Five Ways to Make Your Life More Creative

So I could absolutely do without the AmEx tie-in, but the message was good enough to overlook that. Also, the crazy spelling of "shrug."

The Unapologetic Fat Girl's Guide to Exercise and Other Incendiary Acts by Hanne Blank

The Unapologetic Fat Girl's Guide to Exercise and Other Incendiary Acts by Hanne Blank
My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Hanne Blank is someone whose writing I have enjoyed for almost a decade now. She appeared with some regularity on the LiveJournal blogs of other authors I read regularly, and her confidence and intellect were readily apparent. I started following her there at the mostly-defunct LJ, and I have made it a point to read her books at they come out.

This book was one in which I was particularly interested, since Blank's blog entry from back-in-the-day about being a fat girl on a bicycle was particularly helpful. Her tone is both informative and protective throughout this novel, encouraging the new fat-lady exerciser to take that same approach to her body-practice. Have the facts, and never apologize for the way you have a body in this moment. You might lose weight. You might not. Your body might change shape in ways you don't like, but the practice itself is still a net-good because it will improve your health.

There's information in here that's helpful for the never-active and for the newly active, as well as for people who have already made meaningful movement a part of their lives. You don't even have to be overweight to find this warm, cheery book a good resource, but overweight people will find it especially informative. The Resource section in the back of the book alone is worth the cover price!

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Late Review: Tell the Wolves I'm Home

Tell the Wolves I'm Home by Carol Rifka Brunt
My rating: 5 of 5 stars


“I used to think maybe I wanted to become a falconer, and now I'm sure of it, because I need to figure out the secret. I need to work out how to keep things flying back to me instead of always flying away.” --Tell the Wolves I'm Home

When I finished this novel, I didn't know what to say. I loved it. It crushed me. It elated me. It took the top of my head off in the very best way possible. It shocked me to no end it was a first novel. It reminded me of the death of my mother's closest friend to AIDS in 1992, and how his death shattered me into tiny pieces in ways I didn't understand for years and years.

The narrator feels very real to me, and she takes me back to a time that AIDS was on the nightly news every night. On the cover of Time magazine, complete with a story that speculated that AIDS was mutating so fast that it could become airborne, and then we'd really be screwed. I read that issue at the allergist's office at age 9 or so (I was a weird kid), and eyed everyone in the waiting room suspiciously until they called me to get my bimonthly shot. This book perfectly captures what it's like to be a kid during that time in the late 80s when the adults were all going crazy and no one knew what to think.

I know it's not for everyone. I would have said it wasn't for me either. I love sad songs, but I like my books to have happy endings. This book, by its nature, must end in some measure of tears, but I found myself coming back to it again and again. Finally, I opened it to get an idea of the prose, and I never put it down willingly again.

Try it. Even if it's not your thing. It might just transport you to your own childhood, and a time that you were figuring out who you were and who you loved.

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Magically Good, Grilled Thin-Cut Pork Chops (Gas Grill)

Mine, all mine. No one else gets any!

This is the pork chop recipe that will make you look like some sort of wizard. They're tender, flavorful, and juicy, and hard not to devour while neglecting everything else on your plate.

Ingredients:
4 bone-in pork rib or center-cut chops, 1/2 inch thick, trimmed
3/4 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 tsp packed brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1 teaspoon finely chopped chives
1/2 tsp Dijon mustard
1/2 tsp grated lemon zest


How to: 
1. Cut 2 slits, about 2 inches apart, through outer layer of fat and silverskin on each chop. Pat chops dry with paper towels and rub with salt. Freeze until chops are firm, 30 minutes up to one hour.
2. Combine 2 tbsp butter, sugar, and pepper in bowl; set aside. (I always wish I had made more of this once it's time to use it, so consider making extra.)
3. Mix remaining 2 tbsp butter, chives, mustard, and lemon zest in second bowl, and refrigerate until firm, about 15 minutes. (This can be saved in the fridge for up to 24 hours.)

Hot.

4. Spread butter-sugar-pepper mixture on both sides of each chop. Grill, covered, 3 to 4 minutes per side. Transfer chops to platter and top with chilled butter-chive mixture. Tent with aluminum foil and let rest for 5 minutes before serving.

As you can see, we did this with homemade bread, asparagus, a grilled sweet potato, and strawberry peach summer soup. SO good.

