heads up

In a little bit, this little chunk of webspace will move. Not far, though. It'll be http://www.championofthesemicolon.blogspot.com and it will be far, far prettier than what you see here. Also, more content. Yay content! Perhaps even some kind of unified purpose or theme, but I won't get ahead of myself with the promises.

Let's hear it for the Cubs

The National League central division champions! Granted that this is no guarantee of anything - pennant, series... they're both still off in the ether. Still! Last week's no-hitter! The walk-offs! Wood's return! Who's stoked? This girl.

In other news, I've started the exercise in frustration known as Law School Applications. It took me altogether too much deliberation, but I have my list of five (in approximate order of preference - the first two are nearly tied): Lewis and Clark, UW, Temple, Northwestern and UO. Ideally, I won't leave the West Coast and can maintain much of my present bike-heavy, low-cost lifestyle.

Writing these essays has been pretty handily kicking my ass. Boxing class too, but less so.

If you read one campaign op-ed this week...

Make it this one.

White privilege is when you can claim that being mayor of a town smaller than most medium-size colleges, and then governor of a state with about the same number of people as the lower fifth of the island of Manhattan, makes you ready to potentially be president, and people don't all piss on themselves with laughter, while being a black U.S. senator, two-term state senator and constitutional law scholar means you're "untested."

The Palin Rant

As much as I hate to admit it at times, I love Alaska. My homeland is my homeland, even if I never live there again. Sarah Palin is part of the reason I left. Not she herself, per se; when I was looking to leave AK upon graduation from high school, she was still safely sequestered in Wasilla. (Yes, viewers of the SNL skit, it IS the meth capital of Alaska.) The rabid right-wingers like her - hockey moms and folks with retrograde ideas of gender roles and all of that - are the ones who make me grimace.

Sarah Palin herself, though, is a tremendously frightening possible president. Every woman in this country should be scared. Her record on taking care of rape victims is reprehensible. Should sexual assault victims pay their medical bills? Evidently Palin doesn't think so, and further, doesn't have the compassion to consider the health and well-being of her constituents. Look up the rape statistics for Alaska, and for the Mat-su valley (Wasilla and Palmer) specifically. It's a problem that she more or less ignored. Never mind the book banning atrocities.

An interesting effect is the fallout among Alaskans. A 1500-strong protest, an unheard-of phenomenon in the notoriously not-in-my-backyard-or-I'll-shoot-you type residents of my hometown, went down last week. AGAINST Palin. Our popular governor.

Another interesting piece of fallout: horrendous right-wing woman-who-hates-women Lyda Green denounced her former ally. In the blue state rag The New Yorker, no less. Green introduced and or supported the dismantling of women's and Native Alaskan rights as effectively as a wrecking ball in her tenure. The interesting part? Green and Palin are ideological allies in nearly all ways (they probably both root for the New Jersey Devils because Anchorage superstar Scotty Gomez plays for them), but Green hasn't been shy about unleashing some admittedly petty and personal screeds against Palin. Palin, it seems, is a politician through and through - she is not shy about burning bridges.

Speaking of bridges, it is a well-documented fact that Palin SUPPORTED THE BRIDGE TO NOWHERE INITIATIVE UNTIL CONGRESS SAID IT WAS A RIDICULOUS USE OF FEDERAL FUNDS. Apologies for the excessive caps, but everyone needs to know this about that be-lipsticked opportunist.

Gloria Steinem said it best: A woman in the White House is not good enough. She has to be the woman for the job. Palin is not pro-woman. Palin stands for the same doctrine as our present administration and will only further destroy our social services, our economy and our credibility with other nations.

Oh, and she's COMPLETELY UNQUALIFIED. btw.

ETA: I heart Katha Pollitt.

yikes

When Karl Rove says you're running a dirty campaign, you're definitely
running a dirty campaign. Link:
http://www.cnn.com/2008/POLITICS/09/14/campaign.wrap/

(email post)

what's a water bear and why are they stronger than us?

This is fascinating. A tiny critter can survive near absolute zero - something use spined creatures could never hope to do. Not that I'd switch my sentience for the ability to perma-hold my breath, but still. Neat!

