Thursday evening roundup and ramble

Some East Germans are nostalgic for the era before the Wall came down. From the other side of the world, a woman memorialized reminds us that totalitarianism was no picnic.

As if this economy weren't (rightly) brutal enough on things-we-don't-need, the Post runs juxtaposes a story about this cookie-dunking invention with one about a technology designed for a most unappetizing purpose.

The woman quoted at the end of this article says it very well. I don't eat meat because I'd like membership in a club that bestows the right to call myself a vegetarian, nor do I eschew meat out of aversion to cause pain. I wholeheartedly believe that subsistence entails imposing on, and in some cases killing, other species. I stopped eating meat for environmental reasons, and I still believe, soy runoff arguments aside, that strategic pescetariarianism can be just as sustainable (and much healthier) than veganism (which often overrelies on processed foods).

I agree with Michelle Singletary on this one: if you are living with your parents or otherwise depending on them for resources, they have a right to butt into your finances, and you have a responsibility to be transparent about them. The reason I could deflect mom’s question about how much I paid for the container of salt that she saw in my kitchen cabinet is that it’s genuinely none of her business.

As I've said in the past, I’m grateful that my mom has shamelessly attempted to assert control over my life (and finances), because it backfired, and it was all too clear that being dependent on her in anyway was a most unappealing option. I’m not trying to imply that I was financially independent the minute I graduated from college—far from it. But I certainly wanted to be, as soon as feasible.

Incidentally, my parents asked me, when we spoke over the weekend, how my gate was holding up. I said it would be replaced this week (and it has been—it looks great, and more importantly, holds up and opens and closes). They asked how much it cost. I told them (I’ll give you a hint: just over one month’s principle and interest (without taxes and insurance), or, in more meaningful terms, four months of rental income, after taxes). That’s right: the rent from just under half of RM’s séjour at my house is going to pay for the gate (well, and the entire back fence, which they had to replace, and the side gate, which I decided to throw in so I could close off the back yard and let Gracie out more safely). And I have to say that having that beautiful, functional gate is worth (half) the RM bs I’ve put up with. But I digress.

Mom—she who inquired accusatively as to how much I paid for my sea salt (estimate: between $1 and $2)—showed more perspective about the gate, replied that it was worth it just to have it done.

Now, mom’s understanding may partly stem from the fact that she had a stake in the gate’s status—dad worked on it when they were last here, and it took a lot of time—but she’s usually better about big picture things. (I do wish, for her sake as well as mine, that she’d back off the small stuff). She is, however, prone to silly reasoning about things she doesn’t have a stake in. When I bought my bike, just before moving to DC, she went on and on about how she didn’t see why my old one wouldn’t do (and by old, I mean the one I had as a small child, which was, among other things, one-speed and squeaky beyond repair). She (who does not bike around the neighborhood, much less bike to work) found that bike to be just fine.

Mom’s not alone in feeling free to assess the needs of others. One longstanding example comes to mind: Years ago, a Pakistani official was quoted as saying, in response to the costs of his country’s nuclear program, that his people would rather eat grass than forego nuclear weapons when India has them. How generous of someone who would be among the least likely to have to eat grass in that situation to speak for millions of actually malnourished people. Similarly, I loved it when self-righteous anti-GMO groups (and you know I don’t generally take the side of the food industry over environmental groups) to commend the “selflessness” of southern African officials for rejecting food aid that might contain GM food, out of principle. Because you know it was those officials who were going without food.

Now let me turn to a less serious and much more petty—but also very recent—example of this kind of thing. Some background:

Gym class is hard. I often leave feeling that the instructor broke me. I had class yesterday, and this morning, my arm hurt whenever I used it to turn-signal from my bike. I’d complain, except it’s kind of nice when the muscles grow back and then some. But my point is, class is not easy.

Occasionally, between sets, the instructor will have us do a set of frog jumps. Have you ever done frog jumps? You crouch down, touch the floor, and then “explode” up as fast as you can. The low-impact variation is kind of a joke: you touch your toes, then stand back up and extend your arms over your head. After about ten of the real ones, though, you’re exhausted. And you know that when Sam calls on someone to give him a number between, say, ten and fifteen, that’s how many frog jumps we’ll be doing. So yesterday, we did a set of fifteen. Then, after another few sets of weights, we did a set of twelve. Then, he called on someone to give him a number between ten and seventeen… and she said “seventeen.” The whole class let out a collective, “are you f*ing kidding me” sigh, including Sam, who has to do them, too. So we went about our seventeen frog jumps… except the woman who chose the number, who proceeded to touch her toes seventeen times. Easy to make decisions for other people when you don’t have to share in the consequences, isn’t it?