flexible thinking

I had this conversation with J the other day that got me thinking about kids and how they receive and process information, and form opinions and ideas. It went something like this:

J: Jen's boyfriend proposed to her last week in front of all the kids and the other staff!
K: Jen?
J: the daycare worker. She has a little baby with her boyfriend and now they're getting married! He gave her a diamond ring and it's really pretty!
K: that's what you do when you ask someone to marry you. You give them a ring.
J: You do?
K: Yeah, it's like a tradition.
J: oh. [pause] Well it was a really nice ring. She cried with joy!

So two things struck me about this conversation. First, that J didn't have the slightest bit of confusion about the fact that her daycare worker had had a baby and then decided to get married. Second, that she had more trouble with the idea of giving a diamond ring as a gift when proposing marriage. Is this just indicative of the society she is exposed to, or is it completely attributable to my influence?

I'm not the most conventional person. I wasn't even legally married to J's father. She doesn't have the same last name as me, but rather carries his (a thing that sometimes irks me now that she is mostly mine, but that's another post). Even the fact that I am a single parent is kind of odd, even though most of J's friends' mothers are also single, since most of her schoolmates come from two-parent families.

But I was raised with a consciousness of differences, be they sexual identity or religion or skin colour...mostly because I fell into a number of those categories myself. My mom was a feminist and hung around with lesbians for quite a few years in my youth. I still have many "moms." I'm Jewish, and I remember when I was about to start high school, my mom sitting down with me to explain that some people, for no good reason, don't like Jewish people, and I might get called hurtful names when people found out I was Jewish. I just never had any problem accepting people who looked different from me or who liked girls instead of boys, or whatever. As long as they weren't assholes, they could do whatever or look however they wanted.

When I explained about the giving of the ring and the marriage proposal, I noticed myself deliberately not using genders to describe this exchange. I realized partway through the explanation that, by the time J grows up, same-sex marriage will probably be quite commonplace. After all, it was only a generation ago that drunk driving was socially acceptable, even cool, and now it's an offense that is not only frowned upon by society, but it carries quite harsh penalties under the laws of most jurisdictions. A generation before that, women were only just being allowed to vote -- a thing that would seem ludicrous were it still prohibited today.

If we play our cards right, our children will be the most tolerant and open-hearted people ever to walk this planet and make the rules that govern this country. I'm not saying there are not narrow-minded, ignorant people in the world, still procreating and continuing to instill their irrational hatreds and fears in their children. Unfortunately, we have daily proof that there are. However, I feel proud that my daughter will be accepting of all kinds of people, not because she is coerced into it, but because it is part of her world. If only we could all think so flexibly.

ok so the Texas Biscuit thing.

Here are the rules:

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
5. Don't you dare dig for that "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest.

Reaching over to the bookshelf beside my desk, the closest thing was The Last Temptation by Nikos Kazantzakis.

"He sloshed through the mud in the blue half-light, anxious to reach the lake of Gennesaret. The bitterness of all he had seen in Nazareth had already begun to settle down calmly within him. The crucified Zealot had become a distant memory and Jacob's mind was once again dominated by his father's fishing boats and men: by everyday concerns."

Make it stop!

Okay, so now that I have purchased my new-to-me car (a 1998 Corolla, not the Mazda I posted about earlier), how do I turn off the urge to shop for cars???? I've been doing it for so long, like 4 months now, that it's like second nature to fire up buysell.com and surf through ads. Actually what it feels like is when I was pregnant, and near the end of my pregnancy I kept thinking I would never get used to the absence of the sensation of having a person inside my belly. Okay so it's a weird analogy. But that's what it feels like.

I am officially sick of car shopping.

Yesterday I test-drove and put a deposit on a 1998 Mazda Protege. It's a solid car, nice and clean, 5 speed 4 door with power group and CD player. Pretty much has everything I want. The price is a little high, but I realize I have to either compromise my perks or my price, since it seems pretty clear that unless I devote my every waking minute to securing the absolute best possible deal, there's no way I'm going to get everything I want for a price less than what this car costs. And I am unwilling and unable to put any more energy into this thing!

The thing is, I would really like to just pay cash for it. Unfortunately I don't think I'm going to be able to do it, even though that was my original idea and intention with this project. So now I'm grappling with the concept of a payment plan, which I will have to enter into even if I get 2/3 of it paid off in the next 3 weeks, which is pretty likely.

