but he really does resent USA Today's homometeorological agenda

We watched the Daily Show and Colbert Report repeats. Mom ranted through most of it, to the extent that even my dad was asking her to be quiet. I think she knows she's wrong and too insecure in her views to tolerate the slightest challenge. I've often wondered, "who believes all that shit?" but I kind of knew.

Dad: How does Jason feel about Stephen Colbert?
A.: Loves him. He was just saying the other day that he thought the show was hilarious.
Dad: In spite of the gay bashing?
A.: What?
Dad: Colbert is pretty anti-gay.
A.: You do realize that Stephen Colbert plays a character?
Dad: You mean, he plays himself?
A.: Kind of. It's a parody... mostly of Bill O'Reilly.
Dad: Are you sure he's not homophobic?
A.: Positive. It's satire.
Mom: They'll parody anything that makes them millions.

Things continue to deteriorate

A.: We had a really nice walk. Martha's doing well.
Mom: Did you know that you are one of 17% of the country that approves of the Democratic Congress?
A.: I don't recall saying that. That's why I don't like having these discussions with you-- you're very good at putting words in my mouth and oversimplifying what I've said.

I did not say, "Did you know that I'm one of 17% of the country that can identify Iraq and Afghanistan on a map, much less demonstrate at least basic information about both countries, and for that reason, I could give a fuck what the other 83% thinks?"

***
Mom, to dad: You know, it might make sense to buy your company's stock.
Dad: Yes... it fell today, but...
Mom: I know it fell, everything fell.
Dad: I know you know. Can I now finish my sentence? Anyway, I do think it is a good time to buy it. The stock fell but the cash flow is good. I can only imagine what it's like for smaller companise...
Mom: Everything fell...
Dad: Could I finish?

***
I was already blogging the above when...

Mom: What time are you meeting Jason?
A.: Around 11:30.
Mom: Is that where you once took sailing lessons?
A.: Yes. [I knew immediately where this would go].
Mom: Oh, what we didn't try to teach you. Dance, swimming... do you remember when you first started swimming?

Pause

Mom: Do you?
A.: YES! I'm busy. Can we discuss this later?
Mom: NO! You are so rude! Big deal, you're busy!
A.: ...
Mom: SHUT UP!

I begged, several times, for a political cease fire

Mom: There's a book out that reveals all these things.
A.: That book is full of untruths. Even your friends at Fox news are saying it's not true, and are calling the Ayers association a joke.
Mom: You don't know what book that is. It just came out.
A.: And it was instantly shown to be full of crap.
Mom: It all sounds good. You don't know. You didn't live through Hitler, you didn't live through Stalin...
A.: I don't think it's fair to confound eloquence with genocidal tendencies.
Mom: And you don't think Pelosi is an idiot?
A.: No.
Mom: The democrats have been in power for...
A.: Two years.
Mom: That's when it all started.
A.: Um, no.
Mom: Tell me one thing he's done.
A.: Well, in terms of education...
Mom: Hah! Yes, with Acorn.
A.: That, too, was revealed to be untrue.
Mom: No, I read about it yesterday.
A.: That doesn't mean it's true. Can we please just stop talking about this? I'm not going to agree with you. You can't help but raise your voice and interrupt when I disagree with you. Let's just stop.

Later

Mom: And saying that the only way forward is alternative energy.
A.: As a personal favor, for me, just stop.
Mom: All the pretty speeches...
A.: There is nothing wrong with being able to speak in complete sentences.
Mom: Aha! He deserves to win just for that?
A.: That's not what I said. But it doesn't hurt.

She's trying

Mom: It's the Clinton years. It's the democrats.
A.: Mom, can I please just read the paper? I'll be off the computer in a minute.
Mom: I don't need the computer.
A.: Neither will I, once I just read this.

I will give her credit: after my asking a few times, she actually made an effort not to talk to me while I was doing yoga. And she hasn't picked any fights yet. She's actually being nice.

She even said, "you know-- it's not so much that you've gotten fat... but you have a more athletic shape. You were more thin and delicate before."

I don't remember EVER being thin and delicate, but if it means she'll stop talking about my weight/shape, it works for me.

I almost never agree with David Brooks

Today, he has a point.

In other news concerning anti- (or rather non-) intellectualism in America, here's the story about the blonde who sued L'Oreal because she found having brown hair traumatic.

The first few hours

Mom: I don't like those pants on you.

