It's hard to ignore the Duggar family. Between their frequent appearances on "The Today Show", People Magazine, and TV show on TLC they get a lot of media coverage. Lots of people admire their large family, the fact that they are debt-free and self-sufficient and the strong family unit they seem to have created. On the other hand, lots of people criticize them for having child after child. Every time Michelle Duggar has another baby people start asking, "Is 16 (or 17, or 18) enough for them?" This got louder after the precipitous birth of their 19th baby, who was delivered at 25 weeks via emergency c-section. Michelle Duggar almost died, as did their baby. Wouldn't this be enough for them? Wasn't God trying to send them a sign that they'd had enough?
To me, the worst are the people who not only question how many children they have but do so in an incredibly crass way. They make rude comments about the size of Michelle Duggar's vagina, or about what her body must look like. They say crude things about their sex life. They insult their religious beliefs. On a more practical level, they express concern about the toll that 21 pregnancies and 19 births have taken on Michelle Duggar's health and worry further pregnancies could result in Michelle's death.
Most of the harsh judgements seem to come from people who are young or at least liberal and pro-choice. Hey, that pretty much sounds like how I describe myself! (Although at almost 30 I'm quickly reaching a point where describing myself as "young" will result in raised eyebrows and patronizing nods.) I guess when you put your life out for public consumption you must be prepared for the public's judgement. That being said, I strongly dislike the judgement they face, particularly when the criticizers identify as pro-choice.
Full disclosure: I am pro-choice. I believe in birth control and that it's my right as a woman to control when I get pregnant. I believe that it's appropriate for me to decide how many children my husband and I are capable of supporting. I believe that, regardless of how I feel about abortion specifically, it's not my choice or anyone's choice whether or not a woman should continue a pregnancy. When it comes to other women's reproductive choices I can feel however I want it is not my right to decide what is right for another woman. That is something that is between her, her husband or partner, doctor, and God.
But here's the thing about being pro-choice: pro-choice isn't just about abortion. Pro-choice is about supporting a woman's right to make reproductive choices that work for her and her family. It's also about supporting her right to choose her job, marriage, family and life. The Duggars aren't on government assistance which makes their family choices even less relevant to the hordes of smug people that like to get on the horn to say how wrong they are. (And please, don't start with me about the overpopulation myth. The fertility in the U.S. is just over 2.06 children born per woman, while most of the rest of the Western world's numbers are under 2 children per woman. (On a simple level it takes 2.0 children per woman for population replacement.) The places in the world that have higher rates are pretty much across the board third world countries where many children may not even make it out of infancy. (The problems our world faces aren't from overpopulation but from overconsumption.)) You might not agree with the choice to have so many kids, but to say their choice is wrong, to say things that are insulting, go against the feminist principles of being pro-choice. We should be seeking equality to ensure woman are allowed to make choices about sex. their sexuality and their reproductive choices. Pro-choice women who talk about how terrible the Duggars are just as bad as the pro-life women who condemn women for choosing abortion. If you are truly pro-choice and truly a feminist then that means respecting the choices made by other women, even if we personally don't agree with them.
And I have just one word for the people who say ugly things said about Michelle Duggar's vagina and body: PATHETIC.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Sunday, December 11, 2011
The best thing ever.
When your neighbor comes to your door at 7 PM and asks if you saw any suspicious activity at his house last night because someone broke into his place.
And then I got down my ninja sword and went to sleep next to it.
And then I got down my ninja sword and went to sleep next to it.
Friday, December 9, 2011
I liked painting
My intelligence is above-average. I'm not being conceited, it's a tested fact that my IQ is about 132. As I think I've made clear in other posts, I like to occasionally test my intelligence by doing things that are sort of dumb. In June I decided I'd had enough of the extremely hideous paint in our master bedroom and bathroom. At some point one of the previous owners went in with a sprayer and painted the walls, ceiling, and trim in an off-white that closely resembled nicotine stains. Then the walls were painted a sort of lavender that was disgusting. Seriously, I think I need trauma counseling after looking at it day in and day out for almost a year. The trim and ceilings were left nicotine white. Additionally, we have fourteen foot vaulted ceilings, and instead of doing the tedious work of painting a neat line they just used a style I like to call "indifferent" so paint was all over the ceiling. My idealistic hope was that my eyes were playing tricks on me and that the ceiling only looked beige. I hoped I would be able to use ceiling white just in the edges.