NY times RSS special du jour

Welp, if it's not the Mayan doomsday, it's the newest particle collider. CERN goes online tomorrow, and while I rationally understand that the solar system and its immediate surrounds will likely NOT collapse as a results of kooky scientists playing God, the outside possibility is humbling and amusing. It's a very "find your higher power" moment - with or without my approval, someone will flip that switch in Switzerland, and we either will or will not continue to exist. I've been putting a lot of stock in Recovery lingo lately - accepting the status quo and focusing on personal development rather than what I cannot change, etc - and it's definitely a result of the new job. I'm the only person on staff (that I know of) who is not in recovery, and it's even more humbling than Higgs bosons or potential cataclysmic destruction. We are all works in progress, little personal construction zones who create ripples upon ripples overlapping other personal construction zones. That said, my ripples can't control whether or not we all get mooshed into a walnut-sized mass in a matter of hours, so I'm not going to sweat it too much.

Speaking of sweat, my boxing class hurts so good.

From another interesting NYT article:

For social-role psychologists, the bad news is that the variation is going in the wrong direction. It looks as if personality differences between men and women are smaller in traditional cultures like India’s or Zimbabwe’s than in the Netherlands or the United States. A husband and a stay-at-home wife in a patriarchal Botswanan clan seem to be more alike than a working couple in Denmark or France. The more Venus and Mars have equal rights and similar jobs, the more their personalities seem to diverge.

I can't help but speculate that gender is becoming a more visible, more acceptable place to hang one's identity. Does that make it ripe for codification? Must we all be something-boys and something-girls: party boys, sporty girls, butch ladies and bro-dawgs? The whole thing makes me wish we could all bypass gender in a sense. It's never been the hugest deal with me, and I now embrace a sort of genderqueerishness that I resisted for a while. Identity is not necessarily equal to gender in my head, but maybe that's just me.

Palin rant and Chi-town pictures coming soon. I promise. am housesitting, so it's hard to get my pictures up and running with this damn dial-up.

not sure about this.

I have business cards. Be sure to ask me for one. You'll be guaranteed to scare the crap out of me. Aren't business cards for responsible professionals? I still haven't quite mastered color coordinating my outfits. This is a sign of competence well beyond my comfort zone. It might not be okay to be inept at this job - that's new. Hmm.

Industry! Science! Technology!

Well, I had a constructive weekend. I was honored to be a part of a task force of four handywomen, bent on adding 100 square feet of garden space to an already charming North Portland home. A 6'x10' bed, two 2'x6' beds and a 20"x6' bed now await planting. The woodwork was only half the job, and I wish I could kipe pictures off of a myspace page to show a) how great the beds look and b) just how much dirt we moved up some pretty obnoxious stairs.

For the illustrated part of the show, I do have photographic evidence of the compost boxes that a proud member of the aforementioned team and I put together. They only took about and hour to an hour and a half apiece. Because of technical difficulties (poor planning in the power tool department) this entire compost bin project was done with hand tools. Old school saws. Hammers. Nails. It was intensely rewarding.



Pictures of Chicago forthcoming. Rant about Sarah Palin ongoing.

the morning peloton

Every day, I bike across the Hawthorne bridge - arguably the most iconic of Portland's 12 river spans. It's certainly the most crowded, as literally thousands pedal over it every day; the bulk of these riders, like me, travel east to west to get downtown, to the med school, or to the West Hills. As such, depending on when I get my start in the morning, I tend to be in a crush of about thirty other cyclists. This peloton contains casual commuters like myself, bespandexed muscle-cases, scrawny bike messenger-types, middle-aged power-riders with bikes far more expensive than necessary, cruisers on cruisers, and so on. There's a bit of reshuffling, cries of "on your left!", before we all drop into the chute, the downslope that raises Madison street above the Southeast industrial district. Once we're speeding down that course, it's single file for a quarter mile because of heavy foot traffic. The pedestrians merge onto the bridge and skitter like mice while biker after biker zips by. Only assholes try to pass on the bridge itself during morning rush hour.

I used to bike into the heart of downtown (which admittedly is not at all far from the Hawthorne bridge), but now I turn off earlier and cruise down Naito parkway. Most bikers opt for riding along the waterfront, but I can't stand all the traffic (foot, bike, recumbent and rent-a-cop) and there's no easy way to get to my turn from that path. Natio has a straight-shot bike lane and very few northbound cars. I'm going half a mile to a mile further everyday now, but it doesn't take me any longer than it did to wend and wind between cars in the thick of downtown's morning riots used to.

