murdering people? This is really getting frustrating, and it’s time for a moratorium, at the very least, preferably nation-wide, although I will settle for California. We have 649 inmates on Death Row, according to the Death Penalty Information Center. Could we remove the black cloud over the heads and put them back out among the general population with actual life sentences? The prison system in this country is in need of major reform, so I don’t think it’s the best authority for, you know, murdering people.
This morning I have a public service announcement for you, kids.
Please donate your organs. (When you are done using them.)
The organ donation system in the United States is far from perfect, but that doesn’t mean you should deny someone the gift of life. As someone who’s going to be needing a replacement organ at some point in my life, I can tell you that donating your organs is a superbly cool thing. Especially if you are young and strong and have an unusual blood type: someone, somewhere, could really make use of the body part that would be burned, preserved, buried, or whatever your plans are. I think it’s a really great idea to recycle at all levels, and the idea of a part of you helping someone else to live is really neat.
I would like to see some changes in the way organ donation and the waiting list are processed in the United States, to be certain. But part of the problem with the system is that there aren’t enough viable organs for all the recipients. Someone is going to lose out. The more people who donate, the more organs there will be. The more organs, the more reform, is the hope.
Your organs might not be usable, due to damage or age or not having a matched recipient, but it’s a good idea to fill out that donor card anyway. In some states, you can also specify that your body not be used for cosmetic purposes, if the thought of inflating someone’s lips or ass isn’t appealing to you. But your organs can also be used to save someone’s life–burn victims need skin, people of all ages need heart and kidney transplants, new livers and lungs, corneas. So think about it. Talk it over with those who might be having to make decisions at the end of your life, and decide for yourself if you want the chance to save someone’s life.
A few years ago, I attended the funeral of a young man I went to high school with. In an utterly bizarre series of events, he was killed in a car accident. A totally innocent bystander, but totally dead nonetheless. He was airlifted and medical personnel attempted to save him, but it was determined he couldn’t survive without life support. His family decided to withdraw support, but also to donate his organs. One of his organs was designated for a family friend, who wrote a touching letter which was read at the funeral thanking him for his gift. His other viable organs were distributed to those in need, another of whom also wrote a letter of thanks. The end of his life was a tragedy–the thought that his heart still beats somewhere in the heart of a young person is the silver lining.
Organ donation: all the cool kids are doing it.
I usually peruse sfgate in the morning, to get an idea of what’s going on in the world. Especially when you work in the service industry, it’s a good idea to be able to say “oh and I hear the weather down there has been awful!” or “there was a great article in the Chron about the neighborhood street fair, did you go to that?” It makes people feel all warm and fuzzy and important inside. Furthermore, reading the Chronicle allows me to pretend for a few moments that I don’t live in a vacuum.
However, reading the Chronicle comes with perils. I had to stop getting the print edition because the letters to the editor and that damn right wing piece of shit columnist they have for balance were raising my blood pressure. By reading the online edition, I can usually skirt the “journalism” that I know will offend me for sheer stupidity. However, I do now and then like to read about the stupid things people do (otherwise I would have no idea what was going on in this nation, politically). So this morning I read an article about atheists.
So here’s the thing, about me, as the reader. I was baptized Eastern Orthodox. I consider myself currently to be agnostic. I think that Jesus Christ was a really excellent person, and that his lessons of love and respect for fellow men should have been taken to heart. I think it’s unfortunate that Jesus was persecuted and ultimately murdered for being who he was. I usually observe the Lenten fast. However, I also think that Mohammad was a very interesting person, and I especially am fond of his beliefs about kindness to animals. (A tale about Mohammad says that one afternoon, when getting up to teach lessons, he realized that his cat Muezzin had fallen asleep on his sleeve. Rather than disturb the cat, he cut off his sleeve.) I also, however, think that the lessons of Buddha are very important. I think you get my point. I wouldn’t term myself an atheist, because I am hesitant to reject the existence of God, and I have a great deal of admiration for the prophets. But I can sympathize with the atheist position, and I would like to see a truly secular government, for the sake of the many religions that coexist here.
