04.12.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 7:03 am by Hanne Blank
“We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be.”
– Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., Mother Night
Ad astra, Mr. Vonnegut. Thank you.
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Recently there has been a huge billboard over I-95 just south of downtown Baltimore, an advertisement for bariatric surgery (gastric bypass) services at a local hospital, showing a young woman in a tank top, her arms spread as if she’s about to take flight, with the rubric “Trade pounds for possibilities.” This billboard infuriates me every single time I pass it. I have to say that even though I have a horror of heights, and this thing is on one of those incredibly tall hoardings that goes up way high above an interstate freeway, I have been fantasizing about going up there with some sort of gigantic paint sprayer thing and crossing out the word “pounds” and stencilling in the word “self-hatred” in huge red letters.
Please tell me I am not the only one whose road rage fantasies involve the political defacement of advertisements.
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My mother has fallen in love. Recently she met a man about her own age through friends in her religious circles (my mom is, following a long career as a public school teacher from which she retired after thirtymumble years of service, enjoying a second career as a Spiritualist minister and medium who, among her other responsibilities, teaches at the Lily Dale Assembly in New York State every summer), and then in March, when she was spending a month in California and Arizona teaching and so on, she got the chance to spend some extended time with him… and the rest is about as adorable as a basket of kittens. The California Gentleman, as I am wont to call him when talking about him to people, is a semi-retired lawyer and judge, and while I haven’t met him yet, he sounds like a great chap and he seems to be making my mother exceedingly happy, which to me is the most important thing. Also, I have to say that getting to see my mom be so completely slackjawed loopy for someone is a treat. Her life has not been the easiest, and she’s always been one heck of a trouper. It’s great to see her getting to just bask in the fun stuff for a while. Though I must admit that it’s a little weird to suddenly have my mother — who has for most of her life displayed about as much interest in flying places as your average penguin — jetting off on a regular basis to go see her beau!
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I’ve been thinking a little about this whole idiotic Don Imus flap. Beyond the obvious (why were people surprised to hear him be inflammatory, racist, and sexist in the same sentence, when he’s been inflammatory, racist, and sexist for so long he’s built a career out of it?) (and isn’t it indicative of at least some kind of cultural gangrene that we hire people as entertainers on the basis of how snarkily and nastily they can be inflammatory, racist, and sexist?), one of the things I have to admit to thinking, in the recesses of my hindbrain, is “God, thank you for not making me a heterosexual white man. I mean, it’s so easy to be a jackass anyway, I’m glad I wasn’t given that particular leg up.”
Before you start, stoppit. Yes, I know and you know that not all straight white boys are jackasses. I am not whacking them all with the same tarbrush, except insofar as I am: without exception, all the ones I’ve ever known who weren’t jackasses had to learn how to not be, whether by dint of being raised with explicitly anti-sexist/racist/etc. parenting, through some form of intensive educational intervention imposed on them later on, or simply because some kernel of uncommon decency caused them to stop and question the own top-of-the-food-chain upbringing that so frequently infuses straight white boys with a sense that they possess, as a birthright, a sort of metaCalvinist irresistible grace.
Which is not to say that the straight white boys who manage to overcome this training don’t deserve kudos, they do. That’s not easy work. Taking steps toward understanding the arbitrary and impersonal nature of your own privilege (let alone trying to renounce or redistribute some of that privilege) requires some radical readjustment of one’s sense of self. But they don’t deserve any more kudos than anyone else does for doing essentially the same work. Everyone who is not a straight white boy who likewise reaches a point of realizing that their privilege, or lack thereof, or social acceptance (a form of privilege) or lack thereof, or [fill in the blank, it's early and my tea water isn't hot yet, do your part] or lack thereof is similarly not inherent to them personally and is instead due to a complicated array of other external, systemic factors… everyone who gets there deserves the same props, in my book: Congratulations, biped, you’ve achieved social self-awareness. It’s a big scary world, and you’re naked. C’mon over by the fire. It’s warmer here, and we have caffeinated beverages. Here, have some.
All of which is a long roundabout way of saying no, I’m not going to go out of my way to cosset the straight white guys who might’ve gotten their fur rubbed the wrong way by my characterizing them as jackasses. Because frankly, straight white boys kinda do get handed the Acme Brand Super Home “Li’l Patriarch” Jackassery Kit (”Impress your friends! Oppress your enemies!”) the instant they spring forth from the womb. I’m glad some of them manage to get the hell over it. But as for the rest of ‘em, if the word “jackass” rankles, perhaps figuring out where all that guilt is coming from would be fruitful, hm?