If you have average reading comprehension skills and you've been following my blog with even minimal dedication you might remember that I had a baby in April. One thing I haven't mentioned is that I had a baby who felt that sleep was optional, but that constantly being held was critical. So here's what I had: a baby with only minimal interest in sleep and a high need to be held; a two-year-old; and ugly bedroom paint. Also I didn't want to paint the bathroom and bedroom the same color. I did what any person would do: rather than wait for a more opportune time I opted for instant gratification. I bought a gallon of paint and hastily painted the bathroom. I looked great, especially since most of it wasn't done. It says something for the previous color that my lazy handiworked looked better. Eventually I got sick of the mild anxiety that accompanied any trip to the bathroom and committed to finishing. I bought more paint, many, many paintbrushes, awesome blue tape and caulk.
I think I should let you in on a secret: it's much more fun to start a project then to continue working on it week in and week out. I got the bathroom done pretty quickly. The color was fairly dark and easily covered what I will now refer to as "vomit lavendar." I started encountering an issue when it came to doing the very top. Fourteen foot walls + eight foot ladder + five foot person = too short. Rather than buying a new ladder I moved on to the bedroom. When I picked out our paint I had two choices: buy a primer and paint or spring for the more expensive, awesome Behr Paint + Primer. Even though I'm usually known for eschewing products that will make my life easier, in this case I decided to use the more expensive Behr, thinking I would save time having to do only two coats, rather than two coats of primer and two coats of paint (that equals four coats; I know you don't come to my blog to do math).
I enthusiastically did the first coat on one wall. My initial reaction was disappointment. Vomit lavender was still extremely obviously. I cheered myself with the reminder I still needed a whole other coat. I let the one wall dry and applied another coat of paint. The results were still pretty much terrible. OK, this was not good. In rash optimism I decided that the lavender in the rest of the room was bouncing off the new color and once the other walls were done it would look fine. In an uncharacteristic burst of energy I focused on painting the whole bedroom twice (well...the parts I could reach without a tall ladder and without moving furniture). Can I even begin to describe the frustration I felt as I realized that I was going to need to do another coat of paint? This project was rapidly starting to suck. Now, this is where the details start to get fuzzy thanks to my lingering PTSD. At some point I went to use ceiling paint in the edges and learned that the ceilings were not, in fact, white. So I had to go back to Home Depot and buy supplies for ceiling painting and commit to buying a really, really tall ladder. By now the employees in the painting department and I were pretty much best friends.
If you can believe it, painting our ceilings was less fun then I'd been led to believe by numerous sources, mainly no one. Painting them actually only took one night, although when the sun is really bright I can see spots that could use a second coat, which I've solved by only spending time in my bedroom during nighttime hours. With the ceilings done and a tall ladder purchased I no longer had any excuse to not paint the top of the walls. We bought a Little Giant ladder which converts from A-Frame to extension to some other stuff I haven't learned because I hope to never use it in that capacity. First I did everything I could with the ladder in A-Frame. For some reason I was not excited to put the ladder into extension mode and be up twelve feet. Unfortunately the painting at the tippy top was not getting done by magic, no matter how much I prayed to the tooth fairy and Santa. Eventually I had to suck it up. To start with I had to go up on the ladder and tape and caulk. (Caulking ensures a straight line when your walls are heavily textured as ours are. Unless it just pulls up the paint, which might have happened to me and might have resulted in me screaming "FuckfuckfuckFUUUUCK" and throwing a paintbrush off the ladder.) Then I had to get up and paint. FOUR TIMES. Yes, the mutant vomit lavender paint required four coats of paint and I swear that I can still see spots that could use a fifth coat. Someday I will do that fifth coat while also consuming a fifth of Jameson.
