Anti-evolution teachings gain foothold in U.S. schools / Evangelicals see flaws in Darwinism

Anti-evolution teachings gain foothold in U.S. schools / Evangelicals see flaws in Darwinism

I don't even know how to respond when I read things like this. Usually, when I hear of such backwards thinking, I let myself believe that it's a small, freakish minority that's getting a lot of attention because their beliefs are just so out there. But is this moving into the mainstream? Is this something I'll have to deal with when my kids are in school (heh...yet another reason why I'm going to stay on the coast)?

If you scroll down through the article, you'll find a small bit about how Boards of Education in Texas affect the textbooks that large parts of the country use. They insisted that the publishers print that abstinence is the only form of birth control and that a marriage is a "lifelong union between a husband and a wife." They even disagree with the use of "partners" when talking about sex or birth control.

This makes me ill...

Weekend wrap-up

I'm finally back in San Francisco, after a busy and sleep-deprived weekend in L.A. Mae showed up on Friday so we went out in Hollywood to a club/bar that was desribed to us as the B- crowd: up and coming models/actors, if by up and coming, you mean "holds an Actor's Guild card but has never had a speaking role."

Saturday was more interesting...wedding dress shopping. Mae and Stella dragged me there practically kicking and screaming. I haven't pouted like that since I was seven. We went to Huge Bridal Chain (the one I promised myself I'd never go to--see? slippery slope) "just to get an idea of styles" and had to paw through tons and tons of hideous bejeweled, encrusted, embroidered tille confections before finding two I liked (and when I say "tons" I'm exaggerating only slightly...some of the dresses I tried on must've weighed about 15 pounds!). More interesting to me than the dresses were the saleswomen. The one assigned to help me get in and out of the dresses (and you really do need the assistance) was just going through the motions. Even though I said "no strapless dresses" about 15 times, she brought me one "just to see." On the other hand, a salewoman who was just drifting around helping people here and there hung out with us for a while and pretty quickly understood what I was going for. She nodded knowingly and pretty much said, "Anti-bride? Ah, yes. So let me guess: no tiara and no veil, right?" Smart lady. Not two minutes later, my assigned saleswoman sailed over and plunked a tiara on my head and stuck a veil in my hair. According to Stella, I had murder in my eyes. And Mae put it even better: "It just looked WRONG." I just liked how saleswoman #2 got it--even though she didn't necessarily agree with me, she understood that it's not about her vision of a wedding and a bride, it's about mine. And she tried to help me accomplish that. I wish more salespeople were like her.

It's all coming together. I think we may actually pull this off!

Gobble gobble

Happy belated Thanksgiving! Hope y'all had a good and tasty one. Mine started with the alarm clock ringing at 3:15 a.m. and leaving the apartment an hour later for the airport. Checking my bags in wasn't a problem, but I thought the fact that my name was printed incorrectly on my boarding pass--and therefore didn't exactly match my driver's license--was. But it wasn't. Which makes you wonder how effective TSA is. We boarded the flight on time, but sat on the tarmac for another hour, because...we had no pilot. So they called another one and we sat some more while he made his way to and through the airport.

Once I got home, I was off and running. We had pies to make, green beans to blanch, stuffing to mix and bake, a turkey to disassemble and roast (we decided to forego the whole bird this year--blasphemy, I know--so I requested that my family buy two large turkey breasts...and I got a 19-pound turkey), root vegetables to glaze, aaand naps to take. But it all turned out delicious!

Today was funnier. I talked to mom this morning about wedding dress designs and mentioned that I don't want a strapless dress. My mom acknowledged by saying, "Okay, no topless dresses." The entire resultant conversation was peppered with comments about "topless" dresses...it was hard to contain my giggles.

And the best part of today? My mom finally noticed my tongue ring...AFTER FOUR YEARS! Of course, she asked me how I could do something like that, and I just laughed and mumbled, "It's been four years...how's your wonton noodle soup?"

Shit!

SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!
In a bonehead move, I totally forgot the Amazing Race was on last night! Did anyone tape it?!

