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The South End and The North End

Friday, March 5, 2010

My friend Bonnie wants to know what is wrong with our town. Well, I have an opinion about that. Here it is.

The Pieces

First, there are a bunch of us liberals that live in one area of town, up North here. We are mostly white, Judeo-Christians, or has-beens like me who jumped ship and became a Unitarian. We have a certain amount of money and we live in the neighborhood we live in because, whether we admit it or not, we prefer our houses to NOT be rundown or NOT be nextdoor to the former Mr. Ps shooting gallery and bar.

Second, there are a bunch of conservatives who live in the SAME area of town. In fact, there are MORE of them than there are of us. They live here because they like the school systems, they like their privacy, they like white people like themselves and they will ADMIT that they NEVER wanted to go inside Mr. Ps shooting gallery and bar, not even out of curiosity.

Third, (but not because it’s LESS mind you!) there are the social liberals who ALSO voted for Obama who live at the other (south) end of town. They may or may not work at the former Mr Ps shooting gallery and bar, and they live in whatever type of abode a service wage can afford them (after all, this is Connecticut and us whiteys like to be served).

Which isn’t much. And it IS rundown, because they have NO time to fix it up because they work 70 hours a week and have three kids to take care of. They are exhausted and even if they rent, they can’t be bothered to call the landlord, unless it’s dire. They TOO would like to have time to plan their youngest birthday party, and also have to fill out all those friggin’ kindergarten registration forms that require a PhD that NOBODY has.

The REALLY South End

Fourth, there’s Lordship, which is basically Texas. Everyone (and I mean EVERYONE, including them) secretly wants them to secede and take the airport with them. Only problem is they are attached to our beach rights, which is the only reason any of us live in Stratford.

The REALLY North End

Fifth, Oronoque. OK, everyone has SOMEONE they know and love who lives a-way up there on Assisted Living Island, so it’s hard to say anything bad, right? Respect thine elders, right?

The best solution would be to distract them all with a really great reality television program featured there, because as we know, every vote in town is skewed by the Black Hole District–where voters have all the time to vote and complain, but no time to actually be involved in the town and do anything of use.

Sixth, the big Fat Middle.  These include all of the following:

1. There’s the guys on the couch. The armchair conservative quarterbacks who slam beers and bitch about everything but only vote when one or two issues chap their hides. Like gun control and pencil skirts.

2. High-horse liberals who are busy homeschooling their kids and feel the lousy government doesn’t include them. So they “drop out.”

3. And we all know the people who say “Politicians are all corrupt. I just don’t vote.”

You want to know what’s wrong with our town? We are the perfect image of America. We are plagued with apathy. We reject and disconnect from anyone of another race, culture, or socioeconomic class– even if their values and ideas are the same as ours. We are frozen, because we believe we are right.

We are Narcissus, staring at our lovely selves in the pool that is about to drown us.

We are living on our 1/4 to 3/4 acre islands of anger, frustration and oblivion, texting and messaging only the people who agree with us. And when we disagree, we say:

“People should never talk about politics or religion.”

We talk and we don’t act.  When we act, we are filling out forms for soccer, pouring asphalt in potholes, and driving our cars in traffic.

That’s what’s wrong.

And I know… this is a lot of talking and not acting. I know. But Bonnie asked.

Filed in Connecticut, Details, Home, Life in America, Madness, New England, On Driving, Stratford | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Comments (3)

The Internet Sent Me

Monday, February 22, 2010

Yes, Karin, I do have 972 blogs.

The Internet called me recently and asked if I’d start a blog of haikus for IT guys. I figured, why not? I’m not that busy.

Phew… the Internet is a demanding master. When we meetup each day, it’s always asking me to look over here, click this link, read this status. “Tweet, dammit!” it scolds, but my voice is getting scratchy from all the messaging I am doing here, there, and everywhere.

But, every once in a while, it reminds me why I visit this virtual world. Half friendships, confidence-pumping of comments, instant access to everyone who can’t figure out (like the rest of us) how to hide from Google. Or just don’t bother.

Being “linkedin” like this sort of reminds me of the Na’avi. They plug into their universe with their tail, and commune.

We’re here, connecting to each others’ inanities via the waters of free wi-fi, flowing around us.

Haiku for IT Guys:

Cubeviews distract code,
Testing souls longing for sun.
Java ain’t coffee.

Filed in Consuming Things, Dream rambles, Humor and Rant, Life in America, Media, Ponderings, Techno-wonder, Writing | Tagged , , , , | Comments Off

English Things I Miss, Part 2: On Biscuits, and Such

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

I had pancakes for breakfast yesterday and I took it totally for granted. God, how quickly we forget the hard times.