The final indignity came when I tried to take down the tape and, as I mentioned earlier, the caulk pulled off a huge amount of paint. I had to climb up twelve feet and use a knife to cut the caulk through the tape so the paint didn't all come off with it. Did I mention that I also had to do this in the evening while Kent was working? With two small children asleep? Raise your hands if you agree that was pretty much my best idea ever. I couldn't wait though because when I'm working on a project I have to power through. Taking a day off turns into a week, which turns into a month which turns into Kent asking in anguish six months later, "Are you ever going to get this ladder out of room?" and me responding bitchily, "I can't because I'm still not done with the goddamn painting." Hence why I couldn't wait until another adult was in the house for me to undertake my knife-wielding tape removal.
Once the painting was done I could only think dark, vengeful thoughts towards Behr. I'm not one to file complaints. Usually I just harbor passive-aggressive hatred for a company until the end of time. In this case though, my mom convinced me to email Behr about my disappointment. One bored afternoon I finally did and they offered me a full refund on all four gallons of paint I purchased. So even though I wasn't happy about my results I no longer hate Behr. Also it took six weeks to do all the painting and now I need new carpet because I was too lazy to use a drop cloth. Also there is no way to paint around a bathtub, vanity and shower stall that does not feel mildly dangerous. And now I hate painting.
If you have average reading comprehension skills and you've been following my blog with even minimal dedication you might remember that I had a baby in April. One thing I haven't mentioned is that I had a baby who felt that sleep was optional, but that constantly being held was critical. So here's what I had: a baby with only minimal interest in sleep and a high need to be held; a two-year-old; and ugly bedroom paint. Also I didn't want to paint the bathroom and bedroom the same color. I did what any person would do: rather than wait for a more opportune time I opted for instant gratification. I bought a gallon of paint and hastily painted the bathroom. I looked great, especially since most of it wasn't done. It says something for the previous color that my lazy handiworked looked better. Eventually I got sick of the mild anxiety that accompanied any trip to the bathroom and committed to finishing. I bought more paint, many, many paintbrushes, awesome blue tape and caulk.
I think I should let you in on a secret: it's much more fun to start a project then to continue working on it week in and week out. I got the bathroom done pretty quickly. The color was fairly dark and easily covered what I will now refer to as "vomit lavendar." I started encountering an issue when it came to doing the very top. Fourteen foot walls + eight foot ladder + five foot person = too short. Rather than buying a new ladder I moved on to the bedroom. When I picked out our paint I had two choices: buy a primer and paint or spring for the more expensive, awesome Behr Paint + Primer. Even though I'm usually known for eschewing products that will make my life easier, in this case I decided to use the more expensive Behr, thinking I would save time having to do only two coats, rather than two coats of primer and two coats of paint (that equals four coats; I know you don't come to my blog to do math).
I enthusiastically did the first coat on one wall. My initial reaction was disappointment. Vomit lavender was still extremely obviously. I cheered myself with the reminder I still needed a whole other coat. I let the one wall dry and applied another coat of paint. The results were still pretty much terrible. OK, this was not good. In rash optimism I decided that the lavender in the rest of the room was bouncing off the new color and once the other walls were done it would look fine. In an uncharacteristic burst of energy I focused on painting the whole bedroom twice (well...the parts I could reach without a tall ladder and without moving furniture). Can I even begin to describe the frustration I felt as I realized that I was going to need to do another coat of paint? This project was rapidly starting to suck. Now, this is where the details start to get fuzzy thanks to my lingering PTSD. At some point I went to use ceiling paint in the edges and learned that the ceilings were not, in fact, white. So I had to go back to Home Depot and buy supplies for ceiling painting and commit to buying a really, really tall ladder. By now the employees in the painting department and I were pretty much best friends.