Monday blues

As Chris and I were rushing around getting ready for work this morning, I accidentally stepped on Carlo's paw (while wearing shoes!) (because he doesn't move when he sees you coming, which seems to be a surefire way to have your DNA scooped out of the gene pool along with the water skates and old, dead leaves), and holy mother of all that is holy, he shrieked. Not like a cat's normal yowl of displeasure or fear—no, he sounded like a full-grown woman screaming bloody murder. It was frightening. The only time I've even heard of a cat doing that was in "Little House in the Big Woods" (and this is the second time in one week that I've referenced the Little House on the Prairie series, which is another blog entry altogether) when Pa is telling the story of how Grampa's horse had to outrun a panther in the woods, and the big cat screamed and shrieked like a woman, while racing among tree limbs. I always thought was just a bit of literary exaggeration, but apparently not. I jumped about three feet in the air, both up and back.

The sad part is that this incident really freaked Carlo out, so much so that he ran and hunkered down behind a guitar and stopped purring (I didn't know it was even possible). This is the cat who, on his first night home, took a swat at Vinny and was on/in/under everything possible. This cat would be that kid in high school who'd jump off the town's water tower just because you told him it couldn't be done. He has no fear. But I shook him up badly enough that he cowered...my heart is broken into a million little shards. Even after I scooped him up and apologized and snuggled him, he seemed eager to get away from me. I think I'm going to cry….

Last one standing

I don't know what it is about me, but I'm always the one who gets screwed over in restaurants and cafés. I went out to lunch with Mae today, and we ordered similar items (noodles). She and everyone else in the store got their noodles pretty quickly, but I was left standing around, wandering if they were still milling the flour for my noodles in the kitchen. Actually, this happened the first time I ate at that place, too. And this morning, I ordered my drink at Starbucks, and then stood and watched while three people after me got their drinks and left. I finally asked the barista and apparently, they forgot to order my drink. The upside is that I have a coupon for a free Starbucks drink now. The coupon doesn't specify a value limit, so I'm going to try to concoct and order the most expensive drink possible. I wonder if I'll like it.

I'm not normally a fan of Starbucks. I hate how they've pushed out small, neighborhood coffee shops and have adopted the predatory store-on-every-corner tactic. I also think they over-roast their coffee beans so that the drip coffee is harsh and burnt-tasting. And San Francisco has no dearth of smaller coffee shops that make a delicious, creamy latte. But every fall, Starbucks draws me in, enticing me with holiday flavors and aromas. I am crazy for their gingerbread lattes…spicy, sweet, and mmmm. And now they've introduced a pumpkin-spice latte! How am I supposed to resist this onslaught of seasonal deliciousness? It's a good thing this only lasts for about 2 months, though I dread the gingerbread latte withdrawal that comes in January.

I'll buy a clue, Pat.

Here's something I honestly don't get: When a person on "Wheel of Fortune" is totally on a roll and clearly knows the answer, and is spinning and spinning the wheel to rack up dollars with every letter, why do they buy a vowel? Is there a rule that you have to buy a vowel at some point? Because don't you pay for each vowel? Why would you do that if you know the answer? Why? Really, I'm asking you, Internet. Clue me in.

And here's a funny cat story: Chris was swishing around one of those kitty fishing pole toys, enticing the cats, and the both came racing around the coffee table...on opposite sides...and crashed. Like, full head-on, tweety birds spinning around your head, check for concussion type of collision. Vin seemed a little dazed, but Carlo? Didn't even faze him. I've seen him totally misjudge things like the couch leg while careening around the living room, and crack his head against it. It's like nothing happened. Weird.

Happy girl

I'm a happy happy girl...I'm watching the first episode of Amazing Race 6. I already hate Jonathan, who describes himself as "passionate." I've taken the liberty of reading that as "asshole-ish." He also described himself as a "mental magician," which forces me to hate him regardless of anything else.

Endless Christmas

On my way home from work today, I listened to the Beach Boys' "Pet Sounds." I can't begin to explain how much I love that album. I'm not sure what it is, but I know that some of that love is due to nostalgia. My parents had an odd collection of vinyl albums when I was growing up. On any given day, I could listen to Barbara Mandrell, Barbra Steisand, Neil Diamond, the original Broadway recording of "Jesus Christ Superstar," plant music (as in, the kind you play to plants), the 1812 Overture, Chinese folk songs, Anne Murray, the Carpenters, or the Beach Boys. For road trips, they taped the two-disc Best of the Beach Boys album (it was called "Endless Summer," I think) and the Carpenters and we'd listen to them in the car ad nauseum. So I have this irrational love of both the Carpenters and the Beach Boys. But still, "Pet Sounds"? Great album.