Back in the day, (when I was living on nothing but beer and chicken-flavored potato chips), finding any kind of American baked good was like a treasure hunt.

I was reminded of this when I visited Lisa Taylor this morning and she mentioned tea cakes. Mmmm don’t “tea cakes” sound just delightful? Well, they aren’t. They are just an amalgamation of flour and baking powder and sugar backed in a tiny formed pan and having the consistency of sea sponge.

British food, almost without exception, is awful. It’s mushy when it should be fresh or extra deep fat fried when it should be soft and flakey. Or it contains “bacon” which is actually ham. It is hard and stiff-upper-lipped when it should be warm and comforting.

Historically, this has resulted in binge drinking at delightfully lovely pubs in the evening– to blot out the horror of the day’s eating and also to avoid having to eat supper. Don’t worry– the protein in the salted peanuts will get you by.

More recently, with the advent of aeroplanes and Chinese shipping containers, it has resulted in the import of “real food” from other places, such as the great frontiers of America (made in Taiwan). Nothing hits the spot after a late night round like a stop at HRH’s KFC.

Thanks Lisa, for reminding me how much I am missing. And thanks Colin, for the pancakes.

Filed in British Culture, Details, English Thing I Miss, Food and Drink, Humor and Rant, Life in America, The Old Days, Warrington Hotel, beer | Tagged , , , | Comments (4)

Techno-Love

Monday, February 8, 2010


Or, On How to Avoid Becoming a Lesbian at College

My friend, Frances, and I have married the same man.

Frances: Alex is bobsledding in Lillehammer. He’s a bit nervous.

Me: Why? He’s loves to ski black diamonds in brightly colored one-piece snowsuits.

Frances: The first time they go down in a big bathtub thing with five or six people, but the second run is on an actual bobsled. By the end of the slope, you are actually pulling 5 gs.

Me: Colin would like that. He’d be grinning like an idiot by the end. (I demonstrate)

Frances: Look. (Shows me a photo  on her Blackberry). He just sent this. “This is my lunch.”

Me: Is that lime pizza?

Frances: (texting) “mmmmm lime pizza.”

In a previous post, I mentioned how I felt that marrying IT guys is the new black, and I stand by that conviction.

Especially after reading a recent article from the New York Times website about the dire state of dating on college campuses. Based on the percentage of women in college, it appears that if you are a lady who attends a college that DOESN’T have an engineering school, you will be forced to be a lesbian to get a date.

Well, of course the key there is the geek factor. When choosing a school to attend, ladies, find the best engineering schools. Engineering schools are heaving with men like Colin and Alex (well, not all as handsome, I’ll grant) whose job prospects are far better than the hot dude with a six pack, scrabbling for a “communications” degree.

And even if your nerd seems a bit unpolished when you meet him, note that more than any man I have met, IT guys are very malleable in the social and fashion departments. That is, they have little to no skills in those departments and they aren’t embarrassed to say so. So if you love a project, they will sit very still for you.

As long as you let them have their computer/Crackberry while you work.

Frances: I am really Alex’s second wife. After the Toshiba.
Me: Colin gets mad at me if I talk to him when he’s building his iTunes playlist.
Frances: We married the same man.

Filed in Alcohol, Colin Phillips, Humor and Rant, Life in America, Love-ish-ness, Media | Tagged , , , , , | Comments (8)

Feeling Normal in Nashville

Sunday, February 7, 2010

My life is decidely different than it was a year ago, 3 years ago or 7 years ago. Colin and I move around and like to keep things interesting. Our latest additions to the household have definitely redefined the meaning of “interesting.” And exhausting.

So as a sweet little surprise for my birthday, Colin called in our support group and gave me a day off with Frances, in Nashville. While I’ve been here I discovered a few things:

1. I like wide-open spaces.  Colin and I met in a typical sprawling midwestern city, very similar to Nashville. There are lovely rolling curves and banks of forest here and there. But unlike Connecticut, you never ever feel crowded. There is always an alternate route to your destination (one that isn’t two lane back roads) and space seems to allow people the room to feel comfortable enough to be friendly.

It’s the all of the worst choices urban planners could make, in terms of the environment. But man does it feel luxurious, comfy, homey.

2. Real friends are like family. You know what this is like… the sort of friend that you never have to check yourself with. They are like your favorite piece of clothing. Never goes out of style, and you always look good in them. Frances is like that with me. In her company I am immediately at ease and know I can just be myself… even if her surrounding world is sometimes (always) more coiffed than I am.

