Sunday roundup and quick ramble

China's urbanization has been problematic.

People thought to save art amid conflict.

The Enlightenment rages on.

Solar flares can really f* with our power grid.

The spectacular fall of Virginia's governor.

Joyce Carol Oates learns that Twitter is not for complex, nuanced discussions.

Don't starve yourself before your wedding. And don't let any guy reduce you to the role of nag.

***
Mom and dad got in fine, even early. The entire, door-to-door process, in spite of mom's consistent fretting beforehand, went very smoothly. Earlier this evening, she said she was feeling a little better.

Not that this is about me, but it was really good for me to get out, both last night and most of today. It was good to go to a party--to talk to people and to get my head out of mom's predicament. I feel for her, of course, but my moping about it isn't going to make her feel better. I hope dad manages to get out a bit, too.

I came to appreciate dad more than ever over the last week. I've always appreciated him, especially more so over the last year as he's had to deal with mom's declining health and moods, but I'm continually amazed at what an amazing person he is.

Old mom was in full force today

Dad warned me even before mom's fall that she gets 'bad' every few days, i.e., becomes mean. Then it passes. Yesterday she was more ridiculous than mean ("of course Gracie's fat--she's a product of her environment; I was looking around the emergency room, and so many people are enormous.") Oh, and she started lecturing dad (again, apparently) about how he had the 'wrong' abs (and she had the 'right' abs).

Mom's normal contains a fair amount of ridiculous made, which made it harder for both dad and me to realize that something was up. She always forgot things, repeated herself, asked questions for the sake of asking questions. It had to get really obviously ridiculous for either of us to realize--well, for him to realize first, and for me to agree--that something was wrong.

Anyway, mom's decent mood--even after the fall--gave way to 'old mom.' She went on (and on and on) about how it was my fault she fell because I should have given them my bedroom. They always give guests their bedroom (not true--I've never seen them do that). When dad said that he approved the guest room they'd ended up in--I'd asked him, he said it was fine--she said (over and over and over) that they should have consulted her; she has bad feet. (Unclear what the bed has to do with her feet. Or with the fall for that matter; my bedroom is across the hall from the guestroom, and the bathroom is in the middle. If she was going to miss it, she was going to miss it). I think--and I know it hurts, but what can you do when someone else is in pain, except give them drugs--she was just sick of being in pain and needed to blame others for her predicament. What I really want to say to her, but it sounds obnoxious when you say it to someone else, even though it's the best thing to say to yourself when you're in pain, is, "this too shall pass." At least her degenerative illness is not one of chronic pain. At least in two weeks, she'll feel much better. I know that doesn't help her now, but since I can't help her now anyway, I wish she'd take the long view.

I guess I could feel guilty about having brought them here, even though she could have fallen anywhere. There would have been a point--and this was it--where we would have understood definitively that she's not to be left alone. There were good reasons for them to come here, and it started out as a really good visit. Ironically, I thought beforehand how nice it was that the house was in good shape, because whenever they'd come in the past, dad felt the need to spend all his time working on stuff. Both mom and dad feel better working on stuff. So I gave him a project (hanging up the mini-vacuum) and thought we'd spend the rest of our time going for walks and hitting some museums. But, especially once we were essentially grounded, dad kept on finding additional projects. I'd forgotten that the downstairs bathroom didn't have a working lock; dad changed it out. I'd forgotten that the shed was a mess and that I had hooks in there so I could hang things up and organize it; dad found the hooks, and we cleaned out the shed. Amid all these projects, dad got sick of picking through my assortment of spare nails and screws, so I organized my nails and screws, and then the rest of the utility cabinet. I guess I should be happy that the house looks good, and I am, but it wasn't exactly the trip I'd intended for them.

They're at the airport. I'm on my way to a party. I'm still coming to terms with what happened--both with mom's injury and pain, and with the state of her mind. I guess interpersonally it was a very decent trip, even in spite of the round of blame. She's just hurting, so she's cranky. I have to remind myself, too, that she'll be okay.

