Category: Home Life

Happy Birthday Jesus! Love, The Slaves

(c) Paul Kuczynski . Via http://twentytwowords.com/2012/07/06/13-dark-pieces-of-satire-to-make-you-stop-and-think/

(c) Paul Kuczynski . Via http://twentytwowords.com/2012/07/06/13-dark-pieces-of-satire-to-make-you-stop-and-think/

So here’s my rant for the day.

I’ve seen a blog floating around, proclaiming that those who shop on Thanksgiving Thursday “are part the problem.”

I agree. Whole-heartedly.

But the idea that we can separate Thursday from Black Friday is absurd to me.

Because in both cases, we’re not merely interrupting the holidays of our friends who now have to work instead of eat more turkey; we’re not merely contributing to and bolstering a wholly consumerist culture. No, in any case – whether shopping on Thursday, Friday, or throughout the month for red hot deals and steals from standard retailers – we’re contributing to the global slave trade. We’re burying our heads in the sand and pretending that Wal-Mart and Target employees are the only ones who warrant consideration in this sordid tale of stuff hoarding, all in celebration of the Sweet Baby Jesus.

Even when we bypass Thursday’s sales “on principle” and shop Black Friday instead, we’re almost certainly purchasing things produced by slaves around the world.

I cannot emphasize this enough: If we’re shopping for deals and steals, demanding cheaper stuff, we’re not shopping with a conscience.

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Dear Birthing Mothers: On What Not To Say Out Loud

shutterstock_50928265-490x326

Dear Birthing Mothers,

I’ve wanted to write this letter to you, to us, for a while. But until this moment, it’s been a thing of anger for me. I’ve read your comments, your Facebook statuses; I’ve read of your wishes and dreams and hopes and losses, and I’ve seethed with anger at your ignorance.

But right now, in this moment, I’m not so much angry with you as I am sad and hurt for those you unknowingly wound.

Like me.

Like my hyster-sisters.

Like all the mothers who’ve lost their babies before they were born, or in the birthing suite, or long before they were ever unborn beauties and were only plans.

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Respect? That’s My Son’s Job

IMG_8674I’ve read a LOT of blogs lately. Blogs about how girls should dress, how young ladies should protect young men, how the way a girl dresses defines her. I’ve read about how a girl is responsible for the looks she gets, for what goes on in a boy’s mind, for if and how much he lusts after her. I’ve read blogs from mothers of sons, who’ve warned girls of the impending Facebook block, should she show up too scantily clad on one of her son’s Facebook feeds (I applaud her, and I think I might want to try this). 

As the youngest of four girls belonging to a pastor, I was very much raised to dress modestly. Constantly aware of the length of my shorts, the tightness of pants, the thickness of the straps on my tank tops, the cut of necklines, and the openness of dress backs. And Lord knows, two-piece swimsuits were simply out of the question. 

And I don’t disagree. We women were created with a unique and curvy beauty, designed specifically to appeal to men’s physical and mind’s eyes. Knowing it, we have a responsibility to dress ourselves both in clothing and in dignity. For our own sake as much as anything else. 

But here’s the thing: As the stepmom of a 16-year-old young man and mom of a 2-year-old toddler (whose world-in-14-years will undoubtably make me cringe in new ways), I’m annoyed. 

I’m annoyed that all the preaching to “keep a boy’s mind pure” seems to be aimed at girls. Because that’s my sons’ job. 

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underCover: “Lovesong”

About a year ago, my brilliant guitarist husband (Paul Koopman) and I worked out what we think is a great cover of The Cure’s ageless wonder, “Lovesong.” 

I’ve always been moved by the song’s simplicity. Lyrically, it’s nothing terribly fancy, and yet it says everything we want to say to and hear from our lovers. Full of that agape/eros love that’s totally invested, utterly vulnerable, and completely unconditional.

However far away…However long I stay…Whatever words I say…I will always love you.

There’s this magic to it. This real-life base that cautions even as it guarantees: We won’t always be together, some times will be shorter than others, and in the together and apart, I will absolutely inevitably say things that hurt you… 

But.

I will always love you. 

These promises are tucked into the reality that is Love: When I’m alone with you, I’m whole and at home. I feel young and wild, like a kid in a candy shop. I feel free. And clean. 

This song is the epitome of the hope inherent to Love.

There are songs every songwriter wishes she wrote, and this is one of the grandest for me. If I had written this song, I’d feel no need to ever write again. It says everything, perfectly. 

We love the song. And so we who never cover songs decided we ought to cover it. And we ought to make it as emotive and vulnerable as possible. 

And thus, we give you our cover of “Lovesong.” 

Dreams and Deliverance

All rights reserved by Ryan Montgomery [source: flickr]

“underwater 1” | All rights reserved by Ryan Montgomery [source: flickr]

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had one superpower in my dreams. I don’t fly. Flying terrifies me. Even if I’m riding on a particularly strong and sure dragon, I lack the confidence to remain peaceably in the air. And more often than not, the dragon gets very angry with me because I’m clinging so tightly to its scales as to cause pain. To a dragon. But water? I can do water. When I swim in my sleep, I’m afraid for about three seconds until I realize I can breathe under water. And it’s amazing. Exhilarating. Magical. 

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