Three seconds later

Mom: Look at that-- you've grown quite a stomach!
***

Many hours earlier

Mom: Hello?
A.: Hi, mom. My flight is delayed. I won't be getting in until 5:30 or so.
Mom: So late? Why are you coming so late? I'd hoped we could go for a walk in the morning on Sunday.
A.: Mom, I'm getting in tonight. I'm at the airport now.
Mom: Tonight? I thought it was Sunday. Dad thought it was Saturday.
A.: I did send you the itinerary.
Mom: The house is a mess...
A.: It doesn't matter. I'll call you when we land.

***
The flight was delayed two more times. I don't know why, but it didn't bother me. Perhaps because I was (selectively) observing Yom Kippur, so I didn't have the energy to do much but sit at the airport for hours. I had work to do and magazines to read. And I figured my mother would have plenty of time over the course of my visit to point out that I've gained weight. Which I certainly haven't since she last saw me, but I think she just likes to act surprised.

One of the big challenges over the next few days is to get mom to understand that I am moving into a very small house (that she does get; her reaction to the photos was, "it's small") and that I'm going out of my way not to fill it with crap. She's already offering me stuff and telling me not to buy anything. Which reminds me...

Earlier this evening

A.: I'm so glad you threw out all those twenty-year old beauty products.
Mom: Oh, I didn't throw them out. I couldn't do it.
A.: Sigh.


Later this evening

Mom: Why is it that you've put on weight?
A.: I don't know, mom.
Mom: Huh.

Pause

Mom: But you know you have.
A.: I don't think I have since we last saw one another.
Mom: I think you have.
A.: Okay. Goodnight.

Your taxpayer dollars at work?

Nicholas Kristof on how short-sighted policies are unconscionably hurting people.

An excerpt:

Mr. McCain seems to have supported Mr. Bush, mostly out of instinct, and when a reporter asked him this spring whether American aid should finance contraceptives to fight AIDS in Africa, he initially said, “I haven’t thought about it,” and later added, “You’ve stumped me.”

Although I will say the city needs better signage

Take that, Washington haters!

When he's right he's right

Tom Friedman gets it right.

My demographic is at risk of dilution

It seems that single, heterosexual male cat owners are on the rise.

No arm-twisting here

Dad: So, where did you go hiking on Saturday?
A.: Shenandoah...
Dad: Did you bike over there?
A.: No--it's about two hours west of here.
Mom: It's in the mountains?
A.: Yeah.
Mom: We have mountains too!
A.: I know.
Mom: We have mountains!
A.: I'm not arguing with you.
Mom: And beaches, and lakes.
A.: This isn't competitive, mom.
Mom: And you think I could live in the DC area! I couldn't live in the DC area! Here, I can live.
A: No one's saying you have to live in the DC area.

It hit me, after this conversation, that buying down here, rather than in Boston, is a stroke of genius. Otherwise, mom might try to move in with me.

little ovoid one

J.: Labradoodles require a lot of energy. Over the weekend, he likes to walk ten miles a day.
A.: I wish Gracie liked to walk. The first thing I'll do in the new house is build the rest of the gate, so she can play in the yard.
U.: Won't she be able to slide under or through the gate?
J.: She's kind of big.
A.: Yeah, that's a good point. She is big.

Later, I showed U. a picture of Gracie.

U.: I don't think she'll be slipping through under the gate.

qualifications

J.: I grew up right near Mexico. That makes me an expert in foreign affairs.
A.: I can see the projects from outside my house. I'm an expert on poverty. [Pointing to Gracie] I'm also an expert on obesity.

Our Washington

Leonard Downie Jr. eloquently sticks up for our city. An excerpt:

Large numbers of Washingtonians have dedicated much of their lives to real public service that does not involve the ego trips, trappings and hypocrisies of elective office.

It's a great article overall, and much more classy than what I was going to blog the other day:

F* small town America. How dare you people come to my (adopted city), make everyone late for work-- that means you, stand-on-the-lefters, as well as those of you that don't understand that your massive, in both quantity and expanse, families, in spite of your size, do not need to take up the entire width of the sidewalks on the Mall, which, by the way, are also bike paths-- but I digress. I can slow down and bike around you, not a big deal. But the way you people accept all sorts of earmarked welfare (Alaska, anyone? Farm bill?) and otherwise benefit from the hard work of the people in this city (see article linked above), and then stab us in the back and go on about your superior small-town values. Well, f* you.