If you can believe it, painting our ceilings was less fun then I'd been led to believe by numerous sources, mainly no one. Painting them actually only took one night, although when the sun is really bright I can see spots that could use a second coat, which I've solved by only spending time in my bedroom during nighttime hours. With the ceilings done and a tall ladder purchased I no longer had any excuse to not paint the top of the walls. We bought a Little Giant ladder which converts from A-Frame to extension to some other stuff I haven't learned because I hope to never use it in that capacity. First I did everything I could with the ladder in A-Frame. For some reason I was not excited to put the ladder into extension mode and be up twelve feet. Unfortunately the painting at the tippy top was not getting done by magic, no matter how much I prayed to the tooth fairy and Santa. Eventually I had to suck it up. To start with I had to go up on the ladder and tape and caulk. (Caulking ensures a straight line when your walls are heavily textured as ours are. Unless it just pulls up the paint, which might have happened to me and might have resulted in me screaming "FuckfuckfuckFUUUUCK" and throwing a paintbrush off the ladder.) Then I had to get up and paint. FOUR TIMES. Yes, the mutant vomit lavender paint required four coats of paint and I swear that I can still see spots that could use a fifth coat. Someday I will do that fifth coat while also consuming a fifth of Jameson.
The final indignity came when I tried to take down the tape and, as I mentioned earlier, the caulk pulled off a huge amount of paint. I had to climb up twelve feet and use a knife to cut the caulk through the tape so the paint didn't all come off with it. Did I mention that I also had to do this in the evening while Kent was working? With two small children asleep? Raise your hands if you agree that was pretty much my best idea ever. I couldn't wait though because when I'm working on a project I have to power through. Taking a day off turns into a week, which turns into a month which turns into Kent asking in anguish six months later, "Are you ever going to get this ladder out of room?" and me responding bitchily, "I can't because I'm still not done with the goddamn painting." Hence why I couldn't wait until another adult was in the house for me to undertake my knife-wielding tape removal.
Once the painting was done I could only think dark, vengeful thoughts towards Behr. I'm not one to file complaints. Usually I just harbor passive-aggressive hatred for a company until the end of time. In this case though, my mom convinced me to email Behr about my disappointment. One bored afternoon I finally did and they offered me a full refund on all four gallons of paint I purchased. So even though I wasn't happy about my results I no longer hate Behr. Also it took six weeks to do all the painting and now I need new carpet because I was too lazy to use a drop cloth. Also there is no way to paint around a bathtub, vanity and shower stall that does not feel mildly dangerous. And now I hate painting.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Another win for Austria
Austria is a country that is roughly the size of Maine and I learned that from an exceedingly reliable source, Wiki Answers. Why not trust annoymous strangers when it comes to information I put on my blog? Slightly more reliably, the World Bank puts the population of Austra at about 8.4 million while the population in the US is just over 307 million. Austria has had two high profile cases of imprisonment of young girls in the last five years. Of course, the case of Josef Fritzl who held his daughter Elisabeth for 24 years and fathered three children with her; and the case of Wolfgang Priklopil who kidnapped 10-year-old Natascha Kampusch and held her for eight years before she escaped and he did everyone a favor by throwing himself under the wheels of a train and dying. The US has had two high profile cases, that of Jaycee Dugard kidnapped by Phillip Garrido, and Shawn Hornbeck and Ben Ownby who were kidnapped four and a half years apart by Michael Devlin. Now, I'm too lazy to look up all the high profile child kidnapping and imprisonments in the United States but it does seem like maybe Austria has had a little more than their fair share.
I started thinking about this because of an article I read today about the kidnapping of Natascha Kampusch. I just want to remind you all that at the time she was TEN-YEARS-OLD. You know what I was doing at ten? Listening to Celine Dion and singing into my hair brush, playing Barbie, and fighting with my brother over who was going to get to play Mario in Mario Bros., and who was going to have to be the obviously less superior Luigi. Anyway, apparently there are suspicions that she may have had a baby that she disposed over at some point during her time in captivity. There are allegations of many different government officials colluding in a cover-up. I'm not believe in infanticide but I'm not sure what investigators are hoping to accomplish? First of all, there is a huge possibility that based on her age, lack of prenatal care, and delivering alone and at home that the baby was stillborn. Second, when this happened SHE WAS A CHILD. Alone, scared, and probably wishing to be playing with her dolls in the safety of her home. Since she was imprisoned I have no idea how she would have even gotten out to get rid of a body. She's also been accused of lying about her relatioship with her kidnapper. Although officially he was a stranger to her, some investigators believe that he may have been a friend of the family. In which case I say, so what? So I guess since maybe he knew her then it was OK? Maybe they were in on it together? You know, since ten-year-olds are totally capable of making those decisions. What are the authorities trying to prove? It smacked to me of blaming the victim for the crime perpertrated on her by a person whose only contribution to society was killing himself.