3. I love kids, near and far. Hanging with Franny’s two little ones was a blast… and made me long for the sweet voices on the other end of the phone too. All the work is worth the effort because kids are the absolute incarnation of love, generosity and goodness. What we give to them, we will always get back, tenfold. Maybe not in rest or stress-free days, but in the amazing spin of their lives, swirling around us.

Enjoying the day, looking forward to home.

Thanks Colin and Frances (and our support team!) for the lovely trip. Thanks Nashville, for the dose of homey perspective.

Filed in Colin Phillips, Details, Family, Life in America, Old Friends, Ponderings, Travel | Tagged , , | Comments (1)

The Parenting Apocolypse

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Wow there is SO much “content” out there in the World (Wide Web) to inform, amuse, and berate today’s parent.

I mean, don’t get me wrong. Some of it is actually useful. Such as the answers to basic questions like “Which end is up, again?”  “Will it ever stop pooping?” and the classic follow up, “Will the poop ever make it to the toilet bowl?”

The BEST part about parenting website, blogs, advice columns and books is the one inherent truth in parenting: all parents simultaneously feel like a big fat failure in child raising while also believing that they are 100 percent right about their parenting method.

So basically, reading parenting tips is like self-flagellation that has been outsourced.

The breadth of knowledge we have available only leads me to believe we might actually be approaching the end of the world, led by a pack of rabid Moms who all insist that Their Child is “Gifted.”

They will only shortly be followed by the Homeschoolers, Welfare Moms/Dads with More Than Four Kids, and Perpetual Playdaters.

Is it spring yet?

Filed in Busted Story, Consuming Things, Culture!, Family, Humor and Rant, Life in America | Tagged , , , , , | Comments Off

On Finding a Voice

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

I have a tendency to slip into foul language when little people are asleep. It’s the side effect of a past life working in the restaurant business where half the employees never escape a room below 110 degrees and only hear the words: “You screwed my order up again” as the nearest thing to praise.

I’ve noticed, however (especially in the last 10 months since there have been lurkers around this place who have ulterior motives), that my natural writing voice has gotten constrained and tight. I’d compare it trying to sing Madame Butterfly while laying on the floor with Tony Soprano standing on my neck.

And while that might give some of those readers a bit of ghastly glee, it actually doesn’t concern me all that much. Mostly because as a result of feeling my own voice constrained, I’ve spent unnatural waking hours looking for someone else to vent for me.

Last night I found a fabulously shameless hothead over at finslippy who instantly shot herself to the top of my blog reader by using the F-word in the same rhetorical breath as “crudite”… . Yes, Alice, I will pardon your French–any time.

I found the blog by way of Babble’s list of Top 50 Mommy Blogs, the sort of thing that makes me absolutely cringe in its desperately honorable attempt to give a subset of  highly talented and relevent bloggers the recognition they deserve, while hopelessly tossing all of them together under one culturally busted-down bus.

But my buddy finslippy was only named #8 funniest, so even though the cadence of her voice and her wracking humor grabbed me by envy-balls, I sauntered over to #1 funniest, Heather Armstrong, whose Dooce is so well established with accolades and acknowledgements that her thick sarcasm is starting to sound like church bells. I liked her photos alright, but they were so perfect, I almost thought I was scanning iStock for the perfect vision of familial goofiness.

But that’s not to say she isn’t worthy. In fact, the glory of blogs is the torrent of content. From the ages and pages of Dooce, there’s undoubtedly some raw edge that cut into her loyal readers, hooked them, and kept them returning. Blogs are like mood swings–  if you are faithful to the one you love, even on those horror days, there is comfort in the sound of the voice.

As for my voice, well, I’ll have to assume the stiltedness of my posts are excusable to those who know my whole story. And for the those who are mystery friends, you’ll just have to wait until the day the stilts are burned in freedom.

Filed in Blogroll, Busted Story, Details, Humor and Rant, Life in America, Midwest is Best, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , | Comments Off

My Own Personal A-Team

Friday, January 29, 2010

The truth is, we all need someone like Howlin’ Mad Murdock to swing in, now and then, in his robe and fluffy slippers to cause an awesome distraction while we eat the rest of the brownies.

Or maybe someone like Face, to charm the pants off of manager in the grocery store. She won’t be able to RESIST him, and will open another check out, just for us.

Somedays, it’s B.A. Baracus we need to step in. He’s gonna the pity the fool who doesn’t use their turn signal in front of you, or slows down so much you miss that light. (Isn’t it fun to watch when he presses his gold chains against their driver’s side window?).

