Julep: working it (?)

Is the moon in Venus or something? As I walked the three blocks to collect the kids after work yesterday, I got so many warm smiles and friendly hellos from men -- of all stripes, ages, races, time since last shower -- that I checked to make sure my blouse was fully buttoned. (It was.)

It's apparently still going this morning. Every one of these encounters, taken individually, is non-creepy, but it's starting to freak me out a little. "Friendly and accessible" is not my usual vibe.

Lola: This. This right here.

I Wear a Bikini Because... F*ck You.

This article will be my inspiration. Cheers!

Julep: life lessons

As I got dressed this morning, it occurred to me that some times it's nice to be pushing 40. I was able to apply some life experience to realize ...

(1) Pants that are uncomfortable at 7 a.m. are not getting any more comfortable as the day goes on. By 3 p.m. you will be begging for mercy. Just go ahead and take them off now, and put on something else, rather than suffer through the whole day.

(2) The very pretty shirt that was passed along to you (tags intact) by a woman who is 8 feet tall is not flattering on your pocket-sized frame. Take it off, fold it up for the Goodwill, and put on something you bought your own self.

There. Much better.

Julep: Schoolyard politics

The person at the heart of today's post has appeared on our blog before: you may recall that she "crafts to find the balance." She's now running for the state legislature, not in my district. If I lived out in the swamps of suburbia, I would certainly vote for her, and I'd even let her put a sign in my yard. I hope she wins her race. I truly do not wish her ill in any way, bless her heart.

A couple months ago, she called asking me for a campaign donation, and just last week she sent a message to me and to Lola asking if we wanted to "co-host" an event being thrown for her by some other lawyers in town. I wasn't sure what she meant by that, so I inquired further: basically, she just wants me to give her money before the event so she can identify me as a supporter.

I know candidates have to raise money and I don't begrudge her hustling. I realize that for some people, political involvement is a hobby, but I'm not one of them. I'm not in the habit of giving money to candidates who don't live in my district unless I really believe in them and want to show my enthusiastic support. For instance, I gave money to my partner who is running for city council,  not in my district - because he is awesome and I love him.

There's the rub. I know she is smart and hard-working; I respect that she does very good work for society in her day job; I'm sure that she will be a good legislator if she manages to get elected despite being a very crunchy liberal running against a conservative 20-year incumbent in the swamps of suburbia. Do I think she is awesome and love her? No, I do not.

She was my best friend for the first three years of high school, but she spent our entire senior year blowing off every effort I made to spend time with her, in favor of her private school beau and (even after they broke up) his cool friends. Once we graduated, I didn't hear from her again until the first day of our bar review class, when she greeted me like a long-lost pal. I was polite that day. In later weeks, I allowed her to join my study group (which included Mr. Twinks). I even did some volunteer legal work for her in her first job at a worthy local nonprofit. But it's been more than twenty years since I would have identified her as a friend.

I know high school was a really long time ago. On the one hand, I think I've done pretty well at moving on to date. On the other hand, I've come to realize that I really resent this person - who was responsible for one of the most painful and unpleasant times of my life and has never acknowledged her really sh!tty behavior, let alone made any attempt to apologize - asking me for money and a public show of support.

I can't decide if this is silly on my part. If a high school boyfriend had dumped me after treating me really badly, never apologized, and then 20 years later came around asking me to donate to his political campaign, would it be reasonable to laugh in his face? Is this different?

Twinkle: Pearls Before Swine

This afternoon I met Fun Sink over at Aunt Irene's condo to pick over the final dregs of what no one else in the family wanted of her last worldly possessions. I don't consider it at all insulting that I wasn't invited over sooner--Aunt Irene has children and grandchildren who certainly have a legitimate claim to her belongings, and I would never want to take away what was rightly someone else's if they really wanted it. It's only fair and right that they should choose what they want first; I was glad for the chance to pick over what was left.

And the amazing thing about marrying into a family of tasteless cretins is that they looked over some truly charming treasures. I walked away today with some pretty silver trays, some cordial glasses with silver overlay, some julep cups, a lovely little glass carafe with silver overlay, a silver sugar basket, and two ornate gold frames (the art can be easily replaced--I just wanted the frames). I also claimed a nice lamp, two mirrors with ornate frames (I cannot resist an ornate frame), a Queen Anne-style wingback chair, a Chippendale-style desk, a pembroke table, a brushed gold bar cart, and an oriental rug. (I'm getting them delivered later). I cannot believe these people didn't want any of it--it's really nice.