The Times analyzes Thursday's debates... and more

The editorial, the potential impact on women in politics, the other guy, and the analysis of language.

Also, Judith Warner says it brilliantly:

Many of us who’d proudly decided, in our twenties, to pursue edifying or creative, or “helping” professions, woke up to realize, once we had families, that we’d perhaps been irresponsible. We couldn’t save for college. We could barely save for retirement.

For those of us who have hated this period — the wealth worship, the wealth gap, the elevation of everything suspiciously shiny and irrationally bubbly and stupidly ebullient, there should be some feeling of vindication. But it just isn’t coming. A great emptiness — and a gnawing kind of fear — has taken its place.

Schadenfreude is impossible because the fat cats — the ones who bent the rules, the ones who pushed the envelopes, the ones who paid lower taxes because capital gains were most of their income, the ones who opposed regulations on the banking and mortgage industries — are taking us down with them.

Too much to ask

Almost a year ago, I was asking--rhetorically--whether it was too much for mom to be supportive. It was a no-brainer: I'd been offered the job I had wanted for years, at an organization whose mission even she could respect. Instead, her reaction ranged from disrespect-driven delusion (what had I done at my existing job to force myself out) to complete lack of interest and perspective (after all, her complaint-letter assault on Verizon was more important). I am now coming to suspect--even though I truly hate to think this about my mother--that competition is behind her lack of support. It's not exactly competition; it's resentment that she has been shut out of the process and the decision, and it's discomfort in admitting to herself, much less to anyone else, that I can make decisions in my life without her micromanagement.

This is becoming increasingly obvious every time we talk about the house.

Mom: So, everything's set?
A.: What do you mean?
Mom: You got a loan?
A.: Yeah, that's all set. The appraisal came back--it was [$75,000 over what I'm paying].
Mom, derisively: That's bullshit.
A.: Thank you.
Mom: Everything is going downhill right now.

I didn't tell her that in this area, things are coming back up. Well, actually I tried to tell her yesterday, and that was for a less popular area. I'm quite happy to ignore her.

I'm not sure what I expected of her, but I do wish she'd give me some credit. I'm not an idiot; if I were, I would have bought years ago, when everyone and his grandmother were screaming, "buy!" Nor am I blindly optimistic; I know that there's risk (of course there is!); this could be the worst financial decision I ever make, and while I doubt that is the case, there are opportunity costs anyway. I know what's right for me at this stage of my life and I have a decent understanding of this area's real estate market. I'm in no position to try to time the bottom of the market, but at least I know that. I'm excited about this house and I think it will be a good investment. Mom's unflinching confidence in her understanding of just about everything--in this case the local real estate market, which she understands better than the appraiser and the inspector do--is nothing new. It would be nice if she stopped trying to scare me or convince me that I've made a mistake-- I mean, this is nerve-racking enough as it is-- but I know that that's too much to ask. Mom has always been emotionally selfish and it's inconceivable that she would put my needs, to feel good about my decision, for example, ahead of her own. I would like for her to give me some credit, but that's also too much to ask and I'm not sure why I thought for a minute that it was a possibility. She won't like the house when she sees it-- it is attached, it's near the projects, and its bedrooms are small. However, she's not the one that's going to live there, she's not paying for any of it, and it would behoove her to come to terms with the fact that I am capable of making big decisions in my life without her approval.

Increasingly rare in this age of pandering

The controversial concept of personal responsibility.

Mom is back

I called an hour or so ago to tell my mom about the inspection. She picked up, talked about a house she looked at (she's not really shopping; she just likes looking). She told me that it dropped in price by $100,000 in a week, but that she still wasn't interested. This went on for many minutes. Eventually there was a pause.

A.: I had the inspection today.
Mom: Why didn't you say anything?
A.: Because you were telling me...
Mom: Whatever. So how did it go?
A.: It went really well. All the really important stuff is pretty new and in great condition. Unfortunately, the water heater only has a year or so left, but...
Mom: Oh, water heaters aren't expensive and...
A.: Yeah, I'm open to replacing it with a water/energy saving system anyway. Other stuff... the dishwasher is broken but they have to fix it or credit me for it, but I'm not worried.
Mom: Oh, you need a dishwasher.
A.: I really don't.
Mom: Yes, you do. Our dishwasher...
A.: It just takes up space. The kitchen is pretty small...
Dad: Smaller than ours?
A.: Yes. By half. Everything is "smaller than ours."
Dad: Oh.
A.: It's a reality of living in the city. On my income, anyway. Anyway, the layout can be improved.
Mom: When we moved in to this house, the kitchen was practically in the middle of the floor. The oven was...