I also listened to "Smile," Brian Wilson's new album, and it's...different. I don't know boo about music though I know what they say about this being an album of epic proportions. All that's irrelevant to me. I just know that I like it so far. It plays like the score to an extravagant musical. Songs blend into one another, lyrics are a little out there (I especially love the songs about barnyard animals and vegetables), the music is an emotional rollercoaster. I don't know what it is, but the Beach Boys' music always makes me think of Christmas. Maybe it's the generous use of timpani drums, or the plinky-plinky-tinkle of keyboard or the plunk-plunk of the xylophone, or the crazy-good harmonies, but it always makes me think of warm fires, twinkle lights, and caroling.

Trouble with a capital T

Carlo is trouble in a cat suit. He's not really a cat. He's a gremlin disguised as a feline. He tried to hop up on the coffee table last night, but the space between the pile of folded laundry and the laptop wasn't big enough for him. Being the stubborn bastard he is, he dug his claws into the laptop's keyboard and popped off the T, F, and C keys. And then he tried to eat the displaced keys. It's only appropriate that he grabbed those keys, because check it out: The Fucking Cat.

Flower power

Right next to my office is a small flower stand and I'm gaga for the guy who runs it. Not only is he incredibly cute, but he's sweet, gentle, loves flowers, and is just the bee's knees. All of this is irrelevant, though, because I'm fairly certain he's gay. It's not the flower thing…there are actual clues. (Maybe it's also irrelevant because I'm, like, totally getting married next year, but whatever.) So sometimes I drop in on the pretense of looking at flowers just to get an eyeful of him (and sometimes to actually look at flowers). Mae has seen what a blithering idiot I become around him. I lose my capacity with the English language and can only manage a quick "hi!" before running off, giggling like a Japanese schoolgirl.

So it's with concern that I noticed his shop is closed today. A sign in the window says he's feeling under the weather. My first thought was, "Poor guy, I hope someone sends him flowers." Hee…do you think he enjoys getting flowers or is he all, "Pfft…whatever, mine are better." And does the fact that he's a florist make it more difficult for him to give gifts? Like his spouse would be all, "Flowers? FLOWERS? It's my freakin' birthday and I get flowers? What, did you forget it was my birthday until, like, five minutes ago?!" It's like the opposite of that Neil Diamond and Barbra Streisand song—all you ever bring me anymore is flowers!

Something's fishy

You wanna know something weird? I just ate a tuna melt. And I liked it. Perhaps that's not the craziest thing you've ever heard, but the thing is...I hate tunafish. I haven't always disliked it. As a kid, I ate tuna salad pretty regularly. I think it tapered off around college, because I certainly was not going to eat the tunafish that had been sitting in the cafeteria for god knows how long. After that, I ate it sporadically, but I liked it well enough. Something changed in the past five years, though, and I began to find it revolting. Like, don't-come-near-me-with-that-tunafish-sandwich-lest-I-puke-all-over-you gross. I was convinced that the very act of mixing canned tuna with mayo, celery, and relish would give rise to an advanced civilization of virulent E. coli that would rule the human race with their tiny little iron flagella. I still love tuna sashimi or a nice slab of rare, seared ahi or tuna tartare (I choose to believe that only innocuous bacteria would inhabit such tasteful food), but tuna from a can? A sad waste of perfectly good fish, and disgusting to boot. It didn't help that I worked in a café in New Haven, where everyone and their dog seemed to love the tuna salad. I usually tried to pawn off tuna-sandwich assembly onto a co-worker, but that was pointless, because I also worked in the kitchen and had to make VATS of tuna salad. No nice little single-serving cans there. No, the tuna came in 2.5 pound cans and the mayo in six-gallon jugs. I held my breath a lot in that kitchen.