It was hilarious, too, going through everything with Fun Sink, because it was painfully apparent that she had absolutely NO idea what I was going to go for and what I was going to leave behind. She wanted us to take a four-piece French provincial bedroom suite, which, she pointed out, had lots of storage. I like my bedroom furniture, and I'm not in the market to replace all of it now or ever (I'm more of a piece-by-piece collector, anyway). I think she was surprised that, instead of taking her up on the offer for the entire bedroom set, I was like, "No thanks, but this is a charming little picture on the wall," or "What about this lamp? Can I have this?" She really had no idea what I was going to go for--she had sent me pictures previously of stuff she thought I'd be interested in, and none of it was what I ended up taking.

Anyway, it was nice of her to let me choose some of it and I'm happy with what I inherited.

After that we went to supper with Mr. and Mrs. Fun Sink, where they told us all about their upcoming Mediterranean cruise with their friends. And let me tell you all--this is the last group of people you would ever want to go to Europe with. One of their friends is learning Spanish, not to enrich her experiences in the beautiful city of Barcelona, or to interact more meaningfully with its citizens, but for the express purpose of saying she and her friends don't want pork or shellfish in anything. Talk about a fun sink.

I asked my father-in-law what he was most excited about seeing, and was happy and impressed when he said he wanted to see Michelangelo's David. Fun Sink rolled her eyes and explained that, unlike the rest of their party, he's not content just seeing the reproduction statue in the public square in Florence--he wants to go inside a museum and possibly wait in line to see the real thing. Mr. Twinks and I both defended him and said he was totally right to want to see the actual statue (especially since there's a reproduction of it right here on Main Street in our hometown--I actually love that cheap-looking gold reproduction, and affectionately refer to it as the "five dollar footlong.") Fun Sink said, "Well--you all will change your minds when you hear THIS: there's really good shopping in Florence including lots of nice leather goods, and I'd rather spend my time doing that." So my FIL, to his credit, will stand in line to see one of the world's great Renaissance masterpieces, while Fun Sink shops for tchotchkies.

Julep: the saga continues

First, I'd like y'all to know that by dint of getting up very early Saturday morning, I was able to procure some balloons and streamers for the birthday girl. Her little party felt festive and of a very manageable size. Next year will be soon enough to include her future best friends, including of course Tiny Twinks.

Now for something we all should have seen coming: the update on the fashion front. Pumpkin's grandmothers bought her new outfits for her birthday. I should begin by saying that I don't actually like the dresses my mom bought for her, either -- they have cross-stitched necklines and pockets, and while they sound cute in description and probably looked good online (I know these were mail order, I inherited my dislike of shopping), in person they look a little too much like 1970s housedresses.

As for my MIL, Mr. J accused me of being overly critical of his mother, and I see his point. I know she means well - and I don't want to say, "just stop buying her things" - and I have to give her props. She scrupulously abided by the three rules I gave her for little girl's clothing. Not a sequin or an animal print in sight. And yet I do not want my child to wear any one of these three ensembles.

You can't tell very well in this photo, but that white fabric is textured - sort of a nubby inverse-eyelet. Plus the three ruffles on the sleeves (two in a pattern not appearing elsewhere in the ensemble), plus the bow,* plus the ladybug applique, plus the rick-rack. Oh, and the leggings.

 If the bottom of this dress were in only two fabrics instead of three, I'd be OK with it. But prairie floral plus eyelet plus gingham? Overkill.

Again, strip off the skirt appliques (not that you can - I looked) and this would be acceptable even if navy-on-navy seersucker is a little dark for a toddler. But red-and-white ruffled hem and straps plus white waist (in a different fabric) plus star-spangled bow plus polka-dot star and heart appliques is just a bridge too far.

