Oh, what a world, what a world

When I was growing up in New England winters, there was the temperature and then there was "wind chill."  Temperature was pretty much irrelevant.  Wind chill was the important number, since that was what you were going to experience when you walked out the door.

Fast forward to summertime in the DC area, where the humidity is tactile: a hot washcloth pressed over the nose and mouth, a dog’s hot breath in your ear, a damp velvet suit hugging your every move.  The humidity and heat combine to create the yang to wind chill’s yin – the heat index.

The heat index is on us, with expectations of heat experiences of over 100 degrees, and even with jogging in the morning before the full blast of summer, I tell you I am melting .

There goes my baby, she knows how to rock and roll

Mom and I were talking about "our" words a while back.  It’s something Elizabeth Gilbert talks about in Eat Pray Love – if I recall correctly, she has a friend who believes that every city and every person has a word that describes them or sums them up.  It’s "their" word.  Mom asked me what my word was, and it just popped out:

"Okay."

Now, that may seem like a pretty lame word to be one’s all-encompassing, but anyone who’s ever heard me talk has heard this word many, many times out of me.  And it’s not because I’m overly accommodating (stop laughing, Ma, John, everyone else).  It just happens to be a word that I find infinitely flexible.  A lot has to do with intonation.

Bridging: "Hey Jill – here’s something you absolutely disagree with!"  "Um… okay.  So let’s think about this…"

Happiness: "Jill – something fun!"  "Okay!"

Processing:  "Jill – bad news."  "…Oh-kay …"

etc.

But it’s that last example I am talking about here.  I’m unemployed.  I’ve been unemployed for about a month now (I wanted to take some time before I talked about it here).  I was unemployed when I started this blog , back in 2004.  So we’ve come full circle, and not in a way I would have wanted.

Oh-kay .

However, so far so good – at least emotionally.  I’ve kept up with my running.  I’ve kept up with Tosh’s training.  I’ve kept going with the job search and the networking and the stuff that goes along with it.  I haven’t gotten too freaked out.  In fact, coming back from my run today, I was shuffling and dancing down the forest path near our house (yes positively jitterbugging – jazz hands may have been involved, I’m just saying).  Hey – you try to stay still when "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" comes onto your iPod.  Let me know how that works out for you.

I don’t think anyone saw me (except poor Tosh, who clearly knew in his doggy way that Mommy had completely lost her marbles).  And you know what?  If someone did, I don’t care.

OKAY!

Unpaid endorsement

Do you see this sweet kitten?

Milo - in a Kitty Can't Cope frenzy

Do you see this sweet kitten going out of his lentil-sized mind?

Milo - in a Kitty Can't Cope frenzy

Milo - in a Kitty Can't Cope frenzy

Milo - in a Kitty Can't Cope frenzy

Milo - in a Kitty Can't Cope frenzy

Okay, darling. Now pose with the product:

Milo - in a Kitty Can't Cope frenzy

The thing that made Milo go insane this evening was a Kitty Can’t Cope Sack which is probably at least five years old.  Simon and Dash have been gnawing on it, rubbing it on their faces, and generally flipping out on it since long before our littlest feline monster was born.  There is at least as much cat saliva in this thing as kitty ganja.  And yet, it still has the mojo.  Even more miraculous, it’s still intact.

This is weapons-grade catnip, my friends.  And three for less than $10?  By my reckoning, that’s about fifteen years of cat-frenzy.  A bargain.

You know what there aren’t a lot of?

Female movie reviewers.

I admit to a certain fondness for reading movie reviews, especially for movies I may never see.  I’m an unabashed fan of Roger Ebert’s, and generally appreciate his insights.  That being said, however, I predicted that his first words on the "Sex and the City" movie would be something to the effect of, "I’m not the target market for this movie."

Bingo .

Curious, I scanned the Google roundup page for reviews of the movie.  It seems that there’s a definite gender split between the men and women – women mostly appreciating the movie for all the things the show brought us: witty dialogue, a return visit to characters we had grown to love, and a hefty dollop of high-fashion wish-fulfillment.  The men mostly found it shallow (that word shows up a lot) and admitted that since they hadn’t been viewers of the show, they weren’t privy to the back story.  I may be reading too much into the reviews I have read, but there seems to be a sense of unease in those writers – the sense that manliness has had to take its fingers out of its ears and stop singing, "Lalalalala – I don’t hear you!!" and listen to girly stuff that might… Do Something to them.  I don’t know what, exactly: make bits fall off?

