WordyDoodles Reboot!

Oh hi 2012. January is past, February is here and it's way past time for a bit of a blog refresher. I've been giving this a lot of thought in the past few months: What should WordyDoodles be in 2012? What would be fulfilling to focus on here?

Image by Flickr user Kristina B

I loved the idea of keeping the blog wide open to almost any point of discussion. I liked the idea of continuing to share personal parenting stories. But I realized that as enticing as it is to think about maintaining an all-things-to-all-people-including-me blog, to write that blog is a lot less enticing.

So WordyDoodles is becoming a more focused space. Less tumblr (which I love), more blogger. If you're into topline summary, skip the below and go to the "What We Write About" page. For the details, right below tells you what we're drilling down on:

1. Politics. This will be mostly opinion on what's happening in 2012. There might be some measure of fan-girling Five Thirty Eight. There will be a lot of asking what your opinion is. Don't worry if you are not an expert. I am not an expert. Busy people, sleep-deprived new parents, and people who don't follow politics zealously are still absolutely encouraged to comment. We all are affected by decisions our lawmakers make, so we should have a space to muse and think "out loud" (or, ahem, wordydoodle) about these decisions and our opinions.
2. Art and style. This includes design of all kinds- architecture, clothing, etc. Beautiful things we create. This is sometimes going to overlap with politics because it's also about how we see things, how we perceive things, how we present ourselves and how we communicate when we do it beautifully, which to me is the epitome of style no matter what you are wearing.
3. Immigrant perspectives. This is mostly my perspective as a daughter of immigrants, on any topic. I want to highlight it specifically as a WordyDoodles focus because I just don't often see things approached from this perspective and I wish I did. If you're not sure what this means, don't sweat it. It will become clear as we blog along. This topic also might intersect with politics, but not as heavily as you might think. Maybe not much at all. This focus is included more to give voice to places where immigrant voices and second generation voices are not part of the conversation at all, where it seems they've been forgotten: much of mainstream media, pop culture, traditional news outlets. It's been a while since Slumdog Millionaire, right?

So that's where we're headed. I'm thrilled to be blogging more again. I've missed it. I can't wait to talk with you all.

P.S. To that end, I'm going to be writing mostly at night and on weekends, posting during the day, and answering comments at night. So if it's a little while before I answer, never fear! I'm coming to reply.

How WashU was desegregated: Thank you Dr. King.

Huston Smith is a storyteller, and this story is his. I was simply lucky enough to be there when he told it-- once to our Berkeley congregation, and once in a special retelling for my daughters.

***



in 1964

Huston was a professor at Washington University in St. Louis when it was still segregated. He found a phone number for Martin Luther King, Jr., dialed it and asked him to come to the university to support its desegregation.

Dr. King agreed to come, but said that he did not fly. Huston replied that it was all right, and that he would meet him at the train station. So he came.

Huston laughed that he did not trust this great man to his own driving, so he got a taxi and was able to spend the time in the cab with him talking. (Huston didn't mention what they talked about.) Then Dr. King gave an impassioned speech, one Huston said that he "thought of as a rehearsal for his 'I've been to the mountaintop' speech." Indeed, not long after this, King went on to the March on Washington.

The next day, the university was desegregated.

***

No doubt it was thanks to the persistent work of many people over a long time, but the catalyst was surely the words and presence of Dr. King. I thanked Huston for standing up to the status quo, for putting his work and himself on the line for justice, and for standing with Dr. King at a time when it was dangerous to do so. May we all continue standing together for justice.


***
For some unique photographs telling some of the much lesser-known stories of the civil rights movement, check out the New York Times' Lens blogpost, "Honoring the Struggles and Sacrifices," by David Gonzales. Don't miss the story of Koinonia Farms in photo #4, which you can read if you click the tiny link just below the image.

I gave a lot of hugs this morning

Hug #1: Paloma when she ran into our room and right on top of me at 3:30 AM.

Hug #2: Sabrina when she woke up, called for me, told me to leave and go back to my room, asked me to come back because there were monsters in her bed, and finally let me pick her up and snuggle at 7 AM.

Hug #3: Paloma who sobbed that her clothes were all uncomfortable and the outfit she picked out last night needed to be changed. Usually we make them stick to whatever they pick out the night before, but today I just had a sense she needed a hug and a little bit of flexibility.

Hug #4: Paloma, who told me flat out that she didn't like being left at school and wanted the family to be all together. Hugged and then her teacher gently called her over (and good thing she changed and was comfortable because it was picture day!).

Hug #5: Paloma has a very close friend at school whose father, H, has cancer. He has gone downhill alarmingly fast. A few weeks ago, Paloma went with them to a show. Today, I stopped K, her friend's mom, and asked how she was doing. "Good! Not good." And in her Danish-y English (they're recent immigrants) she told me how very, very sick H was today, how he was at the doctor and couldn't talk anymore. And I gave K a strong hug. And she started to cry.

 Hug #6: Sabrina wanted to keep holding hands at preschool this morning. Hanging on and on. I gave her a big hug and told her I couldn't wait to hear how her day goes. Her teacher asked her to help bring the snack inside, and she let go.

Hug #7: I saw a little girl in Sabrina's class crying and kind of wandering around. I gave her a gentle pat on the back as I was walking out and she just fell against my legs, sobbing. So I gave her a big hug too.

Seven hugs by 9:10 AM. One of those days I felt like my mandate as a mama is Free Hugs For Everyone.


And if I could give these sweet kids hugs too, I would!

so delicious dairy-free easy to whip up balsamic vinegar

So good, you'll be looking for a salad or bread or meat or something to dip this into. Apples are also insanely good with this.

Use organic ingredients if you've got them.