Saturday roundup

Can Kosovo's prime minister make the transition from warlord?

Why our power grid is atrocious. NB: there's one paragraph in particular in there that could really use some editing, in more than one place.

I love "Ruth Bourdain"! I started following Ruth Reichl when I first joined Twitter--I love her books, which are anything but pretentious--but I couldn't take the Twitter feed. Social media just brings out the ridiculous in everyone.

If you think there's fraud in food stamps, check out some farm programs.

Some signs of the 'old' mom

I tweeted the other day, before the fall, that we were "still in bizarro world;" Mom had said, "this is a great house. For its size, it's very smartly configured--everything has its place." This almost worried me; finding fault is what mom does. It actually makes me feel better that even amid extreme pain, she finds the inspiration to ask me, every few hours, whether my hair is typically "in that style." (Because she doesn't care for it).

Mom's kind of doing better. She's still in a lot of pain and will be for weeks, but she's resorting to the mom antics we know and love. Take this conversation, during dinner.

Mom: What's wrong with this soup? I don't like this soup.
A.: You don't have to eat it.
Mom: That's not the point. Didn't I give you mushrooms? You could have made a perfectly good soup with those mushrooms.
A.: This soup isn't about the mushrooms.
Mom: But you could have made a different soup, with my mushrooms.
A.: Dad and I talked about soup options while you were resting. We agreed on miso soup. This is what miso soup tastes like. Miso soup takes shitake mushrooms.
Mom: I don't understand it.
A.: Don't eat it.
Mom: I won't. But I still don't understand it. I don't understand why you had to make this soup.
A.: I didn't realize you didn't like miso soup.
Mom: I guess it's okay in restaurants.
A.: That's because a lot of restaurants use powdered miso that doesn't really taste like anything.
Mom: Mushroom soup is better.
Dad: We decided not to make mushroom soup.
Mom: I just don't understand why anyone would make this soup.
A.: I don't understand why we're still having this conversation. The soup is made. Don't eat it if you don't like it.
Mom: I won't.

Friday evening roundup

I'm all about 'age is just a number' but I roll my eyes at superfoods; just eat food, some of which happens to be superfood. On that note, this analysis of why quinoa's not grown in the U.S. is interesting, but, again, I don't understand why it's such a big deal. And on that note--not addressing people with actual wheat issues here, just saying that they're very few--you're probably not intolerant to gluten.

I agree, I can't really take issue with this "offensive" ad. Nor with Sofia Vergara's [gratuitous and ostentatious] spending. 

Blog formally known as the mom blog?

I don't have a catchy, new title. I'm just tired. This hasn't really been a mom blog in a while, and mom broke her rib last night falling down the stairs (she decided to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night but forgot that there was one upstairs, and also didn't bother to turn the lights on). Nothing like hours in the emergency room to put one out of the mood for having a mom blog. Which is not to say that I won't continue to call her out, in passing, as needed... but let's just say we've all moved on.

Wednesday evening roundup

Mark Bittman reminds you that factory farms breed bacteria.

You have a source memory and a destination memory.

Behold the (various species of) man-child.

This is an excellent analysis of life in general (with preferred gender pronouns as an example):

But there is something self-defeating about expecting the world to essentially read and sign a disclaimer before engaging with you, especially when the situation is impersonal. Well-meaning people accidentally disrespect one another all the time. Ideally, those unintended slights are gently corrected, and everyone moves on. And though the PGP model is meant to help that process along, it has the potential to transform into a more-progressive-than-thou whip—the crack of which helps no one’s cause.