So here I am. Reading the atheist article. And being, quite frankly, disgusted. Because there’s a movement among the atheist community that wants to liken being atheist to being gay or lesbian, Jewish or black. The author of the article seemed sympathetic to the cause as well: “30 of the Bay Area’s “out” atheists were recasting themselves as the protagonists of America’s newest civil rights struggle…As they described the strain of being openly atheistic in an increasingly religious culture…”
So look people, here’s the thing.
I don’t think it is reasonable for atheists to compare themselves to gays and lesbians pre-Stonewall. I don’t think it’s ok for them to compare themselves to gays and lesbians now. Because to my knowledge, nowhere in the United States will an atheist be killed for being atheist. Nowhere in the United States is “coming out” as an atheist a dangerous political act which could be life-threatening. Atheism is a choice. You can’t readily identify an atheist by looks, like you can an African-American or a member of the Hispanic community. Atheists were not enslaved by upper class white assholes in the 1800s. Atheists are not being paid under the table to clean the houses of upper class white assholes today.
“Atheist” does not carry the same social connotations that “dyke” does, and I’m sorry kids, but that’s the way it is. We don’t need an “atheist pride” movement, because atheists are not being oppressed, damnit.
Now, I may occasionally make fun of overt religious gestures in the United States, and bitch with good nature about religious symbolism in the government, and I am bothered that conservative Christian morals are dictating the actions of much of our legislature. But I do not think that the United States is excessively religious. We do not exist under Sharia. No one is being put to death for not believing in the state religion. There are not ghettos filled with atheists anywhere in the United States, to my knowledge. And yes, most of the members of our government are religious, and most of those religions are sects of Christianity, and that’s because traditionally in the United States, that’s where the base of power is seated. That’s because, yes, if you run as an atheist in the Bible Belt, you will not win. But you don’t really need to fake it, either. I don’t see most of our government behaving in a very Christian way, after all.
I think sometimes people forget that when someone says “I will pray for you” or “God bless you,” that it is meant ultimately as a gesture of love. I am not in the least offended when conservative Christians tell me they will pray for me in regards to my bisexuality. I am honored that they would offer a prayer to their God on my behalf, and I hope that in their communion with God, wisdom will be exchanged. Prayer is a private matter between God and the supplicant, and who am I do dismiss someone’s choice of personal communion?
And I am really not a fan of this white middle class “I want to be oppressed too!” trend that I see going on. Because you know what? We aren’t being oppressed. We have it pretty fucking good. We get lines of credit (at dangerously high interest rates which border on usury for the lower middle class), decent jobs, and a lot of social power. Us white ladies have a little harder, but we’re not doing as badly as, say, the Mexican cleaning ladies at one of my previous jobs. I don’t understand why the white middle class is so into being oppressed. I really don’t. Conversations with my African-American friends have me pretty well convinced that social oppression sucks, in every sense of the word. Even when you are participating in a pride movement, even when you are fighting for your civil rights. Black is beautiful, but sometimes white is a lot simpler. While I don’t regret being obviously marked as “youth” and participating in youth movements, I’m stoked that I am capable of passing now. That doesn’t make me any less dedicated to working for youth rights, but it does mean I can have a respectable job and make some money while I do it. I had a taste of social stigma, and found the flavour decidedly not to my liking. At least my other social kinks are not as obvious to the eye, so I can pick and choose who knows about them–which is, yes, a conscious choice to avoid oppression, but it’s also because every facet of my being doesn’t need to be on display all the time. I don’t need to be forcing my out and proud self on others constantly or be labeled a traitor to the movement. All of the aspects of my personality make me who I am, but all of them don’t need to be on display all at once. (Which is good because it would make dressing every day a nightmare.) Sometimes it is better to exercise your freedoms in respectful ways. I take my shoes off when entering a mosque, even though I am not Muslim. I don’t feel oppressed in the process. In order to function as a society, sometimes individual members must make personal sacrifices for the common good, and those do include being respectful of others. I have never been treated in a disrespectful way by a Christian, even when engaging in religious dialogue. I’m sure others have, and that is unfortunate. But the way to combat that is not found in being a dick about religion.
