This Is Not Normal.

We just returned from Festival of the Arts in downtown GR. We go almost every year, despite the crazy crowds and questionable entertainment. It's the 25+ food tents that entice us, and while much of it is pretty tasty, it's not really the ideal way to have a meal: on foot, with paper-thin napkins, and ill-behaved humans of all ages stepping on our feet and elbowing us in the plates we're trying to not to spill.

Of course, the people watching is prime, if not somewhat disturbing. I know I'm weird. And most of my friends and loved ones are weird. But the weird we see in this crowd is in a different family of weird. I can't help but think: who are these weirdos and where did they come from? I don't know any of them, and yet Grand Rapids is not a big city. Do they hibernate all year and only come out for the first weekend in June?

I don't know the answer, but I'm definitely a little weirded out right now. 

The old guy dancing up front? He's good weird. The rest of you? Hmmm.

Ave Marie.

Today we heard the news that a loved figure in our community died. Because I didn't know her personally, I was a bit surprised by how profoundly sad I felt about it all day. I fought tears several times and choked on my words when I tried to talk with others about her.

She owned Marie Catrib's restaurant where she created inspired dishes made from fresh, whole, locally grown & raised "everything." Like everyone else in town, I never minded waiting for a seat, which was pretty much every time. 

But the food will live on, so why such sadness over a near stranger?

The thing was, she treated everyone she met like a dear friend. She remembered each individual. She connected with her customers personally at every spare moment. And, once, she was remarkably kind to us when our lunchmates' child went into a frenetic meltdown. 

She was special. And, I'm telling you, we could taste her heart and soul in every item on the menu, even if she didn't cook it herself.

Those of us who are so moved by her passing are so because she made us want to be better humans. Want to be motivated from a place of love and compassion, instead of all those other emotions. 

Yeah, I'm making a pretty big deal about her, but that's because she was.

Farewella!

Tonight we had a goodbye celebration for a co-worker whom I love in real life, but am not all that sad to see go in my other real life known as work. I won't go into the gory details; it's enough to say that I had an extra reason to give cheers tonight than the rest of my colleagues (as far as I know). In all fairness, I suspect the feeling is mutual.

For her final farewell tomorrow, I made a Nutella fondue, which turned out spectacular enough to share. Here is the recipe:

1 cup of heavy cream
8 oz. 70-80% cacao dark chocolate, chopped
1 cup of Nutella

In a medium saucepot, heat the cream on low heat until steaming but not boiling. Remove from heat and add the chocolate and Nutella. Let sit for a few minutes, then whisk until smooth. Transfer to a fondue pot set on low and serve. As far as I know this will  keep overnight and can be reheated the next day.

That was easy, but it's still about all I can handle this evening.

Nighty-night!

Do-Over #1.

In my final days of this year of blogging, I thought I might go back and request a few of do-overs. My first blunder happened on July 10, when the hour turned late and, after losing time floundering over the content of my post, I finally decided to confess that I had nothing satisfactory to share.

This is the offending post, with a few edits:

In class tonight, my instructor pronounced for me the Arabic names of the 22 countries in the Arab League. I giggled when she got to Palestine, as it is more enunciated: phelisteen. I thought, thankfully not aloud, hehe, 
f­ucking philistines.

In my house, this is a favorite way to express disgust for the artistically, culturally, and intellectually bankrupt. I also like knuckle draggers and mouth breathers. Sometimes in combination, depending on the severity of the case; always with that same modifier.

I couldn’t wait to get home and see if I could find the connection between Palestine, Philistia, and Philistinism and learn whether my insult had its founding in racial bigotry. Not because wanted it to, but so that I might figure out where its roots came from, and stop using it if I discovered it evolved from an ancient ethnic slur.

I’m not entirely sure what I’ve concluded after reading this, this, and this.

I'm inclined to believe that it was originally born out of groundless intolerance. Which is a damn shame because my use of it is entirely justified.

**6/17/2013 update**

Aggg. I just re-read this post in the light of day and, despite my efforts, it still sounds a bit to me like I'm saying something horrible about Palestinians. Palestinians are fine, as far as I know. Remarkably, I have two friends from Gaza: one who lives here in Michigan now and one who is over there. I like them. But I dislike philistines.    

Buzzed.