And if we go to the post that sparked it all, who the f* cares if yoga is a cultural appropriation? Why is cultural appropriation bad? Cultures borrow all the time. I am more interested in the commercialization of yoga, which she only touches on briefly. But if yoga is the "New It Thing," "new" is decades old. I guess I don't understand why it's so bad to take something that's rooted in a given faith but of general value outside that faith, and just go with it. People do it all the time. What if I want to practice yoga without giving a second thought to its Hindu roots? Who the f* cares? Can I have Xmas dinner all while knowing that Jesus, whom, by the way, I do not accept as my savior, was not born on that day? And that that day was chosen to mesh with existing pagan traditions throughout the Holy Roman Empire? Am I allowed to be forgiving, even though it's a lot more New Testament than Old? Who is to be the arbiter of what doesn't belong (exclusively) to a given religion, or any religion? It's actually quite difficult to build a wall between religious and secular in society and in one's daily life (government is a different story). Am I appropriating Buddhism (and/or many other religious traditions) when meditating, and if so, who the f* cares? This may be the stupidest f*ing thing I've ever read (this week):

If I wouldn’t dream of taking Communion at a Catholic Church if I was attending as a guest, why would I practice yoga? Aren’t there lots of explicitly fitness-oriented options for me to choose from that don’t require me to appropriate religious practices from former colonies?

Um, because yoga is a unique thing that's awesome, that happens to be rooted in Hinduism. You can read all you want into it, but you're not seriously suggesting that I forgo my sun salutations because they originally came from a practice rooted in Hinduism?

***
This, and "Clybourne Park" and "Rabbit Hole," is the $hit for which they're giving out Pulitzers?

Evolution hasn't yet perfected human balls.

Tuesday-Wednesday mom blog with interspersed rambles

Gardening calms mom down; it's probably her favorite thing to do. Even in the midst of that conflict-filled weekend four years ago, mom and I got along for the hours we were digging around in the dirt and planting gladioli. Which continue to do very well.

Before mom and dad got in--before it was time to get them at the airport but just after the HVAC guy wrapped up his inspection--I went to get some plants for us to work with, including an eggplant and two red pepper plants. On the way back, I stopped at Whole Foods--dad had requested bread and 'something to go with tea'--and in the bakery section espied a chocolate brownie cream pie that looked absolutely unappetizing to me, but that might appeal to the parents. Although with them, you never know. I took the risk and figured I'd foist it on my friends if my parents didn't go for it. Just after I got home and got everything into the fridge (I'd also made a hummus/olives/baba run, during which I got myself 'something to go with tea,' i.e., halva), dad called to say that they'd landed. I got to them just as they got to me--or, rather, dad called to let me know they were out there just as I got 'out there'--and I pulled up when I saw them and hung up. I was ten feet in front of them, but they were looking around and trying to call me back. Finally, I got out of the car.

Very quick Wednesday morning roundup

The latest on Egypt.

A man who saved many, many lives and was punished for it in life is honored posthumously.

Prague's political scandals (really, nobody there cares about the associated sex scandals).

Tuesday roundup

The tireless Jane Goodall scores another victory for chimps and continues to inspire girls to want to be her.

Detroit's not a good place to need an ambulance.

I feel like there's so much more to be said about secularity than Dave Brooks manages to get across, but he misses in pertinence as well as quantity.

The food industry tries to get in on changing (more adventurous) palates.

Monday roundup and ramble

We all agree that "it must stop," but there's no need to judge or pile it on when a baby dies in a hot car.

Bill Keller parses the immigration bill (and some misguided reactions to it) so you don't have to.

Will diesels surpass electric cars as the sustainable vehicles of choice?

All joking aside--and I do love "Idiocracy"--I very much frown upon making statements about who should and shouldn't reproduce. Until people who can't put two sentences together in a comment  make those kinds of statements. An example: "in vitro isnot ok with me, because these women r uncapable for a reason.. maybe its not just the fertilization process, but in fact, tjeir body blocked them for reprodution because they got someting else.. sorry ahahaha." Yeah, let's make her the arbiter of what's okay.

Wow:

NOPE. NO WAR ON WOMEN HERE. #MoveAlong #NothingToSee RT @ConnieSchultz Good Lord. pic.twitter.com/AO2oyHBFAf
— Lizz Winstead (@lizzwinstead) July 8, 2013

Two mysteries, the more complicated of which is resolved (while the more mundane remains). I, too, have wondered about the lack of hotel toothpaste (and about floating astronauts, of course).