It's all just stressing me out. And I've ceased to be able to see the forest for the trees here. This car has everything I need and want, it's a reliable car, and I like it! It's "me," I suppose. But I can't quite trust it all the way, I think because I am so exhausted by the whole process, my consciousness is muddled. And I'm in information overload. Blah.

drive me to distraction

As I was driving home from work this evening, I felt my cell phone vibrate in my pocket. I fumbled for it, and just as I was opening it to take my call, I noticed I was driving through a cloud of marijuana smoke. I didn't think much of it because this is BC and wherever you are, you probably know that BC has a reputation for a large amount of marijuana consumption.

I concluded my call having had to make no trickier a manoeuvre than stopping at a red light and observing a few crosswalks, and noticed that I was still in the marijuana cloud. The call was short, but I'd still travelled several blocks. Then I noticed smoke issuing from the driver's side window of the small sports car in front of me. A short time later that car moved off to turn left, and as soon as I was clear of him, I became clear of the bud odour.

Which got me thinking, what is more dangerous, driving a car under the influence of conversation, or under the influence of cannabis? I think while we were engaging in our respective distractions we were both driving more slowly than we needed to on the otherwise deserted roadway, which doesn't seem too dangerous...but obviously people do get in accidents under these conditions. Probably neither of us should have been doing anything but driving.

"congratulations kid, you're a capitalist"

When I told my stepdad that I own Martha Stewart Omnimedia stock, that's what he told me.

This development, by the way, is thanks to my grandmother, who is apparently beginning to divest as she nears death. Not that she's ill or anything, just that she thinks she's about to die, when the opinion of the rest of the family is that she will outlive us all.

I just wanted to say that so you don't think I ran out and bought this of my own free will. Because I didn't. Although now I guess I'll have to go get a safe deposit box to put my piece of Martha in.

doh!

Six more weeks of winter. You read it here first.

oh it's you darling!

This morning as I was pulling on my tall boots with the square toes and the chunky heels I was thinking about fashion and style. I am privileged to know a few people who have an impeccable fashion sense, as well as an interesting and comprehensive personal style, not the least of whom is Bella, and also my friend Nat. I do not have this innate sense, and it's something I kind of lament.

Maybe it began when I was a little kid growing up with a single hippie mum and not much money? Hmm. Well Bella and Nat had the same kind of upbringing, so that can't be it.

Maybe it was because I went to a hippie high school with a bunch of freaks who cared more about finding a reliable dope dealer and wearing clothes that would assist them in their drug trips? I think now we're getting somewhere. I did kind of identify with that group, and even though Bella went to the same high school for part of the time, she was never really a hippie chick flower child like I was. Hell I was even a Deadhead for most of my 20s.

So yeah, then I was a girl who cared more about function than fashion, who didn't have the motivation or the money to spend on clothes and makeup.

Then I was a young mum and I was lucky to find a shirt that didn't smell like baby poo.

Now that I'm in my mid-30s, and in fact ever since I hit my 30s and actually began dating again (oh yeah, the fact that I spent age 19-29 in a LTR with a single man probably dampened my need or desire to make myself pretty) I have found myself taking the time and spending the money on clothes and makeup. And haircuts. I actually have a haircut that requires maintenance, which is kind of fun sometimes but mostly is a big pain.

The problem is that I still don't think I have a personal style. Take today for example. I'm wearing Old Navy boot-cut jeans, my aforementioned boots, a black stretchy scoop-neck t-shirt and a rust-coloured cotton blazer/jacket kind of thing. What does that say about me? I'm known to wear jeans or "work" slacks, skirts with boots or low-heeled shoes, opaque nylons or knee-high socks. Cotton shirts with or without buttons. Mostly muted colours, and even though I'm a bigger girl now, I wear form-fitting clothes because I think loose clothes, which bigger girls are supposed to wear, make me look fat.

Anyway, the whole point of this is that sometimes I wish the phrase "it's you!" referred to something else, or even something specific, when I try it on. Why are the square-toed chunky-heeled boots "me"? Why not pointy-toed, pointy-heeled boots? Why cotton 3/4-sleeve shirts and not cashmere sweaters? Is it because of my colouring? My body type? My job? Today, I wish I knew.