While I’m sure that in deeply religious parts of the country, being overtly atheist may be a bit uncomfortable, out here on the coasts we don’t really care all that much about your religious leanings. But there are an alarming number of people, even on the coasts, who are troubled by queers and blacks. Especially black queers. Thems dangerous! Do we remember when Gwen Arujo was killed? Good. If you’re so into being oppressed, maybe you can come back as Kurdish in your next life, ok? Oh, wait, you don’t believe in next lives.
Just get over yourselves, my fellow honky friends. Our time for oppression is not now, unless the black power movement makes some serious strides in the next few years. Or the lesbian liberation front pulls out a serious can of whupass. Instead of whining about your oppression, why don’t you go and see if there’s something you can do for people who are, you know, actually oppressed, ok?
Probably no one else remembers this book. Being an insatiable book nerd and growing up at the feet of someone connected with the publishing world, later working in books myself, I am acutely aware of every trendy book that has ever been published in the last twenty years. Especially trendy pop psychology, because it sells well where I live.
Anyway. I was thinking today, not about this book, but about letting things go.
I recently gave up two things where were dear to my identity, and expensive when I bought them. But they had outlived their usefulness. One of them I got money for, which pleased me. The other I just ended up giving away.
It was a weird moment. Here was this thing, this expensive and recalcitrant thing, that had been with me and been used every day for six years, and I just handed it to someone else and said “here, have fun.” It was kind of a cool moment, though. This thing has been replaced by another thing, so I wasn’t using it. And I had a friend who needed one, and I thought well, I could sell it to him. But that wouldn’t really be cool. I mean I could get some money out of it, but I was just going to hang onto it forever. I should just give it to him. And so I did.
“Uh, you know,” I said, “you can just have my old one. I’m not really using it.”
“Really,” he said. “Are you sure? You could sell it.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but I’d rather see it go to someone who needs it and will use it well.”
It had more frequent flyer miles that most businessmen. It had been on three continents. And it was time to let it go to someone who would use it and appreciate it as much as I did. So I handed it on.
How many things are you keeping around your house that someone else could be using? How many of those things are going to end up being thrown away in a couple of years when you move again and can’t figure out what to do with them? The Chronicle had an interesting article recently about a group who decided to buy nothing new (other than food and personal sanitation items) in 2006. I’ve already broken the rules, but it did make me think about recycling belongings and spreading the love around more. I think that part of a zero waste goal is ensuring that things which are still usable do get used, even if not by you. There’s something great about handing something to someone in person. I could bring things to charities and let them distribute them, but I would prefer to have a history of my former belongings that I can log and follow, see in a mesh of connections. It would be neat to see parts of the thing I gave away still being used in years to come by people in my social network, my tribe. I also feel that I am too concerned with my possessions sometimes, and a good way of addressing that is to get rid of them, relinquish my selfish hold, and move on to a lighter world.
To all of you who end up here in search of actual information, I apologize.
You’ve come here looking for recipes for spinach salad and sweet potato gnocci, and been disappointed. You’ve ended up browsing after the red herrings of women’s ice hockey and women’s ski jumping. Maybe you were looking for information on feederism. You want resources on current events, like police protocol in hunting accidents, and habitat destruction due to construction.
To all of you who come looking for porn, I don’t apologize. A Google excerpt like this: “So that’s my annual exam story. The best one yet, I must say, the sort of thing that makes me say … In the end, despite the humiliation and severe pain, …” should convince you this is not the right site for your needs. literotica is a really excellent source for erotica designed to meet all tastes.
To those of you searching for “how to eat a waffle wikipedia,” I don’t know what to tell you. I can say that I usually start by pouring the melted butter evenly across my waffle, followed with the syrup, and that I utilize a knife and fork for my waffle consumption needs.
Sometimes you perplex me, as the person who searched for “dangerously thin steroid hollywood” did. Perhaps you meant “stereotype?” Or were you researching weight loss drugs? I’m also confused about “lie back and think of England being you.” Am I lying back and imagining myself as England? How does this work, exactly.
Sometimes you worry me, as “why does my smear test hurt so much” did. I seem to get a lot of results related to annual exams and smear tests and pain, so here’s some wisdom for you: it should never, ever, be painful. If your examination is painful, you have a shit doctor or a medical problem. If your results have no abnormalities, switch to a different doctor, for the love of Pete.