But most of all, we all need at little Hannibal in our life, to chew confidently on his cigar, pull on those leather gloves and put his brilliant plan in action.

Face: [the team's plane is starting to malfunction] Uh, Murdock, what’s going to happen?
Murdock: Looks like we’re going to crash.
Face: No, what’s *really* going to happen?
Murdock: Looks like we’re going to crash and die.

Filed in Dream rambles, Famous People, Humor and Rant, Life in America, Madness, TV is Rotting My Brain, The Old Days | Tagged , , , , | Comments Off

Stephen Fry and the Perfect Rant

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Thanks to my husband, I got the chance to listen to the ultimate rant on America… from my favorite Brit, Stephen Fry. He has a fantastic podcast called Stephen Fry’s Podgrams. Some are scripted, others are extemporaneous. That  is major.

Fry came to America for his BBC series Stephen Fry’s America, now available on DVD. No big surprise, he found out (and told) that Americans aren’t all mad gun toting religious freaks who eat lard three meals a day.

Instead, he called out the exact quality in Brits that I noted while I lived there: that in the face of Americans, Brits love to feel superior.

This is, of course, because of a deep-seated inferiority complex.

Meanwhile, Americans love Brits… and tend to fall back on their open and friendly nature when in their company. We, after all, believe you ARE superior, at least in your knowledge of literature, world sports, and tea.

Fry was completely misguided on one fact: the Brits superior knowledge of coffee. He assumed that coffee in America equaled Starbucks. However, he clearly is setting his standard to EUROPEAN coffee levels (his trek in Brugges may account for this) and not British levels, where staple-coffee is dried granules like Nescafe.

The best coffees are always to be had, Stephen, in locally owned coffeehouses–the sort that compete with the nearby Starbucks. Sorry you missed that.

We’ll be delighted to French press some fantastic coffee for you, Stephen, at our dinner party.

Filed in Consuming Things, Culture!, English Thing I Miss, Europe, Food and Drink, Life in America, London, Media, Old Friends, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , | Comments Off

Kentucky Fried Christmas

Thursday, December 24, 2009

After a visit to Colin’s work, we were all famished for lunch today.

Nothing says special holiday like a big bucket of KFC. We got the family 12 piece meal and just about devoured all of it together.

Dining on fast food on Christmas eve always reminds me of my own childhood. Ever so often — after we couldn’t bear to think about eating another of my mom’s hamburger and macaroni casserole– we’d plead with Dad for a meal out. We’d ask “Dad where are we going for dinner tonight??” and he say “Howard’s kitchen!” and then chortle delightedly the few times he fooled us.

We ate at a Shakey’s Pizza about once a year, and later, when we were teenagers and had our own paper route money, we rode our bikes to McDonald’s now and then in the summer. Fast food was a honest to goodness treat, almost like a holiday itself. We were freed from the horrors of Mom’s debilitatingly bland cooking and Mom was freed from having to prepare it. And we all escaped dishes, for one night.

A curious thing about fast food around here– our little ones know just what is in the boxes and bags even before we open them. If they gave them out, they would already have a PhD in McNugget dipping.

Lucky for them, we don’t eat take out that often–so they can learn all over again the joy of fast-food holidays, and not just on Christmas.

Filed in Consuming Things, Details, Family, Food and Drink, Home, Humor and Rant, Life in America, The Old Days, restaurants | Tagged , , , , , | Comments Off

On the Meaning of Chex Mix…

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

My sudden craving for Worcestershire sauce-and-butter- encrusted cereal is a hint about my heritage. Maybe in techno-America, the idea of “heritage” is almost obsolete, except that it isn’t. My iPhone 3G will be nostalgia in a year or two, so hearkening back to the “old days” of baking Chex Mix with my sisters for the holidays really does show the history of my family– especially my geographical identity.

Food follows and makes me who I am. In Iowa, I was unseasoned dinners– charred meat and potatoes, canned and frozen veggies. I was simple and fast–a recipe made from the combination of a harried mother of six blended with her despise and ineptitude in the kitchen. The result: heat and serve Salisbury steaks, canned spinach, powdered mashed potatoes.

She didn’t mind the baking however, so at holidays we had old pretzel and chip tins full of Chex Mix, cookies and homemade caramel corn. She served her own sweet tooth.

My years in Kansas City make me long for a proper donut when I am sugar-starved ( Thanks Lamars) and pork dumplings and pu-ehr when I am lonely for friends.