***
"Happy" started out strong but could have been better. It got lost in anecdotal evidence--and those stories were very inspiring (a South Asian rickshaw driver who lives in a shack is as happy as the average American) or depressing (there's a Japanese word for people who died from work), but after half an hour, I didn't feel like I was watching a coherent movie. Which is too bad, because the movie makes some excellent points: happiness is internally driven (strong relationships (family, friends, etc.), personal growth (learning, getting better at our skills, etc.) and giving back make us happy; chasing status and superficiality (appearance, money--after a certain threshold) does not). The film also talks about the importance of how we react to adversity: it hits all of us, to varying degrees, and it's how we handle it that determines how happy we are.

I can buy into all of that, or almost all of it, but I have to address one thing: they should have made the same nuance they made about money--some matters--about appearance. I know people who are miserable because of the way they look. Now, the film was making the point that buying more makeup to get the perfect painted face is a lost cause (at least I think it was, based on the images on the screen when they talked about it), but I would have appreciated a more thorough discussion.

I feel the need to get into this because beauty, like fat, is a feminist issue. And women who self-identify as feminists often feel bad feeling bad about weight (and appearance in general), which is even more self-defeating than merely feeling bad about the weight or appearance. So I'm going to come out and admit, again, that I feel better--I am happier--thin. Not because I think it makes me more attractive to men (we've discussed that, too: men are attracted to all kinds of body types) but because it feels right for me. If all the dudes in the world all of the sudden decided that size 10 was the new hotness, I would still feel better as a size 0, because that's what feels right for me. I'm not saying anyone else will (or should) feel the same way; if you are happy at whatever size, more power to you. Really. I probably think you look awesome at your size. I just don't think I look awesome above size 0-2. I. am. happier. thin. F* you if you think that makes me a bad feminist. I don't care what you think. (Especially) if you're a guy, I don't care if you would have found me more attractive when I was a 4-6. It didn't feel right to me, it didn't feel right for me. I tried to get used to it and I just couldn't. Of course, I'm happier at a size 0 largely because I can eat whatever I want and stay a size 0; if I had to, say, eat paleo, I'd be miserable (I'd rather be a size anything than eat paleo). But I get to eat pasta and chocolate and oatmeal and tofu and fruit, and drink wine, so I am happy. Come to think of it, it was when I became vegan--and ate whatever I wanted within the confines of vegan--that I felt happier. And it was then that the pounds started sloughing off.

All this to say, appearance can make you happy or unhappy. I mean, I'm sure obsessing over appearance will make you unhappy. But what it probably comes down to is looking yourself--and myself, in my head, has (have?) always been 0-2 rather than 4-6 (and that's a 20-pound difference, the upper limits of which still isn't overweight). It's what looks and feels right to me, and I'm not going to feel bad about feeling good about it.

Sunday roundup

Friedman on Egypt, Kagan on Egypt... and more on Egypt.

Really, Chile? This is more f*ed up than the El Salvador case.

Saudi women inch into the workforce.

PETA's under fire for euthanizing shelter animals.

Thoughts for a less intrusive Patriot Act.

There were cranes all over Berlin when I was there, too, nearly 16 years ago.

Yeah, I'd run away from/not worry about grazing any dudes who tried to follow me in a parking lot, too.

Local couple gets screwed by their now-ex son-in-law.

What does Caucasian mean anymore?

Metro is not fixing escalators because it's spending its money on tearing out flowers.

Guys, you can add baby talk to that list.

Ladies, do not call him

Karen Salmansohn has some great advice, including such gems as, "don't shop for kiwis in a shoe store." Take that in two ways: (1) some people just don't have what you need, so quit banging at their door, demanding it, and (2) don't take advice from people who don't have what you need. Don't take career advice from someone who doesn't have a job; roll your eyes when obese people lecture you about nutrition; and don't take relationship advice from single people (says the single person about to give relationship advice).