 

Mr-Mama's choices can best be described as "bright" and "busy." I am more of a "simple" and "muted" kind of person. This extends to our personal clothing choices as well - I suspect she thinks my wardrobe is a little dull, but you know, there is less room for big bright prints and statement jewelry on a person of my size than on someone her size. And I may add, even less room on a toddler. My personal rule of thumb would be: If you can't describe the dress fully in a maximum of three descriptive clauses, there's too much happening. But I can't go back to the well with that one - how many rules can I set out? And whatever I come up with, she's going to get around. Who knew there was so much dreck out there?

After discussion with Mr. J, one of these outfits will go back to the store - but only one (while the other two will be worn as infrequently as I can manage). Which will it be? I put it to you, Daddy Rabbit Girls. Vote in the comments, please!

P.S. As a palate cleanser, I offer you the dress Pumpkin received from Nanny. (1) Green gingham (2) with smocked yoke.

Adorable. Pumpkin is wearing it today, in fact. God bless Nanny.

* For voting purposes, be aware that I think I can get the bow off.

Twinkle: On Religious Holidays and Fun

Well, it was a joyful Easter in the Twinkle household, which began when Tik Tok by Ke$ha* came on the radio in the car, and E exclaimed, "I love this song!" So we cranked it up and rolled down the highway to Holy Trinity in Georgetown. It ended with E getting into some craft paint and painting her Easter dress and her baby sister's head, before promptly wetting and discarding her underpants, which Baby B immediately picked up and wore as a bracelet. And there was lots of candy-fueled fun in between.

I've spent a lot of time with Mr. Twinks' family this week, and there is a remarkable difference between his family and mine, and I think it stems from the way each family celebrates their own holidays. A trip to the zoo with my inlaws was a sad lesson in healthy Passover snack foods. My sister-in-law brought plenty of raisins and matzo for all, and when we passed the ice cream stand she said, "Good thing it's Passover, because I really want some ice cream." I mean come on--if you really want some ice cream (and you have no religious objection to it on that day), you should just have some ice cream. She was actually glad that Passover was there to keep her in line, and that is just sad. Compare that to my cousin today, who said of her 20-month-old daughter, "She pretty much just had chocolate for breakfast, and I really don't care. As long as her belly is full for church..."

I believe this stems from the way Jews and Christians celebrate their holidays. Compare Easter and Passover. Children are expected to sit quietly and still in seder meals, just like they are in a church service. But after the church service, there is an Easter egg hunt and a day of candy and running around in the sunshine, and games and cookies and cake and everything that kids love. After the Passover meal, you might get a dry cookie made from matzo if you're lucky, and then you have to sit there for even longer. Then you go home and go to bed, and you can't eat bread or chocolate or anything fun for a week. I don't think the Jews are particularly great at gearing their holidays toward the kids, and I think that attitude that you need to buck up, sit still, and deal with how much it all sucks sort of seeps into everything they do.

At the family zoo outing there were three grandparents and one mom (not me) who were straight-up b!tching out all the kids for running around and doing what kids do--and the zoo is a perfectly appropriate place for kids to run around and do what kids do. At the Easter party, there were lots of sets of parents and grandparents encouraging the joyful madness. There was actually an impromptu egg toss (raw, naturally) with all the children in their Easter finery. Can you imagine that happening with the Fun Sink family? It never would. (And no one's outfit was harmed in the fun).

I think Jews actually think it's character-building to have to sit through all those sucky holidays. They think, "I was able to sit through a two-hour seder and behave myself, and you should, too. And, by the way, the Easter bunny is for pussies**." They don't realize that they are missing out on the joy of creating something magical for their children, even if the magic is sort of extra, and doesn't really have anything to do with the holiday from a religious standpoint. I'm sure some creative Jew could come up with some whimsical Passover tradition that kids would like, but everyone would frown on it because it would make the holiday impure, and there would be a big scuffle about whether the rabbis approved, and no rabbi ever would, and the whole thing would just make everyone more downtrodden and exhausted than before.

These people expect children to fit into their boring adult holidays, instead of making some aspects of the holidays ones that children will have fun with and want to embrace. I think it affects how they treat children in all situations. They expect them to be perfectly-behaved little adults, at the seder or at the zoo or wherever. And don't get me wrong--I want my children to have good manners, but I don't think good manners and fun are mutually exclusive.

And, by the way, I like Passover. But I do think it could benefit from a little bit of whimsy.

*Disclaimer: My children do not normally listen to Ke$ha.

**Sorry, y'all. I hate that word, too.