Lately though, I've found myself drawn to the idea of tuna, despite the fact that only recently, I recoiled so violently from Chris's tuna sandwich that I gave myself whiplash. In particular, I've been thinking about tuna melts. And really, for someone who doesn't like tuna, what could be worse than WARM tuna salad, with warm MAYO, and CHEESE on top? On paper, it sounds like a recipe designed to purge your entire GI tract of anything resembling biological matter, including your GI tract itself. And yet.... Until today, I've managed to ignore the fishy siren song, because I knew I'd hate it. I just KNEW. But today, I caved. Maybe it's the cold gloomy weather or maybe it's because they didn't have tomato soup. But I ate it...and I liked it. It was warm and gooey and oh-so-cheesy. It definitely tasted like tuna, but somehow, with the cheese and the toasty bread, it wasn't so offensive. It was kind of...y'know, good.

And now, I am confused. I used to know where I stood on the tunafish debate. No wavering or waffling for me. No sir, I stood firmly with the anti-tuna brigade (ATB) and nothing was going to sway me. "Down with tuna!" I'd chant, waving my "Just say no to tuna" banner. I need a new slogan. How about, "I'm down with tuna melts!"? I'm a little worried about what the ATB will have to say about this. What if they make me swim with the fishes?

The 2nd bastard child

You know how parents always have more picture of the first child than any of the others? This is also true for cat parents. I've been remiss about posting pictures of Carlo (aka Carlito, the little Bastard), but I am happy to correct that oversight. Behold!

The SPCA implored us to find ourselves a new friend, so we did: Carlito. 

Proof that advertising can be misleading: Carlo is certainly not a Tidy Cat. In fact, he's pretty much the antithesis of a tidy cat. 

We certainly do not spoil our cats with humongous new toys. 

Slippin' and slidin'

I think I've mentioned this already, but wedding planning has sort of fallen by the wayside now that both of us are working. I understand why people hire wedding planners now. I want to wave my magic wand, shout "Abracadabra!" and have my wedding come together. Rita mentioned that wedding planning is sort of a slippery slope, and it's totally true. I can see how we're already mentally throwing money at it to make it happen. We worked out a deal with our photographer wherein we'd cut out one part of the photo package in exchange for a discount on extra time, but now that we've received the contract, both of us are hesitating, wondering, maybe we want that thing back and instead of adding time to the cheapest package, we should just pay for the next package, because how do you put a price on this and blah blah blah. And this attitude of "What's an extra $500?" is going to add up quickly. Argh!

Wanna know what we have left to do with just over four months to go? Let's see:
* Flowers
* Music/DJ
* Transportation
* Our clothing
* Hair/make-up
* Rings
* Stationery/Invitations
* Rehearsal/Rehearsal dinner
* Favors
* Attendants' clothing
* ...

[[Cue hysterical laughing]]

Guess what? I shook Warren Christopher's hand last night! At the Legion of Honor! Cool, eh? Apparently, he's a member of the Order of the Coif, which you would think is a fraternity of hairdressers, but it's not. We were at a law firm alumni function and WC is an alumnus of the firm. Really, I was more fascinated by the tiny, tasty sushi and the incredible dessert buffet in the Rodin room. All the sculpture pedestals had signs that said, "Please do not put food or drink on the pedestals." The thought hadn't occurred to me until I read the sign, and of course, suddenly, all I wanted to do was have one of the Rodin sculptures hold my plate while I fetched another glass of chardonnay.

And this morning, Chris and I came about three feet from getting run over by a car driven by a woman who clearly needs a refresher course in stop signs. She zoomed up to the crosswalk we had just entered--clearly not planning to stop--saw us, and gave the brake pedal a cursory tap before speeding off. Nope, never stopped, even though we had the right of way. Bitch. I'm happy to say I yelled and shook my fist in her general direction.

Work is making me anxious. I can only describe it as being in a canoe that's sprung a leak and said leak is taking in water ever so slightly faster than I can bail it out. It's not full-out panic mode, but there's an ever-present feeling that I should be going just a leetle bit faster. But I'm kind of going balls-out already (yeah, as evidenced by me blogging from work...hey! I'm on my lunch break!). I can only hope that the onslaught will abate some after the first week of January. Mommy...

And finally, just another plug for the DonorsChoose.org thing. If you go to TN's contest page, you can click on the links at the bottom to see what projects the TN readers have fulfilled. Kids are getting copies of Orwell's 1984, clean drinking water, microscopes, learn-to-read kits...YAY!