I love my single friends (as I love all my friends). My single friends are so incredibly awesome that it is more on their behalf than on my own--I guess it's on our collective behalf--that I get indignant about singlism, and that I feel like the dudes who are not dating us are missing out.But even though I love my single friends, I needn't take their dating advice.

Yesterday, a couple of friends and I were complaining about the sad state of the dating pool, which sparked a prolonged advice-fest with regard to my dating life. I said I hadn't had met anyone I was interested in since last fall, when my really-off behavior convinced the guy that I was either (1) functionally insane or (2) merely not interested. Or (1.5): maybe I was interested but I was blowing him off because I was busy, which was rude, so dating me wasn't worth it. Afterward, I shot him an e-mail acknowledging that I was not at my best that night but that things were getting less crazy. A week later, he sent me a very polite e-mail back essentially wishing me a nice life. That, my friends, is unmistakable "he's just not that into you." And I take full responsibility for it. If I were to contact this guy, I would just put him in the awkward position of having to politely let me know that he thinks I'm crazy. Besides, I promptly deleted his contact information (I believe in a clean break) and continued to date other people.

I believe solidly in "he's just not that into you." I believe that if a dude likes you, he will ask you out. If he is not calling you, asking you out, etc., he. is. just. not. that. into. you. He's not intimidated by you; he's just not that into you. If he likes you, you don't need to contact him to remind him that you exist. If you ask him out, he may play along because what does he have to lose, or maybe he is interested, but you've basically communicated that he doesn't have to do anything but show up. You're inviting this kind of behavior, early. Women stray from the wisdom of "he's just not that into you" at their peril.

And this isn't just my own baggage speaking; I've seen my friends set themselves up for some bull$hit by guys who are just not that into them but more than content to string them along, because it's easier than just saying "no." Seriously, ladies: let the guys do some work. I mean, you don't have to put them through hoops, but don't offer yourself up on a platter.

But wait--EMK has an addendum:

This advice doesn’t work for every single woman in every single situation with every single guy. Basically, WHD was written for alpha females who want to date alpha males...

Beta guys are the ones who have more kindness than confidence. They’re not nearly as assertive. They’re so passive as to be, well, almost feminine in nature. They are not going to put themselves on the line for rejection until it’s 100% clear that you like them. They would sooner wait to get a written notice in the mail that you’re really, truly interested in them than to follow up too much and potentially make you uncomfortable.

[Note: I'm not endorsing the concept of alpha- and beta-males, especially not in the MRA sense; I'm merely quoting--and borrowing language--to denote more shy, less confident guys. I do not condone the description of such guys as "feminine," not that there's anything wrong with that. Note also that I'm attracted to one such guy.]

Okay, you can call that guy, but make sure that's what the issue is. But don't let him push you around for long. At some point, even the shy guy is going to have to show some initiative. That guy is still a man; he's not a man-child (i.e., an omega male). Cut him some slack, but don't spoon-feed him.

Quick Saturday morning roundup

Australia's now-former Prime Minister's position really brought out the misogyny.

Robbin Island's tour guide looks back and ahead.

When people intentionally took radium.

Friday morning roundup

Egypt and the future of political Islam (you can also read this, though it's less insightful).

Can India meaningfully deliver on food security?

What's this valley fever? It sounds awful. Someone eradicate it or come up with a cure.

IRS targeting also f*ed over... struggling musicians.

I'm not trying to pile it on (the pile being mom-bashing), but wise parenting advice seems to be (1) support your child unconditionally during a breakup and (2) don't give your kid body image issues.

People in DC luxury buildings have tiny balconies and the Post is on it.

Thursday roundup

Take Gail Collins' 4th of July quiz.

Yes, yes, it's your day, too.

Happy first birthday, #Higgs boson, the youngest member of our particle family. Goodness, they grow up fast ...
— LHC Proton (@LHCproton) July 4, 2013

I wish that my mom were so amenable to reason. That I could point out--as I have, in one way or another--that when you badmouth or put down other people, it only makes you look bad. It does not prop you up in their eyes. There are, apparently, people who listen to that kind of reasoning and adjust their behavior accordingly. With mom, it's best to just ignore.