And all of you ended up on a site written by nobody in particular about nothing at all, and some of you even stayed and browsed around. Sometimes your navigation paths fascinate me–you come here looking for “open container fort bragg” and you end up reading feminist rants about fat. Some of you must be so bitterly disappointed in me. For the love of Pete, my web children, please remember that the internet is not usually a trustworthy resource, and that for emergency situations like “I think I broke my arm and it is bleeding,” you should probably be looking for a hospital, or calling this man, not searching for an answer on the internet! I’m always excited about the potential of the internet for a rough quick answer, but never let it have the final word. Ok? Good.
Three Layer Curried Eggplant: a good choice when your dinner guests are picky eaters*. Who like Indian food. I am allergic to eggplant, which doesn’t actually stop me from eating it because it is very tasty. Also, the enzymes in yoghurt tend to mitigate the effect of the eggplant, as long as I don’t let it touch my lips directly. Recipe as given serves two, especially with pakora on the side. Easily expandable.
Layer Two:
Layer Three:
What you need to do:
Layer Two:
Pierce eggplant several times with a fork and roast in a 400 degree oven for approximately 50 minutes (TIP: start cooking your rice after the eggplant has been in the oven around 30 minutes). While this is going on, chop the garlic and coriander. Heat a burner to medium and put a heavy (such as cast iron) open pan on it. Add just enough cooking oil to lightly coat. Add spices (spices should be less than one year old, ideally, for flavour). When oil is hot, add garlic. Stir briskly. After about 30 seconds, add the coriander. Turn off the burner. Set aside. (It is important to let this mixture sit so that the garlic and oil absorb the flavours of the spices.) When the eggplant is falling in on itself, remove from the oven and (carefully, it’s hot!) dejacket it. Turn the burner with the spice/garlic mixture back on and add the cooked eggplant–cook for a minute or so until ingredients are throughly mixed. Set aside.
Layer Three:
Mix the yoghurt and the finely chopped peppers moments before plating.
How to serve it:
*As given, this recipe is gluten free and is easily made vegan with the substitution of soy yoghurt.
Ah, massage Clue.
But seriously.
I got a 90 minute massage from Autumn at Bamboo Garden, and it was amazing. Autumn is a great therapist on a lot of levels–she’s very communicative with you, and very in tune with your body. During the whole of our session, I felt like she was focused on my body alone, rather than the myriad of other things she has to think about, being a mother and a business owner. She also gives great elbow–I sense that her Deep Tissue massage is probably also excellent. She kept up nice firm pressure with me as we worked, and a smooth narrative flow with allowed me to utterly relax. You know those therapists who sort of flit about from area to area? She doesn’t do that. I always know where she is headed, and she kept up almost constant contact with my body throughout the section, something I really enjoy as a client. She sensed and released areas of tension in my body without needing me to say “I need more work here” or “no, don’t stop there!” I fell asleep about halfway through, which tells me it must be a good massage, if we can establish a trusting connection such that I feel ok going to sleep. All in all, a 100% excellent massage session from a therapist I can recommend without reservations. Although I would plan on being useless for the rest of the day after a massage from her.
(In addition to therapeutic massage, Autumn also provides Deep Tissue, Thai Massage, Pregnancy/Side Lying Massage, Warm Stone Massage, & body treatments.)
Strolling through the library the other day, looking for some light reading (I left with betrayal of Trust, The Ostrich Factor, and Behind the Veil in Arabia), I stumbled across The Worst Loss: How Families Heal After the Death of a Child. Now let’s just say right now, for the record, for those of my readers who have lost children: I am terribly sorry. This writing is not intended in any way to belittle or marginalize your loss, and I cannot imagine how difficult is must have been, and still is for you.
And to all my pregnant lady readers: congratulations! I in no way am passing judgment on your personal choice, simply explaining the reasons for my own. And if this goddamn fuzzy wool I ordered ever gets here, I will make you disgustingly cute little baby hats. ’cause I like knitting, even if I don’t like babies. Also, pregnant ladies are hot. And I’m sure you ladies are going to be kick ass parents because you are kick ass ladies, and you will raise awesome wonderful people who will work positive change in the world.