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02.24.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 9:41 pm by Hanne Blank
I’m a fool for pickles. Always have been. Pickled anything, pretty much — green beans, carrots, onions, mushrooms, beets, radishes, peppers, peaches, cabbage, cauliflower, garlic, limes — whatever you got. As long as it’s not mango (all mango tastes roughly like gasoline to me, and not in a pleasant aftertastey way but in an oh my god I’ve just eaten something toxic help help way), I’ll probably try it and like it.
It will thus come as little surprise to anyone that one of my favorite homestyle dishes at a little strip-mall Chinese/Taiwanese restaurant we sometimes go to down near where my Belovedary has been working lately, in Rockville, MD, is pickled cabbage with pork. (The restaurant is called Chopstix, and despite the horrible name, is really very nice, particularly if you order from the “home style” menu. Also, you can get the same pickled cabbage dish with chicken if you prefer. I don’t, though it is also good, the pork is better.) It is spicy, crisp, tart, salty, savory, and generally just a big ol’ festival of umami.
So I was thrilled to find, in the back of Fuchsia Dunlop’s Revolutionary Chinese Cooking, a recipe of sorts (more a set of rough guidelines really) for Hunan-style pickled vegetables. I made up a batch about 2 weeks ago and have been happily noshing off of it ever since, culminating in two nights in a row, last night and tonight, of stir-frying it with leftover cha siu, with a little bit of garlic, some sesame oil, and some dark soy sauce, making a lovely simple homey dinner for my Belovedary and me. But of course I could not bring myself to eat up all the remaining pickled cabbage before I had made more. MUCH more.
So. Today when we were at the Asian supermarket, I bought a pickle crock. And just about the biggest Napa-type cabbage I have ever seen. Voila:
For size comparison, note that the white thing you can barely see the top of behind the crock is my large Brita filter pitcher, and the cheesecloth bundle in the foreground — which contains a variety of flavoring ingredients like scallion, ginger, dried Tien Tsin chiles, Sichuan flower pepper, star anise, fennel seed, cinnamon bark, garlic cloves, and green cardamom pods — is somewhere between the sizes of a baseball and a softball. That is a big honkin’ cabbage, in other words.
I took a photo of the inside leaves of the cabbage because it was so pretty.
Not all of it fit in my crock… as may be obvious from the photo. I had to cook up some with dinner tonight, and stash some of the rest back in the fridge, in hope that tomorrow, after the brine has made the cabbage that did make it into the crock a little softer, I’ll be able to pack the rest into the crock. Here’s what the crock looked like before I put the clay lid on top (a loose-fitting lid that lets the pickles breathe but keeps foreign objects and dust from getting in)… with some of my incredibly disorganized tea collection on the counter behind it.
Packed to the brim with cabbage, the spice bundle from the previous picture, some pickled jalapenos (called for by Dunlop’s recipe, though I imagine not 100% mandatory) and nearly 6 quarts of the appropriate brine.
And, in case you were wondering, yes, I also took a photo of the pickled cabbage and pork dish we had for dinner. Rice bowls, old tatty stained tablecloth I’ve had for 15 years, and all.
Tell you what, photographing your dinners and blogging the pictures sure does make you realize that you really do need to get off your arse and tidy the kitchen and think about buying a new tablecloth or two. Heh.
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02.19.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 9:32 am by Hanne Blank
Out of curiosity, I pulled up Google’s listing of the most popular search queries that get people to this website (although not necessarily specifically to this blog itself). It’s a curious list, in some ways.
Now that I have the list, I’m also going to try an experiment to see how it affects stats and further search logs. Items from the list are in boldface, my responses are not.
1. virgin stories
I know what you’re looking for and you won’t find it here. You really really won’t. But if you want to buy a whole book about virgins, I wrote one and you can buy it if you’d like.
2. sex stories pdf
Another thing you won’t find here. On the other hand, I have written and edited a few books that contain these kinds of stories. You can buy those too.
3. stretching hymen
Yes, it can be done in some cases, depending on the qualities of the specific hymenal tissue involved (not all hymens are alike). In fact it often is done, completely inadvertently and in some cases totally nonsexually as well, without anyone knowing the difference. Rather unexciting.