On being 17 and afraid of a (creepy-ass) stranger

Fresh-faced! (one of my favorites, despite its flaws.)

When I was in high school--17 years old--I had a stalker. He was old, scary, and he drove a beater that looked like he might live in it at least part of the time. He came into the convenience store where I worked pretty regularly, and sometimes he would sit in the parking lot and stare in the front windows at me for hours.

I didn't do anything to "encourage" his attention. To the contrary: it was obvious he was making me extremely uncomfortable. One night, as I left work, he followed me from the parking lot. I noticed him and his horrible, distinctive car, and I didn't drive straight home. I didn't want him to know where I lived.  After about 10 minutes, he figured out that I wasn't going to give him the information he wanted, and he drove off.  This was before cell phones that I could have used to call for help.

This place I worked offered free refills on soda and coffee to police officers to encourage their regular presence, as it discouraged would-be robbers, and my particular location was right next to the city police station. We had a lot of regular officers who came in and out of the store at all hours, and I told one of them who came in to work the next night. "Sarge" pulled him over and had a talk with my stalker (who had a lengthy DV record against his ex-wife, as well as other charges, Sarge told me later after running his tags). I'm unsure precisely what was said during that traffic stop, but I know it was one of those "unofficial" police interventions that had no legal teeth behind it whatsoever. I will always be grateful for it, since I only saw my stalker once after that, and he left when he saw me, no doubt worried he would get another visit from the police.

I had almost forgotten about all of this, until I started hearing from people that Trayvon Martin only had to "run home" and he would have been safe from the "creepy ass cracker" who was following him that night. In the dark, being followed by a stranger, sometimes the last thing you want to do is lead that trouble back to your home. Sometimes, at that time, it feels like the least safe thing you could do.

I was white, blonde, female, and conditioned to living in at least a small amount of fear from adult men who treated me as an object of attraction. Trayvon Martin's fear was different, to be sure, but I have to think that people who say he should have just gone home aren't really thinking about what would have gone through Martin's mind that night. For some, Zimmerman's mindset is more accessible. The mindset that blames the dead unarmed boy and not the grown man with the gun who was so afraid he had to get out of the car despite police advice.

I was lucky. My place in society afforded me protection from the police and other powers that be. I could approach a police officer with my problem without the fear that minority communities often feel when dealing with the authorities. My stalker knew exactly where the line was on his pursuit, and the attention of the police scared him off. That kind of luck is based on my position, my privilege as a cisgendered white woman, and by the amount of fear society feels it's acceptable for me to feel before there is a response from the powers-that-be.

Who do you identify with more in the death of Trayvon Martin? What do you think it says about the world that the jury felt Zimmerman's actions were reasonable under the circumstances?

Additional reading about fear and how it interacts with privilege at Shakesville.

First yoga class today

I went to my very first yoga class ever at Darling Yoga this morning, and it was inspiring and more fun that I would have imagined. I'm not sure, outside of a massage, I have EVER felt this relaxed. It felt like a reasonably good amount of exercise as well, though this was a class that was primarily designed for relaxation. As a beginner, it was one of a handful that was appropriate for me, and I can't wait to go back tomorrow for another class!

I joked as I was heading out that I was ready to fully embrace my chai latte-drinking, Prius-driving, progressive stereotype by adding yoga to the list of me-things, but I really did love it. I'm ready to buy more yoga pants, and my own yoga mat.

Hand-wringing and Ender's Game

This is actually almost exactly how I pictured it.

So there's a stink all over the science fiction reading and watching world about the Ender's Game movie, and if people going to see it are justified in giving money to boyish, Birkenstock-wearing Orson Scott Card, famous author and crazy homophobe.

Card's history of speaking craziness on the subject of same-sex marriage is well-established. He's been outspoken on the matter since 1990, but his work to oppose same-sex marriage has become increasingly public and his words on the matter have become increasingly strident. He now sits on the board of the National Organization for Marriage and has advocated the overthrow of the United States government should same-sex marriage become legal:  

[W]hen government is the enemy of marriage, then the people who are actually creating successful marriages have no choice but to change governments, by whatever means is made possible or necessary… Regardless of law, marriage has only one definition, and any government that attempts to change it is my mortal enemy. I will act to destroy that government and bring it down….