Last night I undid the tight bun my hair was twisted into (a look reserved for Sunday trips to the grocery store and the occasional weekday when I've snoozed an extra 20 minutes too long) and started finger-brushing through the snarls and curls. As I tried to tame the serpentine mass, a thought popped into my head: maybe I could shave it all off...?

I indulged for a few minutes in a fantasy in which I was not only bald and beautiful, but also sporting a different pair of earrings for every day of the year. I would need to invest in more sets, but that was a fixable problem.

When I felt sufficiently convinced that this was a brilliant idea, I interrupted Game of Thrones to ask, "Ben, would you still love me if I shaved my head?" And he replied, "Of course, I would love you just like a sister."

Though he was teasing, I suspected a hint of truth to it. But, then, he has stuck with me through other hair-related fiascoes, really bad eyeglass frame choices, and more than one drastic weight gain. I had a pretty good sense that he could handle it.

It's not like I need his permission, anyway, but I did feel like it would be fair to get some input from the person who wakes up next to me every day. Knowing he didn't really care was all I needed to put some more momentum behind my scheme.

But then I told facebook what I was thinking and (I should not be at all surprised) got an onslaught of opinions, including one not in favor emailed privately to me. What my friend said made a lot of sense, and I realized that shaving my head is not like changing my shade of lipstick. Does it need to be that extreme to be a liberating change? Probably not.

Of course, this morning, a friend who once had a star etched in the hair on the back of her head said she had been thinking about it for 10 years. We ended up talking for quite a while about why we would want to do it. And all that made sense, too.

Truth is, this is a big deal in my small world. But really it is just a pointless battle between embracing vanity and making a symbolic gesture to reject it. It is, in short, a silly thing to put so much brain power to. 

Good night, friends. 

Agreeing to Disagree.

Last night we went to see Bill Maher perform live. Being in arguably the most conservative city in Michigan, we wondered if we might be the only ones to show up. But the house was full and, at first, I felt comforted being surrounded by so many like-minded people. And, really, there are few instances when you can be more sure that you are with your kind than by choosing to be entertained by someone who has very specific, unwavering, and unapologetic opinions on politics, religion, sex, and social issues.

So, that was interesting for a few minutes until I remembered that liberals can be just as annoying as right-wingers. Well, almost. OK, not really even close. But they have their annoying moments. Like the couple in front of us who had possibly just returned from a sex therapy retreat and were still in the throes of their rekindled affection for one-another. That was a little uncomfortable.

The woman behind us had likely tipped back a few too many glasses of chardonnay, and had granted herself permission to burst out interchangeably in smug agreement and overzealous laughter.

I enjoyed the show immensely, but left it remembering that we can become complacent when sheltered in the arms of those we have no differences with. And in that safe place, we risk that we will stop growing and learning and seeking to form independent thoughts. And there's absolutely nothing progressive about that. 

 

Status Symbol.

The dreaded question for me whenever I meet new people is explaining what I do for a living. For starters, the name of my company is strange and usually has to be repeated more than once. By the third echo, we have to agree to move on, which is the point when I mention that our office is out by the airport. This has absolutely no significance, but it sometimes distracts the conversation from its original topic.

If it doesn't and I'm forced to persist, then it's time to explain what employee recognition is and what kind of copy I could possibly write for such an abstract concept. Couldn't we please talk politics instead? That would be so much less complicated!

People on the more senior end of my generation find it unnecessary. They believe that it's acknowledgement enough to get a paycheck and that they shouldn't be rewarded for showing up and doing their jobs as they're supposed to. This makes sense. Kind of. But if I believed that too much, I wouldn't be very good at what I do.

Feeling valued and appreciated is important to us as humans, not just workers. Factor in that the emerging workforce is filled will millennials who thrive on it in every aspect of their lives, and it becomes required practice.

Well, now that I feel like I'm trying to sell you a used car, let me get to my point. The other day we were having a conversation at work about how facebook has dramatically heightened our need for feedback. No matter what generation we're from, few of us can deny that likes are good. We like likes. The more likes we get, the more we feel clever, successful, resourceful, creative, beautiful...liked.

I started to type that this is probably a problem and why I think it is. But is it? If so, what is it that is created in us that is so wrong? Just wondering if anyone has any similar or differing thoughts on this...?