The peloton will thin out when the rains begin. Don't think that I'm sad about it, either. The camaraderie of dozens of speeding bikers wears thin, just like a pack of Toyotas caught in the 7:45 jam. The wet makes it harder to stop quickly, and less experienced bikers will often eat shit because their brakes aren't reacting "normally" in a downpour. The rain itself is an obvious deterrent, too. The familiar faces in the pack are the folks I've seen day after day for months, folks I've commiserated with during storms and heat alike. Still, the crowd becomes more of a trickle. For the here and now, though, my morning peloton gives me such a fucking rush. It's my own personal Tour, contracted into a fifteen minute bridge sprint.

lentil raviloli AKA super-yum wads

Note to vegans: Wonton wrappers without some kind of egg derivative or whey are EXTREMELY difficult to find. If you are lucky enough to have a fairly thorough Asian market near you, that's probably your best bet. My co-op did not have much to offer, despite their ordinarily thorough veganishness. So use whatever vegan pasta you can dredge up.

Filling:
2/3 c lentils
half a medium onion, diced
a couple cloves of garlic, minced
1 or 2 tbsp minced ginger root
cumin, curry powder and coriander to taste
small splash of oil
diced spinach

Sauce:
1 14oz can diced tomatoes
1/4 c rice vinegar
1/2 c brown sugar
2 tbsps minced ginger (I used more)
cinnamon stick

Saute onions, garlic and ginger. Throw in the spices until things start to get fragrant. Add the lentils with enough water to cover. If you want some spice, add hot sauce or cayenne here. Cook until the lentils are soft but still hold their shape. Add the spinach until just wilted. Remove lentil mass from heat and let cool a bit. Some heat is fine, but it shouldn't be hot.

Dissolve the sugar in the vinegar on medium-low heat. Add the tomatoes and cinnamon stick and simmer until you can smell the cinnamon. Remove the cinnamon stick and keep the sauce warm. Adding a few dried cranberries is pretty tasty, too.

Spoon a heaping teaspoon of the filling into a wonton wrapper, leaving a half inch of clearance on all sides. Seal the wonton, using a little water as glue. Boil the ravioli-wontons for about four minutes. Top with sauce and serve. Makes four modest portions. Goes well with beet salad.

ETA: Ginger in the sauce. Toss it in with the tomatoes. Trust me.

My kingdom for tickets...

"San Francisco non-profit City Arts & Lectures has enlisted good folks
from around the music world for a series of conversations and
performances it calls "Talking Music".

The list of music-makers taking part in the series over the next
several months includes John Darnielle (the Mountain Goats), Neko Case
(herself/the New Pornographers), Will Sheff (Okkervil River), Stephin
Merritt (the Magnetic Fields) and Laurie Anderson. Each of these
"Talking Music" events feature the musicians "in conversation and
song" alongside a literary light acting as host. Merritt has been
paired up with his Gothic Archies partner Daniel Handler (who also
writes the Lemony Snicket books), while Laurie Anderson is "in
conversation" only (no music) with Our Band Could Be Your Life scribe
Michael Azerrad.

All "Talking Music" events will take place at the Herbst Theatre in
San Francisco's Performing Arts Center."

(kiped from Pitchfork)

Meg, you'd best hit this up.

Welcome to the inaugural voyage of posting-by-email, which makes for slightly less conspicuous goofing off at work and (I hope) slightly more plentiful posting on el blogadero. If there's a confidentiality message at the bottom of the post, please disregard.

Getting mistaken (once again) for a dude was a small price to pay for free tea from Amanda'splace of employment. Damn clueless middle-aged white men. Anyway, the tea is delightful. Spearmint! So fresh!

Everyone should read The Canon by Natalie Angier. Yes, I am given to hyperbole from time to time, but this book, by a Pulitzer-winning science journalist for such esteemed venues as the New York Times and NPR, demystifies the hard sciences with depth and hilarity. I actually want to take a statistics class, and I am the slacker queen of math. (I had modest talent for it in high school, but no motivation. So I flunked out of calculus and never touched a math book again. This turn of events kept me away from majoring in a hard science, despite my love of all things biological. Admittedly, realizing this while reading Angier's introduction made for some sour grapes.) The Canon fully embodies the somewhat cheesy but heartfelt blurbs on the back jacket. It's rad.

filling in some gaps

First, and of minimal importance: the Cubs are doing quite well. Leading their division, donating several fiery arms and bats to the NL all stars, and only occasionally breaking my heart. I no illusions about the strong early and mid-seasons leading to inevitable heartbreak, but a girl can dream. That's what makes her a Cubs fan.