 Many pixels have been slain in the attempt to persuade people to see the movie despite Card's financial gain or to not see the movie to send a message to Summit and Card that Card and his views are objectionable. There are good people making good arguments on both sides of this issue. I don't know what the right answer is. I worry that if I go see it some of my dear friends who are gay will think I am not supportive enough of their rights if I can't forgo this movie.  Perpetual liberal hand-wringing is so cliche, but not without good reason. It's a genuine concern.

Today, I read a guest blogger write on the subject at Marshall Ryan Maresca's blog: Orson Scott Card and Tolerating Intolerance. I found the argument there persuasive and thoughtful, and responded to it and to another commenter:

If it's the trickle-down effect of Card's tithing/financial support of groups like NOM that is of concern, one could always donate the cost of a ticket or more to an organization that supports your values on the other side, like the Human Rights Campaign or the It Gets Better Project.

I'm torn about the movie still, and my husband has decided NOT to see it for the reasons SmallDoc mentions above. The book wasn't an important part of my childhood: I read it when I was 20. But it is an extremely influential book to my personal belief system, which is in complete opposition to Mr. Card's on this issue.

Somewhere I read that MLK Jr.'s own views on homosexuality were a sort of kindly "it can be fixed" mentality. I deeply admire him despite this. I think we should, when we can, separate the work from the source. History tends to do it anyway (as is has, for the most part, with King), and when the stories stand entirely free from the objectionable view, it's in the interest of everyone to preserve the good parts.

I still can't find the essay that made the argument that like King's homophobia is largely forgotten now, one day Card would likely only be remembered for the themes of Ender's Game and not the work he's done in opposition to same-sex marriage. I'm not sure it's true: Card's bigotry is much more vocal than King's, and the internet remembers forever. I'm not sure that Card doesn't deserve an asterisk next to his name on these matters for all time, so maybe that's wishful thinking.

What I think I know after thinking about this for months is that Ender's Game is not an anti-gay work. Should Hollywood ever decide that making Card's anti-gay, Hamlet's-dad-was-a-pedophile version of Shakespeare's play into a movie, I will not be attending that at any price. I probably WILL go see Ender's Game in the theaters--even if it's by myself--and I will make a donation to both The Human Rights Campaign and the It Gets Better Project with "Ender's Game offset" written in the memo line. It's an imperfect solution to what has remained a thorny problem for me.

I hope my friends will understand.

Zimmerman trial--closing arguments

Closing arguments, at last. I think we're about to see an acquittal on these charges. I'm not sure if anyone could have done better, given the rulings on the voice analysis, but I'm more than a little disgusted.

The Princess Bride by William Goldman

The Princess Bride by William Goldman
My rating: 4 of 5 stars


This movie, and the book, occupied a central place in my childhood. It was the selection for my bookclub for June, and my copy is in storage in Oregon, so I requested a copy from the library, which I just finished.

I find, distressingly, that while the story remains charming in broad outlines, there's a disconcerting and constant thread of sexism running through the entire novel that kept smacking the adult me in the face each time I tried to slip into a beloved book from childhood.

Peripheral female characters are silly: Goldman's author-narrator is forced to edit away pages and pages of accounts about their clothing, their hat collections, their packing and unpacking. Buttercup's principal virtues, in an adventure story, are her beauty and her faithfulness. In the book, unlike in the movie, Westley (as the Man in Black) actually strikes Buttercup, instead of just threatening it, as he does in the movie. She is entirely without agency, and in many instances is portrayed as being more than a little stupid. But that doesn't matter! She's the Most Beautiful Woman in the Word, preoccupied with an exercise routine that will render her pudgy wrist thinner, and her bony wrist more plump!

The one time that she takes any initiative, it's to jump in the water to get away from her kidnappers. This, of course, cannot be the correct course of action: she requires rescuing from sharks immediately. There are no other, competent women to take the onus off of Buttercup carrying a banner for all women in story, and that she is the only option makes me sad for the little girl I was, reading this story, and for any little girl who reads it today.

It's still as charming as ever, in places, but this time around the sexism was enough to spoil the read for me. I can't quite bring myself to downgrade it like I would if it were a new read, but it's not the perfect novel I once thought it.

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Repost: The Death Penalty

There is no easy answer. There's not supposed to be.