Should I mention that I am the target market for this movie?  Need I mention that I have watched every episode of the series (and on afternoons, home with flu and feeling low, watched again) and enjoyed the series through its ups and downs, its storytelling strengths and weaknesses, the outfits I wouldn’t be caught dead in, and its nuanced and touching portrayals of female friendships?  I don’t know.  I do know the constant obsessions with shoes and labels always seemed to be more of a running joke in the series than anything else, and yet that is what is deemed "shallow" by so many critics.

So, let’s review.  Shoes/fashion: shallow.  Cars/guns/robots/spaceships: serious.  Besides, what is meant by the label "shallow"?  You could also possibly describe these same things as "light" or "entertaining."  But those are positive adjectives – ones that the reviewer might use to say, "Hey – go see it.  It’s fun!"  Instead, we get an adjective that says, "Save your money – this is unserious content, unworthy of your notice or money."

Shallow implies waste.  And waste implies guilt.  And woe be to you who enjoy such frivolity.

My friend Jacob has gone to town on the term "guilty pleasure" and excoriates it in a way that I have been chewing on ever since I first read it:

I hate that phrase "guilty pleasure" more than anything, because it’s a contradiction in terms and seems really self-hating and self-defeating to me, but more than that, I think the one thing you will always get crapped on for is honestly loving — much less rigorously reading — something that’s so heavily feminized, because to be blunt, we devalue women’s experience.

Yes.  Yes, we do.  Women will never be criticized for enjoying a "Die Hard" movie (heck, the first one has Alan Rickman in it – who am I to cavil at enjoying that?), but the term "chick flick" is a derogatory one, and not one a man wants to be associated with.  It’s a hoary cliche, and it’s frustrating.

So we’re back to the split: the ones who enjoy are women.  The ones who don’t are men.  And unfortunately, it seems that there are a lot more men who get paid to watch and opine than women (need I wait while you recover from your shock?).  Do the male reviewers have to like it?  Heck no – I don’t know if I will like it.  But the tediously predictable reasons for why they don’t like it is disturbing, and it saddens me.

As for me, I haven’t seen the movie yet (see here for why).  Will I?  Pass the popcorn.

Blogging the Blob

I promised Robynn photos of the blob, so here they be:

Blob – wide-shot:

Bee shawl - final phase

Blob – closeup of final motif:

Bee shawl - closeup of final motif

Extra bonus knitting content – a sock for John, cobbled together with ideas from Cat Bordhi’s latest fever-dream, er, book :

John's raven socks - well, sock

(I really like that heel, and this was my first foray into linen stitch, which is a bit of a pain, but the effect is nice).

Extra bonus holiday weekend cute – LoLo the lounger:

The Yoga of Cute

(Yes, that’s Milo. I have a slightly wacky habit of nipping a nickname off the back of our pets’ names. So MacIntosh becomes Tosh or Toshie, Simon becomes MonMon or Mon-ster, and Milo has become Lo, Little Lo, or LoLo.  Those with single-syllable names don’t have this indignity visited upon them, so Dash is safe.)

Robynn also tagged me , and while I’m not generally memealicious, I decided to go along…

What was I doing ten years ago?

Hmm…. May of 1998.  I had just moved to the DC area for the first time.  I purchased my first house in Arlington, VA (everyone told me I was out of my mind for buying, the market would tank any minute, everything was overpriced… um… yah.  Not so much.)  I had one cat (Mon, MonMon, Monster).  I wasn’t in a relationship, and for the first time in my adult life, I was pretty cool with that.

Five things on my to-do list for today:

  1. Write this post
  2. Work more on the blob bee shawl
  3. Clean up the kitchen
  4. Relax
  5. Relax some more (holiday, don’cha know)

Snacks I enjoy:

Mostly things with salt – potato chips, corn chips and salsa, and the like, but I also really like pickles… mmm.  Pickles.  Salt and chocolate together are also favorites, like chocolate-covered pretzels, and while it’s not salty, chocolate-covered ginger is a dangerous new discovery.

Things I would do if I were a billionaire:

Um… wow.  The world kind of explodes when you think that way, doesn’t it?  My mom and I used to play a game called "dream house" – we would talk about various aspects of what home would look like if money was no object: location, features, what sort of special rooms we might have.  This is kind of like that, except there’s a personal and a public side to it.  Clearly there would be a lovely home (well, homes – favorite places like Colorado and Paris spring immediately to mind), and there would be travel to places I want to visit but wouldn’t necessarily want to live (India, the rest of Europe, New Zealand), but there would also be the "doing good" part of having that much money, and knowing me, it would be about education and independence.  I suppose I would either fund a foundation and work with people who are committed to enable independence through education, or find a foundation that’s already doing that sort of work and work with them.