Wednesday evening roundup

Too late now, but, on Egypt.

I know I recently posted something on how conspiratorial the whole Middle East is--and I almost always dismiss conspiracy theories myself--but I'm willing to pin this debacle on the meat industry as well. Which is not to say that I don't roll my eyes at ex-vegans who write about how eating meat again was the best thing they ever did for themselves, because they also decided to only eat brown rice, so "veganism" was the problem.

Wheat and soy, among other things, are actually good for you. I had dinner the other day with a friend who went off gluten--and she was right to, she did have an intolerance--but gained weight, because she wasn't already eating crappy food that happened to have gluten in it.

OMG what is it with these people who don't understand that weddings aren't fundraisers?

Best child-rearing perspective ever:

“All the things that are ‘best’ for baby are TINY fractions of a percentage point better than the ‘second-best’ things. Family decisions are not made well on ‘the best for her.’ Instead, they are made as a series of complex risk/benefit analyses that take into account the impact on everyone.”

(Archetypes of) writers to resent.

The Onion hits it out of the park with an "article" that will make you simultaneously laugh and cringe.

Tuesday evening roundup and ramble

Food production is stagnating. For the gazillionth time, meat is an environmental disaster (and don't buy into Pollan's argument that sometimes it isn't).

Yeah, the Farhi headline threw me (has he been to the UK? The Guardian is not a 'small' paper).

Terrorism is... breastfeeding in public.

Spending time on one's appearance apparently invalidates you as a feminist.

Eat good fats when you're pregnant. The article failed to mention this, but flax and hemp seeds are great sources of Omega 3s.

There is no price minimum for thank-you notes.

This guy needs to run far, far away from his fiance and this woman needs to run even farther away from her husband.

When will the math people acknowledge that they can't mathicize everything?

OMG, I totally have Bitchy Resting Face and I'm soooooo f*ing sick of people continually asking me what I'm upset about (or being told to smile). Especially when friends or friends of friends do it. Someone at Nina's wedding last year kept asking me what was wrong and it was all I could do not to punch him. And then I had drinks with a friend a few months ago and every three minutes she kept commenting on how I looked really pissed off and she was really worried about me, even though I kept telling her I was fine.


***
I'd like to think that I don't preach--rather, I inform; in that vein, I feel the need to inform you of when I don't practice what I (don't?) preach: for example, when I use RoundUp on my poison ivy. It happens; there are things in this world, it turns out, against which baking soda is no match. Things that call for crud cutter (or is it Krud cutter? who the f* knows? The spray bottle is upstairs because I've taken it to my bathtub). I finally got around to recaulking my bathtub (for the third time in about a year; something had to give, and I sprung for quicker-drying, less environmentally-friendly caulk). But once I recaulked, the shiny white caulk starkly exposed the grime on the rest of the tub, so I had to deal with it. Just letting you know.

Monday evening roundup

This story about victim-blaming will make you very angry, as will the comments suggesting that women journalists had best limit themselves to "safe" places.

The story of the dentist who fired his hygienist for being too attractive is also less than joy-affirming.

This photo of lasers pointing at a helicopter in Cairo is awesome.

Brand-name drugs are a waste of money but some brand-name foods are not. Have I told you that I'll only buy oats at Mom's Organic Market now? I've been spoiled to the point where other oats (which also happen to be more expensive) don't taste right to me.

I can understand the critiques of AA, but it struck me how--and this is unsaid in the article--alcohol here is similar to food: it's still fine in moderation, and the occasional overindulgence will do, as long as you have things under control.

Sea lampreys have smoking-hot sex.

How'd I miss national vegan pizza day? I made up for it by having an amazing vegan quesadilla for dinner.

The cutest thing ever today:

Monday morning roundup

Tanzania shows signs of slipping, but it can't, because that would suck.

I don't understand why a country like ours makes such a clusterf* out of maternal care.

Anthony Weiner begs the analogy that goes, "there lives on YouTube a honey badger..."

Is there a mumpsimus in your life?