Anyway, I realized that this catch-as-catch-can blog doesn't really cover what I've been up to lately in any detail. So, an update. The new job - as an office manager in a 12-bed halfway house - treats me well. The clients (primarily homeless drug addicts, all men) are cordial, my coworkers are pretty interesting, and my hours are fairly flexible. That said, it's also pretty draining. Impulse control among the clients (and the occasional coworker) is lacking. Everything is URGENT. As the logistics gal, all of these demands fall to me. To say nothing of the lack of air conditioning in this sweat box. Damn August.

Family reunion number two commenced in Chicago, revolving around my grandfather's memorial service. My great-uncle, father, aunt, cousin and I all spoke, as well as some old friends and colleagues. I was surprised at the turn-out initially, but my grandpa was such a kind, intelligent, witty and generous man that I realized that he'd be remembered by many, many more. This was the first time I'd met some of these relatives. I met a very cool second cousin who seems to have a viable Broadway career, among other accomplished cousins and folks-once-removed.

I'm running. Boxing class starts in September, and (free!) yoga begins next week. I went vegetarian a few months ago and haven't looked back. The body is well on its way to detoxification after the abuse I put it through so far.

Presently reading The Red Tent. It's pretty disappointing. The time period fascinates me, but the writing is meh. I'm not wild about the biblical beget-fest or the aggrandizing of Earth Mama-ness beyond all reason. Still, I'll finish it. Ancient midwifery is kind of cool.

Law school may wait. There's a bit more youth to take advantage of before I consign my future to massive debt and a questionable career path. Still, it's in the cards.

fun fact

There are no Saints by the names of Eric or Erika (with any spelling). However, the Catholic saint whose feast day is my birthday is Saint Bibiana. She just so happens to the be the patron saint of hangovers, the mentally ill, the insane, and "single laywomen." I sort of wish that I were a lapsed Catholic so I could enjoy this trivia all the more.

I've been having some doubts about the Law School in 2009 plan. There seems to be an awful lot more to do while I'm young and my debt is minimal. Thoughts?

Also: Dark Knight? Easily the best Batman flick so far. Discussion of responsible use of power and law enforcement ethics aside, the writing was excellent and well buttressed by good-to-quite-good acting and editing worthy of The Bourne Ultimatum. Christian Bale, as I was saying to my movie-going companion last night, is easily my favorite Batman. He's as good of a bratty Bruce Wayne in public as he is a brooding Bruce Wayne as Batman. The performative elements of that character came across really, really well. Props, Chris Nolan. Mad props.

FYI

If you're telling me about Sen. Ted Stevens, it's pronounced in-dy-ted, not in-dick-ted. Also, to save you that first question, yes. I've heard about all of that.

the triumphant return

I'm back from Montana and the Sierras and definitely wish I were still lounging in, on and around beautiful mountain lakes. Not that being back in dear, sweet PDX is a shame. My workplace finally opened its doors for clients, and while I'm pretty limited in what I can report about that, I can surely say for now that it's going well. The only bumps (so far) have been administrative. So I continue to be the unofficial VOA Oregon bike messenger, but hey.

Lentil ravioli with ginger sauce tonight. I'll post the recipe if I don't screw it up too badly. Meantime, have some photos.

The elder generation of Whitaker cousins. Ad, me, Nick, Lisa.

Me and my cousin Patrick. Pato has three sisters, not pictured, who are amply documented on my flickr site. They're rad, but this was too cute to pass up.


Echo Lake in Montana. It's near Flathead in the Kalispell area.

In the Sierras, we hiked to this lake. I forget what it's called, but it's near Mt. Rose.


In other news, Ted Stevens was indicted. Not surprising, but I almost feel sorry for the doddering old fella.

VayCay.

Away for a week for some family time. I'll likely return with pictures and terse tales of tension. In the meantime, for those of you who haven't seen my pad, here's a summer summary.

check it, part deux

I can kind-of, sort-of swim. I'm not very good, but I don't freak out in the water anymore.

check it

http://portland.craigslist.org/mlt/npo/748478265.html