My years in London make me long for just the right balance of warm beer, vinegar and salted crisps, and toasted mates.

I am curious to see what  longing my years in Connecticut will create. My suspicion is that it will eventually take me full circle: that the hardened shell here of natural unneighborliness — and the stark mediocrity of the food, no better and no worse than my Midwestern roots — will eventually lead me home.

Home, where my Chex Mix’s baking…

Filed in Connecticut, Consuming Things, Details, Family, Food and Drink, Home, Kansas City, Life in America, London, Midwest is Best, New England, Ponderings, The Old Days | Tagged , , , , , | Comments (2)

My Two Front Teeth… My Two Front Teeth

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

That’s the song playing in my head at 5 a.m.  over and over. Just the refrain.

Our brains have a huge capacity for self-torture. Why not after all? When we are going day to day through life and hardly feeding them at all, why shouldn’t they wake us up at 5 a.m. with the random awful refrain of the worst Christmas song ever written?

I haven’t read a book since I quit my book club. I thought I would, but instead I just gave up. I’ve been passing out with exhaustion instead on the sofa during CSI, hardly making it to bed before my eyelids are crashing.

But my mind is protesting. It’s bored. So it wakes me up at 4 a.m. for a chat. This morning, it wants to know, “why would Sister Susie ever sit on a thistle?”

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Status Update…

Monday, December 21, 2009

I am not sure what I am supposed to say anymore. I feel guarded, though what I am guarding isn’t tangible.

The woman at the food pantry was so frustrated. She didn’t have anything kind to say.  She didn’t know me and she still yelled at me.

The happiest moment was still in the snow, the two of us, making snowballs and forgetting the expectations of the world. It’s true there is no sound equal to a toddler’s laughter. It’s a burbling rushing creek crossing through the dream where you are wandering in the desert.

It’s pulling teeth this morning. That’s why I have to do it. Yanking at the meaningful thought. I am becoming a string of disconnected status updates, instead of coherency.

Anyway, I have the tea kettle hot now, and I’m thinking about my family cruising on the Mediterranean for Christmas. I am not wishing I am there, just imagining it instead. I stood on the cliff top in Vernazza and watched the couples sunbathe on the black rocks by the aqua sea in summer. I slept in a tiny cabin en route to Sicily. I can use my mind to conjure warm breezes, even while I gaze at the orange streetlamps shining down on our snow blanket.

I am here.

Filed in Family, Ponderings, Writing | | Comments (1)

Dreams, canned and stuffed

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

“So tell me your dream
Lay your head on my pillow
Tell me the things that you hide away
Your pain
Your pleasure
Your sorrow
Tell me the things that you hide away
Your pain your pleasure your sorrow.”
–Blue Rodeo

If you are looking for the less fortunate, you can find them waiting in long lines outside the St Charles rescue mission on East Main on Bridgeport.

If you are looking for a shade different than the golden hues of the New England Gateway, you can stand in line for a free turkey too. And a plastic bag of miscellaneous groceries, with which you will have to make do.

Whose dreams are filled with Stove Top stuffing? Whose childhood memories taste like canned corn and potato buds?

The old man with half a missing ear kissed and blessed me today. I dreamed I found a way to inject my many spare blessings into his empty cupboards.

In Westport, this morning,  you could trade a turkey for tickets to see Taylor Hicks  in Grease. What morsel of entertainment could we dine on any other holy day?

Forget the thanks. Lean on giving. Forget the holy. Remember the day. Remember the day-to-day dreams.

Filed in Activism Means Act!, Connecticut, Consuming Things, Food and Drink, Life in America, Music, New England, Ponderings | Tagged , , , , | Comments Off

Less and Less to Say

Monday, November 23, 2009

I am writing more poems these days. My thoughts are interrupted, and dreamlike. They fly and tumble like monkeys swinging from branches.

These days, I have less less less to say, more times repeated,either writhing or couched in metaphor. I want the eavesdroppers to feel lost, yet  satiated, all the same.

I am using rhetorical devices to avoid you. I am using twisted paths of narrative to confuse you. I am pinching adverbs from the sky like dead and falling stars.

I stopped by the store the other day to buy 70 spf sunblock, to ward off the paparazzi glare of you.

If I feel exposed, it isn’t anything new. I’ve been naked before, while voyeurs re-sketched their idea of me. Charcoal tracing over my flaws, tripping over the broken parts that have not healed. The less I said, the more I answered.

At the end of the cold night, I went home, clothed in layers of exactitude.

Filed in Writing | Tagged , , | Comments (1)