That said.
The title of this book raised a lot of thoughts in me about an issue I’ve been pondering lately. And that issue is the social (and somewhat biological) expectation that we all will have children. It’s such a universal thought that when I was stuck overnight in the Manchester Airport with a gentleman whose name I cannot remember (and yes, we hid from the nightly lockup patrol in the bathroom so we wouldn’t have to be outside in the snow), our varied conversation turned at one point to children.
“So you got kids?”
“God, no.”
“When do you think you’ll have ‘em?”
This attitude is alarmingly widespread in this country. As a vagina owner, I am expected to pay my dues by popping out a few at some point, as a general social duty. My right to have an abortion is increasingly under threat. Women of low income are encouraged to have children, and not provided with an infrastructure to take care of them. Because, you know, everybody has kids. That’s just the way it goes.
Books like this enforce this attitude, and other ideas which I am uncomfortable with. I am not a woman until I have children, I will never know what it is to be complete without children, and I in turn can never experience “the worst loss,” the most devastating loss ever, if I don’t have children.
I think, partly, where this book is coming from is the idea that children are not really supposed to die. I might argue, for example, that my father and I have a very close relationship and that I will be devastated when he passes, but the author would probably retort:
“Listen to that language! ‘When he passes!’ You expect him to die.”
Well yeah. My dad’s getting older. As am I. I’m expecting to get another thirty or so years out of him, maybe longer, but that’s the way it goes. Both of us, inevitably, are going to die, because it’s a natural biological process. But he is supposed to be more deeply wounded if I die before him that I will be when he dies. Although maybe not. I’m getting pretty old, I’m not so cute anymore, maybe he’d get over it. Although he’ll be pissed when he sees the credit card bill.
What about the loss of a sibling? Nope, the parents have to be more sad than the surviving sibling, because there’s a hierarchy of grief here, people. The loss of a partner? Maybe a partner you’ve been with for fifty years? Even in a totally unexpected car accident? When they were otherwise healthy? Not as tragic as losing a child, sorry, move along.
And of course, the loss of an infant or fetus is supposed to be the most harrowing at all, because here’s this perfect innocent little being who never had a chance at life! Who could have been so wonderful! Well, I’ll give you the advice the veterinarian gives to the little old lady who just lost her 14 year old poodle: get another one. It will help the healing process.
It bothers me, deeply, that those of us who make the choice to live child free are condemned for it. I am constantly told that I will “change my mind” about kids when I get older, that I will want to experience the “joys of motherhood,” and that I won’t really “understand what it’s like to be a woman” without kids. Well, honestly, I’m not so concerned about understanding my womanhood, since I am genderqueer. But I don’t expect people to know and understand that. I biologically present female. I have big tits and big hips. I must be planning on having kids someday or it would be a waste of perfectly good (on the surface) apparatus. Should I choose to have an abortion, I will be scolded, even if it’s to protect my own health.
There are a fair amount of childless people out there. Some of them are childless because of fertility issues, and would very much like to have children (for the love of Pete, people, adopt rather than having more more more more children). Some of them haven’t had kids yet. Some of them are fairly certain that they don’t want children, and have taken surgical or chemical steps to ensure it doesn’t happen. Some of them are members of VHEMT. And some of them just don’t want children, for a variety of personal reasons. We like to call ourselves “childfree,” rather than “childless,” because we’re not missing anything. We are making a conscious choice to live lives without children. And we are doctors, nurses, artists, bank tellers, veterinarians, business owners, web designers, investment bankers, airline pilots, writers, teachers, librarians, police persons…we are all around you. When we are not forming intentional communities, that is.
So why am I child free?
1. I don’t like them. I find children foul and repugnant, and I strongly dislike the fact that this society is constantly forcing them upon me. I thank my stars every day that I work in a child free workplace. (In practice, though not in posted signage.) Although we like the pregnant ladies just fine*. Just not the immediate result. Of pregnancy.
2. Human overpopulation is a serious problem. An alarmingly small percentage of the population controls most of the world’s resources. What I spent on dinner last night** would free two enslaved families in India. That’s wrong. It’s wrong that humans elsewhere on Earth live in abject misery. Our overall population needs to shrink, because we are facing dire consequences. Not only am I uncomfortable with adding to the population, I don’t know what kind of world children will face after I die.
