Deconstruction

The range of emotions and responses I have felt during the last month - vacillating between incandescent fury, nihilism, and ostriching (a new verb I have coined for burying ones head in the sand and ignoring things - in response to the Zimmerman acquittal, the punting of affirmative action, and the dismantling of the Voting Rights Act are things that I struggle with.  I thought about posting before, but what am I going to say? Why is what I have to say important?

It's not, really.  Because other people who deal with this can say it much better than me.  Like this.  And this.  And this.  And this.  And this.

So, time to not shut up about it, time not to ostrich.  That's not right.  Not sure how I'm going to do this, but keep listening, working, and yelling about injustice.  And, just as importantly, stepping out the way for other voices who are the ones who face this themselves rather than second hand me.

Summer Hours

Summer. It's great. 

Well, mostly. The garden is thriving, thanks to a sweaty, damp June and, so far, July is rather similar. In May, TOH wrangled the hose out from the basement but, other than testing it that first day, it has remained unused, thanks to the frequent outbursts of rain. 

Still, there is enough good weather to warrant time outdoors. My new job (even after a year, it's "my new job") moves to summer hours come June. Then it's 10-6, and July and August see me doing 9-5. I am an owl rather than a lark, it's true, and thus I'm not always overjoyed by this change. Nonetheless, this year I'm determined to take advantage of it. We've been weeding, eating, grilling, and just reading outside, a lot.

Last Thursday saw us take advantage by having me plonk down my bags to save space in Brooklyn bridge park for a few of us to watch Ferris Bueller's Day Off. The best part was undoubtedly the viewing of Twist and Shout where almost the entire audience got up and danced. It was glorious. 

There's something almost alive about the atmosphere - the air hums with it - when watching a much loved movie with people who love it as much as you. Last year we saw Coming to America at a Brooklyn institution, and both She's Your Queen solo and the Soul-Glo commercial were lustily belted out by the crowd. Usually I am the grinch of movie watching - I glare, tut, and hiss at crunching, chatting, texting, and all other distractions. But among a throng, it could not be better.  

While the Cat's Away...

...the mouse drinks a lot of rosé, listens to Round the Horne and other Radio 4 Extra gems, catches up on discobelle, dancing astronaut, and other fab sources of electronica to download, watches a lot of Psych and Fringe, and eats aubergine.

On the menu this week, as well: bowling, barbecuing, and enjoying my last week of 11am work starts until September. Bring it!

Just for One Day

The saying goes that you should never meet your heroes - you don't want to be disappointed.  Not that Bradley Wiggins is a "hero" of mine, in the full on sense, but I have greatly admired him - strong, disciplined, seems to not treat cycling as the be all and end all, AND he trained in South London's Herne Hill (not that far from where I grew up).

Still, sometimes you shouldn't know too much about what your heroes think.

According to an interview reported in The Guardian, Wiggins described his poor descent after a crash in the Giro D'Italia as descending "like a bit of a girl really after the crash ... Not to disrespect girls, I have one at home."

The part that of that statement that I find almost gloriously ludicrous is the "not to disrespect girls, I have one at home." Okay, the first part is awful, and sexist, regardless - he explicitly links a poor, timid, physically weak and lacking performance to being like a girl.  Not a boy - not a young, callow, weaker male, but a female. Then, beautifully, he says that's not disrespecting girls - ha! Of course not - how could one possibly find it disrespectful?

The next bit is my favourite, however. He then somehow tries to ameliorate his sexism with a take on the classic "some of my best friends are black/gay/women" shtick - it's okay that he said it, because he has a daughter. So he, and that statement, clearly couldn't be sexist - Q.E.D.  Duh.  If you don't get that, clearly you are ignoring the fact that he and his wife bore a daughter.

Actually, in some ways I think it's worse that he has a daughter and said it - his poor daughter. How awful to know that you have a father who associates weak and losing performances with being a girl - like her. Oh, I'm sure he'd argue, not her - because she's different, I'm sure. But he lives with her, supposedly loves her, and yet thinks this.

Yes, he'd had a big disappointment in the race. We have an awful lot of exposure to athletes, and that includes times when they're severely disappointed, angry, and frustrated. I personally loathe the inside-the-locker-room thing that they do, particularly with U.S. sports - I don't want to invade what is an intensely private sphere. We don't go into a classroom to interview a teacher after she finds out that her students didn't pass an exam; we don't go into a partner's office after she loses a legal case. We should grant athletes some privacy, some space to be disappointed, angry, and frustrated.

Nonetheless, those spontaneous, off the cuff remarks can reveal a lot about someone's prejudices - be they on the basis of gender, race, sexuality, or anything else. And Wiggins, here, revealed that he thinks girls are weak. And then used his little girl to somehow, supposedly, defuse that.

Just awful.

Adventures in Breakfasting

Margaret Thatcher's funeral was today.  My intense dislike for her has meant that I'm not sorry for her passing, and I've been disappointed at some responses to her from people I'd expect more of, and been rather pleasantly surprised at the responses of some others I would not necessarily expect to be so clearly thoughtful, if imperfect.

Anyway, I'm over it.  The beeb has been going on about it, and in striving for balance I, of course, think they're attributing good things to her that clearly are not true. But there you go. 

On to more important things:  BREAKFAST. As an antidote to the Maggie love, and the sight of Osborne at the funeral, I decided that I wanted to listen to something rather different (the left-leaning tendencies of the good folks at TWIB FM), and enjoy a cup of Yorkshire tea (she didn't have much time for those folks, it seems), and eat a jolly breakfast. 

As mentioned previously on this blog, I'm experimenting with breakfasts. This is a new one that I've done A LOT in the last fortnight or so. Adapted from my friend's instagram posts, this is banana pancake breakfast joy for those who are NOT on the paleo diet (but think it has some great recipes). Why it's good? It's extraordinarily tasty, and has fruit and good protein.

Take one banana.  Mash it up with a fork in a bowl.  Then mix in an egg, salt, pepper.  Then spray a non-stick pan with oil spray (paleo folks use coconut oil, I used regular old pam olive oil spray), and pour into the pan over medium heat.  The thing is, the first few times I did this, they burned / got very messy.  Suddenly, however, I'm in a groove. The thing is to make a couple or three pancakes, with a thin spread, and WAIT. (In this time, I also fry an egg in another pan because, you know, I like eggs).

Waiting is key: you have to have the bottom of the pancake thoroughly cooked; the top can be slightly wobbly, but basically, you have to treat it like an egg that you'd flip, or a normal pancake. The first few times I did this, I had to burn the bottom to get it cooked, but I've managed the last couple of times to make it work right.

I then serve with the fried egg, sriracha (because YES), and fruit.