Places I have lived:

It’s a pretty short list: New Hampshire (Hollis and Manchester); Portland, Maine; Minneapolis, Minnesota; the DC suburbs of Maryland and Virginia; Somerville, Massachusetts (I’m only including places where I’ve had an address on my driver’s license – there are other places I have spent considerable time – like London, England, or Menlo Park, California).

Tag?

Umm…. well – let’s see.  How ’bout Marie , Lianne , and Daisy ?

Memorial Day Weekend Niecelet

John and I really enjoy being "Uncle John and Auntie Jill," and we’re pretty lucky with the kidlets we have in our lives.

We got to spend today with little miss Amelia Sophia, who was very happy to be strolled around a Memorial Day street fair with Mama and Daddy and Uncle and Auntie. She continues to be most cute:

The modern baby, captured in its natural habitat

…and John has many very interesting conversations with her:

Uncle John and Amelia

(trust me, she may look as if she was ignoring him, but she was really listening intently).

More posting tomorrow, including answering Robynn ‘s tag, and also answering her plaintive cry for in-progress knitting photos. Big piles of blobby lace shawl in progress – excitement!

Zoo!

A long time ago, I wrote about how John goes to his "kid-place" at the zoo .  Well, I can report that all the kid-place buttons are "go," and we’re ready for liftoff:

John, tickled by the animals

We had a fantastic day at the zoo.

One of the highlights? The hungry tiger:

LOLTiger

If you want to see the (edited) photoset, it’s here:

…after all, there’s no need to subject you to 200 photos.

The good news is, I came in ahead of a 23-year-old

356th out of a field of 383 is actually better than I probably would have done as a teenager…

The bad news is my calves still hurt.  Feh.  I’d like to get running again, but I know from experience I just have to rest until there is no more pain.

Race report!

Hello all.

I had meant to write a race report yesterday, but, well – I was pretty tired.  So tired, in fact, that we returned from the race, I showered, we had lunch, and we ended up napping for at least 2 hours.  Wiped.  Out.  I have a recurrent cramp or spasm in my calf, so that made the run a bit more of a shuffle for me for most of it (especially on the hills – which were humungous, may I add), but I did it!

See?

Finished!

Portrait of tired but proud woman.

Anyway, I had promised a Very Special Thank-You to all who contributed, and here it is.  As you may know, I would not probably be running at all without my trusty nano and its tunes.  So here is my final training playlist, which also got me through yesterday as I chugged up all those endless hills, dedicated to my lovely supporters.

1. "Bitch" – Meredith Brooks:  Okay, as tacky as it is right out of the gate – this one’s really for me.  You know I can’t get going without my angry grrl music.

2. "Steve McQueen" – Cheryl Crow: To my former colleagues.  A sincere thank you for your generosity and caring.

3. "The Night Pat Murphy Died" – Great Big Sea: For Lianne – dark, bouncy, silly, and Canadian.  Here’s to ya, girl.

4. "Have Fun Go Mad" – Blair (they don’t have that version on iTunes, so I replaced it with Trondheim Storband’s version for the iTunes mix): For Robynn .  She may not quite "set sail from just around the corner of the Portobello Road," but she’s certainly closer than any of my other supporters.  Take a turn around Osterly Park for me, my dear…

5. "Don’t Cry No More" – Boz Scaggs: For Marilee, because it just seems like the kind of tune she would like

(trust me – some of these titles bear no resemblance to their mood – this is a pretty happy, bouncy mix for the most part)

6. "Virtual Insanity" – Jamiroquai: For Kathy , as we seem to live in a virtual insanity rather than a real insanity, despite living only minutes from one another!

7. "I Don’t Feel Like Dancin’" – Scissor Sisters: For Barbara, because she’s just that great, she deserves the Sisters.

8. "Born to Fly" – Sara Evans: For my darling husband, who hiked out onto the trail to cheer me on and told me he was really proud of me.  When we were dating, I listened to this song a lot, and I knew he was the "brown-eyed boy in my future."

9. "I Was a Little Too Lonely (You Were a Little Too Late)" – Erin McKeown: For Anabel, not for the sense of the tune, but for its intrepid silliness.

10. (Power Tune) "Some Days You Gotta Dance" – Dixie Chicks: For Mom.  Because she’s the one who first taught me that some days you gotta dance.  In our case, in the living room to Carol King.

If you like this mix, you can get it here:

True story — sort of.

"She told it to me, and… like Genghis Khan or Alexander the Great, I occupied it.  It was real estate that I wanted to be part of so I just marched in and became part of it."