I oppose the death penalty almost all of the time, but there have been a few men (it's almost always men) who I might have made an entirely emotion-based exception for, despite firm convictions that it's not a deterrent, that it's an abuse of the power of the state.  Typically, those crimes are crimes of mass murder, like Timothy McVeigh, when one person took the lives of so many others that it's impossible not to think he deserves something terrible to balance out what he did.

But the problem is that there's no balancing a crime of the scope that crosses the threshold for me. Once you've killed enough people that I think you might not deserve to live, your death would never be enough to balance the scales. There's no justice and no reparations.

So watching Rick Perry talk about the death penalty in Texas, and hearing the crowd at the Reagan library cheer his dubious record as the killingest-governor of modern times, I felt cold. Chilled. A little disgusted by my fellow citizens. I don't believe that Christians, as the audience would surely identify themselves (though to be fair I do not claim Christianity), are to rejoice at the death of another person.

I've been thinking a lot about this clip from the West Wing episode "Take this Sabbath Day."  In it, the President meets with his boyhood priest on the evening of the first federal execution to take place while he's been in office. The President, a Catholic, didn't believe in the death penalty, but politically there was no real cover for staying the execution. This scene was the last time Karl Malden would appear on film, and it's so powerful. I learned recently that it's based on the first execution that Ronald Reagan presided over, as governor of California.

The contrast is telling, to me. I imagine Ronald Reagan, kneeling with a minister in the governor's office, seeking guidance or forgiveness. Ronald Reagan, the patron saint of the modern Republican party, was ambivalent about the death penalty, but now the people who profess to admire him would likely kick him out of the party for this view and others.

It's not supposed to be easy, though.  Whatever else I believe, I know it's not ever supposed to be easy to end the life of another person.

ETA:  This family leaves me speechless with their grace and their compassion.

First posted to a previous blog, 9/14/2011.

Roasting Chicken on the Grill

Even though tonight was a night we had agreed on quick and easy takeout dinner, there was going to be a loaf of fresh bread from Flour Water Salt Yeast. That seemed like a tragic oversight, but it's hot here.

The oven was already going to be taken up with bread, and leaving it on for more than an hour would heat the house to unacceptable levels. We had to make something on the grill to go with the fresh bread.

So I did some quick Googling and pretty quickly settled on roasting a chicken on the grill. The recipe seemed simple enough, and though it included a step that chilled me a little, I knew that the payoff would likely be worth it.

So, the spine of the chicken was cut out with kitchen shears:

God, the noises this made as it happened. It's almost enough to make a girl go back to being a vegetarian. But only almost.

It was still raw at this point, but it smelled delicious!

So, not long after I took this picture, we discovered that the tank was out of propane, so we had to finish ALL of dinner in the oven after all.  Not ideal, but better than wasting a free-range chicken and running to Panda Express for an emergency dinner.

All in all, I'm really pleased with how this chicken turned out, and I will definitely try it again as soon as I get the propane tank swapped out.

Also, the bread was amazing. If you've got a chance to pick up that book, you should.

Sharp Things by Gillian Flynn

Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn
My rating: 5 of 5 stars


Here is a book that left me a little conflicted, if only because the last 40 pages or so felt a little underdeveloped. I cared a lot about that loosely sketched ending because I had enjoyed the book SO MUCH up to that point that even a hint of rushing to the conclusion was frustrating. That said? I still can't bring myself to deduct a full star for that.

Gillian Flynn is a better writer as of her third book, but even her first book is head and shoulders above most of what is being published right now.

This will be the last of the Gillian Flynn for me, until she publishes something new. I have enjoyed every last one of them as dark and twisty as they all can be, in their individual ways. They have the same sort of edge to them that a lot of Stephen King does, but without even a hint of the supernatural element that King cannot resist including, most of the time. These are just small town Midwesterners acting badly, and it feels really true, even when the plot takes a dark or even shocking turn.



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Ira Glass on Being Creative

Important words for creative people. I love Ira Glass.

Fandom and Misogyny 2013--The Glimmer of Hope Edition

So, it's summer, and the Sci Fi/Fantasy and Comic conventions are in full swing around the country. Every summer, I hold my breath and wait for the inevitable news about a woman being harassed or groped or publicly disrespected at some convention or another. It always happens at least once. The particulars may be different from incident to incident, but you can practically set your watch to some insecure or predatory asshole reminding us all, through a chosen woman, that those spaces, that the assorted geek fandoms, don't belong to us. We're just visitors. Ornamentation. A punchline. An object of both desire and then, of course, ridicule.