I had to cut her off. It's been a long day and I'm too tired for a detailed narrative about everything's counterpart in her house, which is where, I could tell, this was going.


A.: Anyway, most importantly, I really like the house. I got to spend a lot of time there while the inspection was happening. I love the downstairs and both yards. The upstairs is just okay but once I settle in and recover financially I can deal with that.
Mom: It's unfortunate that you have no basement.
A.: I consider it very fortunate. Like I have told you, basements here flood. Also, not having one keeps me from accumulating crap.
Mom: I don't know where I'd put all my stuff if I didn't have the basement...
A.: Exactly.
Mom: I told Misha. He said you need to put in another bathroom, especially if you're going to get a roommate. He said, "how is it that two people will share one bathroom?"
A.: There is a half-bathroom downstairs.
Mom: Right, but he was talking about the shower.
A.: Is he for real? I've shared bathrooms and showers my whole life. Which one of us lived for decades in Soviet communal housing? What's going on here?
Mom: That's exactly what I told him.
A.: This is a really good buy. The inspector was telling me...
Mom: What does he know?
A.: Will you LET ME FINISH my sentence?
Mom: Don't believe what the realtor tells you.
A.: First of all, it was the inspector. What's that noise?
Mom: We're watching Glenn. We love Glenn.
A.: Ooh-- watch the Daily Show tonight, it was really funny.
Mom: What's that? What time?
A.: You know the Daily Show.
Mom: Oh, we have more mushrooms. I froze them and will make them when you're here. Such an excellent source of protein.
A.: Mom, we've discussed this. Mushrooms are health but they are not a good source of protein.
Mom: Yes they are. What are they then?
A.: I don't have the energy to have this conversation with you right now.
Mom: Okay, bye.
A.: Bye.


Five minutes later, my phone rings.

Mom: IT'S JON STEWART? YOU TOLD ME TO WATCH THAT?? THAT BIASED NONSENSE? IT'S BITTER, IT'S RIDICULOUS! HE LIES! HE GLORIFIES THAT MAN THAT YOU ALL WORSHIP, WHO HAS TIES TO FANNIE AND FREDDIE...
A.: Actually, mom, McCain's campaign team is the one with ties to...
Mom: THAT'S NOT TRUE.

She goes on. And on. I almost wish I hadn't tuned her out so I could relay the rant in its full glory, but I had my sanity to think about. This would actually upset me more if my parents' vote counted, but they live in Don't-Blame-Me, I'm-From-Massachusetts, so they can rant all they want.

A.: I have to go; it's been a long day. Goodnight, mom.
Mom: Goodnight.

Teach my feet to fly...

I was looking back at my post from a few days ago-- one of many in which mom says something like, "I don't understand how you can live in DC. There's no water." Then I say, "there's a river, mom." Her usual response is something along the lines of "that doesn't count," although she once responded by telling me that the Potomac is so filthy that the fish are hermaphrodites. That is less absurd, however, than Saturday's response-- a flat-out "no! no, you don't have a river!"

Every time I catch a glimpse of the title of that post, I think, facetiously, "I wish I had a river so I... could teach my feet to fly...." and get Joni Mitchell's "River" stuck in my head.

Then, because I'm a free association spaz, I get Joan Baez' "The Water is Wide" in my head. Which by the way also laments the inability to fly. Just pointing that out.

I'd never thought I'd say this...

...but comparatively, Paris Hilton actually makes a better role model in this case:

Liana Imanidze, 71, whose grand home in Tbilisi has a sculpture of Stalin in the backyard and is decorated inside with a replica of his death mask perched on a pedestal, lamented that younger Georgians were ignorant about Stalin, including her own grandchildren, who she complained were more interested in Paris Hilton than in World War II.

From the same article:

But Mr. Ziyadaliev, 64, an avuncular father of two who dresses as Stalin even on days off, insists that business has seldom been better. He is a frequent hired guest at weddings, where he dances to Soviet Katyusha music from World War II.

The benefits of looking eerily like the former dictator, he boasts, include free meals, free car repairs — and free passage through Russian checkpoints.