Makes enough for maybe two-ish salads? Or so. This recipe is not an exact science. It's exactly delicious though.

• 1/4 c. olive oil
• 2 T. balsamic vinegar
• 1 small diced shallot (this is the KEY!)
• 1/2 tsp. whole grain mustard (the gritty kind, not the bright yellow kind)
• 1 T. (or, you know, a big dollop) maple syrup
• pinch kosher salt
• pinch fresh ground black pepper

Whirl that up in a blender or, as I prefer, with your handy dandy handheld stick blender, and you're good to go.

I'm saving a little jelly jar to keep a double or triple recipe of this in my fridge. Good. Stuff.

my little 5 year old teenager

Eyerolling isn't just for teens! My darling almost five year old has perfected the art of the eye roll, the annoyed face, and the "you" insult, where I say "I think you should think about what you're saying" and then she says, "I think YOU should think about what YOU'RE saying." And then I stop myself from saying OHHELLNO.

I don't want to get too into the details of the exasperating crap because I think you know where this is going (if you don't, think Hall Monitor crossed with Very Sensitive Know It All). And hey, I'm also reminding myself that she's only (almost) five.

But I never let P say these things without telling her it's wrong. Mostly because I want her to see that it's ok to stand up for yourself, and I hope she does it for herself one day.

And to her enormous credit, when I call her out on it, sometimes she ignores me but sometimes she takes it very much to heart. Sometimes too much, like when I told her I thought her behavior was totally unacceptable and she cried and said, "Don't call the police!" !? I reassured her that they weren't part of the parenting thing.

Happily, other parents tell me this is not unfamiliar to them either. I'm sorry I am not alone in this boat, but glad too because this makes it more likely that it's a phase and less likely that I'm somehow raising an insufferable little human who will grow to be an insufferable adult. Which is my #1 parental fear, to fail at raising two people who will help their communities and world be a little kinder and better and instead have burdened the world with a couple more Bernie Madoffs.

That's over the top, ok. But that is why I should never have read something like "We Need to Talk About Kevin" during your pregnancy. It was part of my book club and during the whole thing, I kept fretting, "But she [the mom] did things mostly right. And LOOK WHAT HAPPENED!!!" Pregnancy and books about kids going on insane rampages = terrible mix.

During my second pregnancy, I think the heaviest my reading got was, I don't know, McSweeney's?

Anyway. I have an almost three year old and almost five year old, and I can see clearly that we are exiting the land of sheer physical exhaustion and the mental discipline that is required just to keep up with the day. And now entering the new land of greater physical independence. Which may be or may very well not be accompanied by emotional independence of sorts. There's definitely independent thinking, imagination and ideas flowing, which is delightful except when it's cheeky and I have to remember "good-with-bad."

I'm reminded me of the first lesson of pregnancy, childbirth and postpartum, which for me was-- this relationship is always changing.

Rachel Roy is Amazing

So many things are YES about Rachel Roy. Her vision for art and fashion are so fresh and feminine and just right. But it's her larger philosophy to help raise women's voices that makes me want to be a devotee. Because long after the runway show is over, it's the spirit of the art and of the women who will wear it that should live on.

Her approach to design work and to mothering is so inspiring. She's intense yet still centered. In charge and all around fabulous.

I never knew pop and that's ok

I was so popculturally ignorant as a child that I didn't know if that popular singer was PAUL Abdul or PAULA Abdul. I never listened to pop radio, so who knew if we were talking about a man or woman? I didn't.

I grew up listening to classical music in the car with my dad. It was turned way, way up. He liked it LOUD. Also, then we didn't have to talk because we could just be moved by the music and that was enough communicating for a day.

And with my mom driving, we listened to nothing. We were silent. Because she was *nervous* and *concentrating.*

So that was that. We had no MTV because we could just pick up channels with our tv antenna, and why would you pay for tv? We got no newspaper except for the Sunday paper, and then I pulled out the comics and tried to understand Doonesbury. I tried to understand them all-- Cathy, Family Circus, Foxtrot, Blondie. But I never got any of them. I always skipped to the puzzles at the end.

And I grew, and it didn't seem to really matter that I still wasn't a big Top 40 person (and haha, I've gone through much of my life not knowing what Top 40 even is). I'm just not. I still love Beethoven more than anything. I love folk music, including folk rock, jazz, blues, hip hop. I can appreciate a rad MC. I really really love analyzing films. I love live performances-- modern dance, modern ballet, storytellers. I love architecture. I love beautiful books and winding stories. I love being in old theaters. I *loved* being a house manager back in the day. I have a dream to be not just a donor but a patron of a dance company one day.

I don't love Justin Bieber or Taylor Swift, I don't get what's great about their songs, and I don't want to hear music that sounds like that. That eliminates about ten thousand other singers. I don't love boring models doing boring poses half naked on beds, motorcycles or a zillion other cliches. I don't love fashion UNLESS it's beautiful and/or meaningful. I do love fashion and makeup as art. I especially love political fashion because that is bold and necessary. I love food that has been loved in the making.

Why write this? Because for some years now, I've really loved being me and felt like it might make life fabulous to just love the things I love, and a fabulous life deserves some examination to determine what thoughts and values and choices make me me.

It's way beyond what I like and what I don't like in art, music, etc. There's work and work ethic, there's politics and food and education and science and religion and all the ways we advance.

But then this becomes a post that is way too long and self-indulgent, and while it might be said that the nature of wordydoodles, like the nature of drawing doodles, is self-indulgent, well, 1. I myself wouldn't say that, and 2. I would like wordydoodles to be a good read and a good place to start a conversation.

And so: Do you deviate from the mainstream in some ways too? Do you love it?