Cons have been complicit, for a long time, of letting it happen. Or worse, of covering it up. Of apologizing or making excuses when the harassers have had more power than the women they were denigrating, which is almost always. Whether that cover-up took the form of "Well, that's just how Harlan ACTS" or "I'm sure that he's just social awkward" it's all bullshit.

This summer, safe spaces at cons have a champion, in the form of Sci Fi luminary John Scalzi. Scalzi recently posted the account of his friend Elise Matthesen, about her experience being sexually harassed by a prominent (in the genre, at least) man at WisCon.* She did not include the name of her harasser in her account, fearing that he would retaliate against her legally. The lawyer in me thinks that's wise, even as my inner reader really wants to know who it was so that I can refrain from ever lining his pocket with my own book money again.

And into this cesspool of constant disappointment comes John Scalzi. He announced on his blog that he would no longer accept invitations to attend/be the Guest of Honor at conventions unless those conventions met three conditions:

1. That the convention has a harassment policy, and that the harassment policy is clear on what is unacceptable behavior, as well as to whom those who feel harassed, or see others engaging in harassing behavior, can go for help and action. 

2. That the convention make this policy obvious by at least one and preferably more than one of the following: posting the policy on their Website, placing it in their written and electronic programs, putting up flyers in the common areas, discussing the policy at opening ceremonies or at other well-attended common events. 

3. In cases when I am invited as a Guest of Honor, personal affirmation from the convention chair that a harassment policy exists, that it will be adequately publicized to conventiongoers, and that all harassment complaints will be dealt with promptly and fairly, with no excuses or rationalizations for delaying action when such becomes necessary.

Scalzi has consistently used his fame and his power as SFWA president for the side of Good, and this is just another example that makes me glad he has the power and the voice in the genre that he does.  His weight can only improve con-going for everyone but the creepers, and they've had a free ride at most cons for far too long. He's also added a thread for all parties--congoers, artists, editors, writers, etc--to co-sign his policy and claim it as their own. The chorus of "Amens" might just make a difference at cons with wishy-washy or unenforced sexual harassment policies.

I've been to fancons, but none recently. On the whole, they were not positive, welcoming experiences.  My experiences at Gen Con were often extremely unpleasant as an apparently single woman, and I stopped going to the convention floor to look at merchandise booths by myself because doing so meant subjecting myself to repeated groping. I waited until my partner or his friends were available to come along, and when they were with me, I was safe from creepers. For the record, I wasn't particularly provocatively dressed, nor did I make any indication that I wanted anonymous strangers to grab my ass when my back was turned, whatever would invite said behavior.

In the end, this culture persists at cons because for too long, it was excused or ignored. It's an extension of the privilege and entitlement that is extended to men in our culture as a whole, but at conventions dedicated to creating worlds that mirror our own without precisely replicating it, we would seem to have a unique opportunity to do better.

This might just be a singular first step in that endeavor. You can find lots of really good stuff out there on how to be an ally, if this subject gets your back up like it does mine.


*Naively, I opined on my last blog that WisCon was a convention where one is likely to be "safe" from the kind of harassment that seems to be endemic at other conventions. Guess not.

A Google Fan Girl Says Goodbye to GReader

I have been using Google Reader from almost Day One, and I can hardly believe that it's gone. For me, it felt like one of the best, most successful of the myriad products that Google offered, and I have used MANY of them.

I've already tried two replacements. I started with Bloglovin, amd though it was reasonably similar to what I had left behind, the organizational tools felt clunkier than I felt was ideal. So I switched to Feedly, and while I am not quite satisfied yet, I'm willing to stick around for a while to see if they hammer out the irksome details.

It's possible that one of these days, one of the new offerings that have popped up to replace GReader will be as good, as familiar, as GReader. I suspect it's more of a learning curve issue, at this point, but I still find myself missing my old buttons, and the old ways of sharing great blogs with other friends who use Google products in the same obsessive way I do.

Anyone else find a replacement they really like? What's good about it?

Service Industry PSA

Dear parent-types--

When your kids are old enough to start handling money on their own, please be sure you teach them what "keep the change" really means. It is not a way to avoid getting three cents back from the barista: it's how you give a tip. To use it like a de facto penny jar is pretty damn rude.

Love, the next lady in line at the coffee shop.