I think that we can all agree that, along with lederhosen and Kurt Waldheim, this is just another shining star for Austria.
I started thinking about this because of an article I read today about the kidnapping of Natascha Kampusch. I just want to remind you all that at the time she was TEN-YEARS-OLD. You know what I was doing at ten? Listening to Celine Dion and singing into my hair brush, playing Barbie, and fighting with my brother over who was going to get to play Mario in Mario Bros., and who was going to have to be the obviously less superior Luigi. Anyway, apparently there are suspicions that she may have had a baby that she disposed over at some point during her time in captivity. There are allegations of many different government officials colluding in a cover-up. I'm not believe in infanticide but I'm not sure what investigators are hoping to accomplish? First of all, there is a huge possibility that based on her age, lack of prenatal care, and delivering alone and at home that the baby was stillborn. Second, when this happened SHE WAS A CHILD. Alone, scared, and probably wishing to be playing with her dolls in the safety of her home. Since she was imprisoned I have no idea how she would have even gotten out to get rid of a body. She's also been accused of lying about her relatioship with her kidnapper. Although officially he was a stranger to her, some investigators believe that he may have been a friend of the family. In which case I say, so what? So I guess since maybe he knew her then it was OK? Maybe they were in on it together? You know, since ten-year-olds are totally capable of making those decisions. What are the authorities trying to prove? It smacked to me of blaming the victim for the crime perpertrated on her by a person whose only contribution to society was killing himself.
I think that we can all agree that, along with lederhosen and Kurt Waldheim, this is just another shining star for Austria.
One more problem
When we change our television input to the one for our Blu-Ray player (usually by accident), the Blu-Ray automatically turns on. Then we have to wait until it's on to turn it off and change the input to whatever we actually wanted. This takes approximately six seconds, which feels like much more when you're eager to start watching "The Walking Dead."
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
First World Problems
Kent took the good pillow, so now I have to sleep on the other pillow.
I dropped my smartphone and now I have to use a phone with a cracked screen.
My Thanksgiving leftovers won't fit in my fridge.
I can't hear the TV over my dishwasher.
I ordered clothes for the kids from Gap.com but the left a shirt out of my order and I had to wait three more days.
I wanted a bagel for breakfast but I didn't have cream cheese.
I painted my office yellow but now I don't like it and I want to paint it blue.
The kids have too many toys and they don't all fit in the toy bins.
Our internet went out yesterday and interrupted the movie we were watching.
I got a refund check on some paint I bought, and my bank doesn't have a drive-thru deposit box so now I have to go in.
What are your first world problems? I know you have them.
I dropped my smartphone and now I have to use a phone with a cracked screen.
My Thanksgiving leftovers won't fit in my fridge.
I can't hear the TV over my dishwasher.
I ordered clothes for the kids from Gap.com but the left a shirt out of my order and I had to wait three more days.
I wanted a bagel for breakfast but I didn't have cream cheese.
I painted my office yellow but now I don't like it and I want to paint it blue.
The kids have too many toys and they don't all fit in the toy bins.
Our internet went out yesterday and interrupted the movie we were watching.
I got a refund check on some paint I bought, and my bank doesn't have a drive-thru deposit box so now I have to go in.
What are your first world problems? I know you have them.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
How to pick a couch
When Kent and I got married one of our first big purchases was a new couch. Before we got our couch we used a futon. Want to know a secret about futons? They can be either an uncomfortable couch or an uncomfortable bed! Pretty cool! Also they have a tendency to make the room they're in look like a dorm. So because we were adults (and you can tell that because we filed joint tax returns) we figured we needed to buy a couch and get rid of the futon. Or, more accurately move it into our guest room in an effort to discourage people for staying with us for more than one night.