4. self filling water dishes
My youngest cat believes that the bathroom sink is a self-filling water dish, and constantly pesters me to turn it on for him.
5. house smells like mildew
Time to start airing it out, drying it out, and scrubbing it out. Check for leaks, too, especially around doors, windows, and the foundation.
6. dishwashing gloves
Highly recommended: I like True Blues.
7. things women put in their vaginas
Tampons, you mean? Or were you talking about the Grand Unified Field Theory? Yeah, we keep that in there too. Just for safekeeping, you know.
8. but somehow with houses entropy seems to happen in bursts i have empathy for houses falling apart i really do for one thing
Happened to James Joyce too.
9. does women at the age of 10 develop hymen
Female human beings develop hymens before they are born. Usually between the 5th and 7th months of gestation. So the answer to the question is no, women at age 10 do not develop hymens, they already have developed them.
10. girl virgin stories
See #1 above.
11. how much fennel do you need to make a full portion
Oh, acres. Vats and barrels and hogsheads. Just stunning amounts. (A full portion of what, exactly?)
12. how much money is needed for housekeeping
How much have you got? It’s possible to spend huge sums on housekeeping, if you are the kind who spends large sums. Alternately you can do it very cheaply indeed, if you are of limited means. The more you are willing to work hard yourself, the less it costs, I have noticed.
13. enjoying housekeeping
It’s all in the mind. There is no way to make scrubbing the floor into a glamorous, sexy, thrill-a-minute occupation, but it can be gratifying and even meditative if you get into the right mindset.
14. housekeeping means
Justify housekeeping ends, or perhaps vice versa. I think.
15. housekeeping routines
Very useful. I’m for them.
16. male hymen
Il n’existe pas. It does not exist. Es existiert nicht.
17. i dislike
Lots of things. Don’t you? When I’m in a really foul mood I can entertain myself just making lists of the things I dislike.
18. free coupon housekeeper
I’m not sure what this is. The grammar is so vague. The adjective could be modifying either of the nouns, but there could also be an implied preposition or two in there, or “coupon” could be being used as an adverb modifying “housekeeper.” It is a conundrum, to be sure. Let me know if you find one, and take a picture, so I can figure this out.
19. how to get a virgin girl for marriage
Meet one, court her sweetly, treat her kindly and thoughtfully, make it clear that you really admire and respect her, and then ask her nicely if perhaps she will consider marrying you. Maybe she will. (I believe this is the usual method.)
20. air freshener advertising
Sorry, I’m all out. House and garden type magazines usually have lots of them, though. Apparently people who care about their houses and gardens are also fond of having their living spaces smell like someone huffing glue at a dimestore perfume counter. I’ve never understood it myself.
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02.14.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 1:00 pm by Hanne Blank
Step One: Love things, and people, and places. Animals, too, they’re very important, and also trees, the sun and moon, the smell of good earth, and art in all its manifestations. Love them hard. Love them even when you want to strangle them or pitch them into the bin or set fire to them. Love them anyway.
Step Two: Love yourself. Take care of yourself the way you would take care of a small child in your care, with gentle firmness, providing for your needs and seeing to your own happiness with joy and generosity but without too much coddling, paying attention to the things you need to grow (even when those things might be less than pleasant). Don’t take any of it too seriously. It’s much too important to be grave about it.
Step Three: Love things so much that you are willing to go to the mat for them, and do it. Love things that make you push yourself to be a better person for their sake. Love things that take lots of hard work to bring to fruition. Love things that force you to be honest, and not self-servingly faux-honest either, but genuinely, humbly honest. Love things so much that you don’t care who knows that you’re busting your butt to live up to that love, or who sees you sweating. Love things that seem impossible so much that you learn how to make them possible.
Step Four: When Valentine’s Day rolls around, repeat steps 1-3. For additional happiness, share.
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01.11.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 6:52 pm by Hanne Blank
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I, for one, welcome our new feline overlord. He fell asleep in my lap earlier today, purring like an Evinrude 75 as his little eyes closed. The cuteness almost did me in.
His name, we have been reliably informed, is Inspector Qiao (pronounced very similarly to “chow”).
My Belovedary made a Quicktime movie of him, in case any of you need a dose of kittendorkiness… http://www.hanneblank.com/graphics/graykitty/qiaotoy.MOV
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