3. I really dislike the social expectation that I am going to have children. And as well all know, when people expect me to do things, I usually don’t do them. Unless it’s eating. Babies. (Just kidding!)
4. It would probably kill me. ’cause I have special anatomy, that way.
And you know what? I have a lot of respect for parents. It takes a lot of work to raise a child, a lot of energy, and a shocking amount of money. Personally choosing not to be a parent doesn’t mean that I have to be an asshole about it. I love working with and mentoring youth (of high school age) and I’m glad to have that as part of my life.
But I dislike that American society is so prejudiced. Parents get more tax breaks, I pay for services that I don’t use because I don’t have children (and given the fact that my taxes are always rising, I’m fairly certain that I will have paid for the services I used as a child in a short amount of time). I have to tolerate a society which censors itself “for the children,” I have to struggle with child-proof lighters and medication, and I have to deal with a country which is geared for and centred around children. I have to deal with the expectation that someone who looks like I do will like babies, will enjoy having them thrust in her face, and will coo and giggle at the thought of children.
It’s people like me that drive the economy, because we have “disposable income” that we aren’t spending on children. (Although mine is being spent on repaying student loans for a long time in the foreseeable future.) Do we get any credit for this? Do we get credit for the work we do in our communities? Do we get any apologies for having to deal with a spawn-oriented society? No, we are condemned for not having children, and told that “when you’re older, you will change your mind.” Right, because people change their minds about other issues integral to their identity, like sexual orientation and skin color. And God forbid that you be a childfree straight couple, because all of your friends will be asking you “so when are you having kids? Stopped taking the birth control yet? When’s the happy event?” God forbid you choose to value your career over children, your cats over children, or your own health over children.
American society in general is filled with snoopy, prying people. Hell, I’m one of them. But about children in particular, there is an attitude that you should be telling complete strangers about the reasoning (or medical reasons) behind an ultimately personal choice. This country seems to have a sense of ownership about women, where every responsible person over age thirty is expected to have children and harry the childless. Is it any wonder the childfree form intentional communities? It’s not just to get away from children, it’s to get away from the constant questioning of a decision that, ultimately, is no one else’s business. Women are more than their anatomy, and I would have thought by now that the accomplishments of awesome ladies all over the world had proven that.
Elizabeth I was one of the most influential people in British history. She changed the shape and course of her nation under her rule. She fostered exploration, some dirty wars, and the arts. She was also childfree. And I don’t think anyone would care to argue that she was half a person because of not having children.
*Hey, just to make sure we are clear on this: I do not have a pregnant lady fetish, ok? I just think that pregnant women are really, really beautiful. I don’t want to be one, although I would like better skin.
**And yes, the crabcakes were delicious. Shocking.
Have you ever felt the ground change? I have.
It was late November and we were walking across The End of the World. Under our feet, the earth had turned solid with ice. It was hard to believe that the earth had a hot, molten core when the surface was so solid and unyielding. Each blade of grass was sharply outlined and rimed in an icy crust. The trees were stark and naked, the stars bright overhead.
“Look,” I said, pointing to the north.
“The aurora,” she said in awe, her words forming a cloud around her face.
“Norman said we would probably see it this week. I wish we were on the telescope tonight,” I murmured.
We looked at other impishly for a moment before abruptly changing direction for Stickney. The mud puddles of a week ago had frozen into miniature seas of ice, ruffles on top and all. It was so dry that our lips were cracking.
About halfway there, we gave up and flopped on the cold ground.
“Fuck it,” I said, “let’s view it like modern primitives or something, through our own eyes.”
We looked up into the sky, uncomfortably aware of every sharp, cold rock under our backs, every twig and pebble. Our hair slowly filled with ice, and flakes of it drifted around us. The world seemed sharply outlined that night, like a comic before it has been colored, shapes bold and distinct on the icy landscape.
“They are probably wondering where we went,” she said finally.
“Also,” I pointed out, “it is really fucking cold. The ground does not freeze where I come from, dude.”