So we went to a local furniture store and started looking around. We found a couch we liked, along with a coffee table and two end tables. We arranged for delivery and waited excitedly. We were going to have real furniture! We wouldn't have a bed in our living room anymore! We'd have place to put our beer! I was at work when it was delivered but Kent was home. He called after it was dropped off and I was frankly bursting with excited. "So...how does it look??"
There was a long pause. Long pauses are always harbingers of doom.
"Well...it's a little big."
A little big? I waved good-bye to the vision I had of our living room.
When I got home I exactly what he meant. Instead of having a sofa in our living room, we had a living room around our sofa. As it turns out, we weren't really great at assessing how it would actually fit into the room. No big deal though. It would be fine and someday we'd have a house instead of a condo and it would work much better.
Then we moved, and once again our couch wore the living room. Now, I realize in the grand scheme of problems this doesn't even qualify but it was kind of annoying. We also had a front room now and it was extremely bare. It made sense to move our huge, comfortable couch to the front room and buy something smaller for the living room. I was excited of course. I started looking at Pottery Barn and Crate and Barrel to get an idea of how much we could expect to spend. Now, I have to tell you that I have expensive taste but I'm also really cheap. So I'll admire and wish but when it comes time to pull out the Visa I almost always walk away. Initially most of the couches I looked at were in the $600 - $1000 range. At first this even seemed reasonable. I wanted a couch that we could use for years, with classic lines and fabric. Durable and comfortable.
Then Kent told me a story about how, when he was 9 or 10 he and his brothers had a babysitter. In the course of playing he threw up in his family's couch. I interrupted to ask what the babysitter did. He gave me a weird look. Throwing up was not the main part of the story.
"Nothing."
I pressed on. "Well what did you do?" Again, the look.
"Nothing. I was only nine."
"So wait. You threw up in your couch and just left it? What did your parents do?"
A more thoughtful look. "I'm not sure they knew."
And then the next day we went and bought a couch for $300 with a fully removable, washable cover. And that's how you pick a couch when you have kids.
So we went to a local furniture store and started looking around. We found a couch we liked, along with a coffee table and two end tables. We arranged for delivery and waited excitedly. We were going to have real furniture! We wouldn't have a bed in our living room anymore! We'd have place to put our beer! I was at work when it was delivered but Kent was home. He called after it was dropped off and I was frankly bursting with excited. "So...how does it look??"
There was a long pause. Long pauses are always harbingers of doom.
"Well...it's a little big."
A little big? I waved good-bye to the vision I had of our living room.
When I got home I exactly what he meant. Instead of having a sofa in our living room, we had a living room around our sofa. As it turns out, we weren't really great at assessing how it would actually fit into the room. No big deal though. It would be fine and someday we'd have a house instead of a condo and it would work much better.
Then we moved, and once again our couch wore the living room. Now, I realize in the grand scheme of problems this doesn't even qualify but it was kind of annoying. We also had a front room now and it was extremely bare. It made sense to move our huge, comfortable couch to the front room and buy something smaller for the living room. I was excited of course. I started looking at Pottery Barn and Crate and Barrel to get an idea of how much we could expect to spend. Now, I have to tell you that I have expensive taste but I'm also really cheap. So I'll admire and wish but when it comes time to pull out the Visa I almost always walk away. Initially most of the couches I looked at were in the $600 - $1000 range. At first this even seemed reasonable. I wanted a couch that we could use for years, with classic lines and fabric. Durable and comfortable.
Then Kent told me a story about how, when he was 9 or 10 he and his brothers had a babysitter. In the course of playing he threw up in his family's couch. I interrupted to ask what the babysitter did. He gave me a weird look. Throwing up was not the main part of the story.
"Nothing."
I pressed on. "Well what did you do?" Again, the look.
"Nothing. I was only nine."
"So wait. You threw up in your couch and just left it? What did your parents do?"
A more thoughtful look. "I'm not sure they knew."
And then the next day we went and bought a couch for $300 with a fully removable, washable cover. And that's how you pick a couch when you have kids.
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