All over, everyone's saying, "What now?" Some are thinking about fleeing to Canada, others plan to crawl in a hole for the next four years and just hope for the best. Most, though, seem ready to dig down and fight the good fight. But what is the good fight? What can we do individually to make a difference? I know I am often paralyzed by the enormity of the situation—so much needs to change, from the "system" on down to the individual level. The task is daunting, so more often than not, I choose to roll over and go back to sleep, because really, what difference can one person make? In talking to some smart people today, I realized that it's important that we don't lose sight of the things we can or already do in our everyday lives: volunteer work, donating goods and money, engaging each other in dialogue about our lives both large and small, keeping abreast of the news (all the news—network, cable, blogs), being kind, having empathy.

There are people out there who are trying to make it easier for other people to help. The hilarious and incomparable Sarah of TomatoNation.com is promoting DonorsChoose.org, which connects teachers in some of the poorest public schools (the majority of the kids in the schools qualify for free lunches) to people who want to directly affect the lives of kids. Classrooms are receiving the books, equipment, and supplies they need. You can peruse the projects at the Donors Choose website and donate to what resonates with you, or donate through TomatoNation (and be in the running for tomato-licious TN swag!). This is just one of many places where you can help. It's heartening to know people are out there, doing what they can and trying to help others do the same. Rock on, y'all.

Please explain to me...

Seriously, I'm not sure what pains me more: the fact that Bush was re-elected and we have to endure another four years of this…this…blight (and I'll let Mark Morford speak for me on this one), or the fact that in not a single of the 11 states that had proposals for a constitutional ban on same-sex marriage did the majority of the populace see fit to regard gay adults as just plain old people, people who fall in love and have children and pay taxes and want to be able to visit their husbands or wives when they're in the hospital or know that their families are provided for in case anything bad happens to them. I realize I'm probably preaching to the choir and that I'm not saying anything new, but from a purely emotional standpoint (never mind the politics and legal issues), I cannot comprehend how some people (apparently, the majority of people) can pass moral judgement on other people's relationships. Because I would be willing to bet everything I have on the idea that most of the people who voted for the constitutional bans didn't do so because they feared it would cost the states more or that it would destroy the legal system, but that they voted with their hearts. And their hearts are hard, cold, and without empathy. I just don't get it.

It's a blue blue day...and yet so red

Hooray! The computer is up and running again, thanks mostly to Mike, and we have all the files and documents we need, thanks in large part to the tech guy at the company whose software broke our computer. However, I am typing one-handed, because Carlo is intrigued by my fingers flying around the keyboard and is intent on tap-dancing on the keys.

So I broke down tonight and am watching the election coverage (minus 3 hours for Jon Stewart, Gilmore Girls, and dinner). It's like a trainwreck...can't...look...away, despite the fact that there's nothing good going on. One cool thing today is that one of my managers e-mailed everyone at 4pm today to say "go home and vote! or if you've voted, go home and watch the election coverage!" So I did.

Sigh...on the presidential race. And sigh...on the constitutional bans to gay marriage across the country. That makes me so sad.

PSA

Everyone's saying it, but it's worth repeating: GO VOTE. And if you think the poll workers are fucking with you or your ballot, call 1-866-OUR-VOTE. It's a non-partisan Election Protection Hotline, and they have a cadre of lawyers at the ready to help you should you need it. I won't lie and say that I don't care who you vote for. Of course I care. I want you to vote for my guy. But regardless, you should vote, even if it is for that other one.

I haven't decided whether I'm going to watch the returns tomorrow night. My instinct is to bury my head in the sand, ostrich-like, and check in before I go to bed to see if there's a clear-cut winner. I don't know if I can handle the back-and-forth "Kerry's ahead...no wait! Bush is ahead!" that the pre-election polls are predicting. I know how heart-wrenching the 2000 election was for so many people. I just figure I can't do anything more than cast my own ballot--why torture myself by watching it?

And now I have to go look at the kajillion propositions on the California ballot. I'm taking a cheatsheet with me because there's no way I'll remember all of them.

No wait, first I need to go break up a catfight. Vinny seems to have a solid mouthhold on Carlo's neck and Carlo is bunny-kicking Vinny's face. Sigh.