Monthly Archive for November, 2008

Thug Turkey

Published on November 29, 2008 in DIY and women. 0 Comments

When my mother was my age, she had three kids and had cooked many a Thanksgiving dinner. I have been blissfully child-free all these years and able to mooch off the largesse of those families who actually “do” Thanksgiving.

But this year, I decided I’d “do” Thanksgiving, turkey and all. But I was kind of nervous about it, since it seemed like a honkin-ass big bird (“I got the smallest one I could find, honey!”). I wasn’t even sure when to take it out of the freezer. So I asked the three lovely ladies in my writer’s group, who, among other things, all seem to be blessed with domestic skills I lack. One of ladies suggested that I baste my turkey with cognac. She is French and I suspect everything she ever puts in the oven turns out bee-yew-tifully!

I asked what kind of cognac to use but then I lost that note among the four hundred and twelve other notes floating around on top of my desk. But I did remember that one of them had said it was a cognac mentioned in all the rap songs, so I told that to Chris, who immediately said, “Hennessy. Hennessy is the thug cognac of choice.”

Well, I knew that wasn’t the right cognac, or at least it wasn’t the one they had mentioned,  but we decided to go with it. And Chris was right, if you look up Hennessy drinks online, they’re all badboy drinks: “Headcrack” or “Hustler’s Paradise” or “Green Hulk.”

I went online to look to check out “basting with cognac.” There was one recipe called “Turkey basting made sleazy,” which recommends basting the turkey via the rear end while it’s still alive. Ew. But I found another recipe that recommended basting it with Hennessey and milk, 24 hours before cooking. So I did that. Then I continued basting throughout the cooking process, adding more Hennessy as desired.

Wow, that turkey looked beautiful. It really did. I have never seen such a great brown skin on a turkey before. My first turkey. Sob. And I owe it all to thugs.

I used the thermometer–it said it had reached 180 degrees so we took it out and cut into it and I thought it looked suspiciouisly pink. Maybe it was fine. I don’t know. There was one swab of flesh that looked pinkish to me, not bloody, just pink more than white. So we put it back in for another hour. By the time we took it out, it was cooked, maybe a little too well–kinda dry and tough because, after all, we had sliced it before dumping it back in the oven.

Oh, well,  the method was obviously fine. The skin? Tasted effin fantastic! I just needed to leave the flesh in longer….

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True democracy: it can look like total chaos

Published on November 28, 2008 in Africa, Cultural categories, democracy, peace, politics, poverty, power, Social Issues, South Africa, Uncategorized, violence and Zimbabwe. 0 Comments

When I was staying at a guest house in Pretoria, South Africa this summer, I had an invigorating conversation comparing South Africa to Zimbabwe with a man named Simon, a conservationist who lives in Zimbabwe and works on land issues in Mozambique. Simon, a white man of British descent, grew up in Tanzania where his father ran one of the game reserves.

At the time of our conversation, the violent attacks on Zimbabwean refugees in South African cities was still a fresh topic. And Mbeki was busy brokering talks between the leader of the MDC, Morgan Tsvangirai, and Robert Mugabe. Zimbabwe was the talk of the town.

I mentioned that many people in South Africa, especially those critical of Jacob Zuma’s likely ascension to presidency in 2009, are afraid that they’re setting up for a long and terrible fall similar to Zimbabwe’s. “Is that where we’re headed?” they ask. They’re afraid (and who can blame them?) of becoming a place where food security is an enormous issue, where the value of currency plunges so low that you can’t afford to buy a loaf of bread with your monthly salary, where democracy is a joke, and where elections are an excuse for the state to use extreme violence to keep political dissidents in line.

But Simon had an entirely different take on the issue.

“They would be damn lucky if they get to Zimbawe’s state,” Simon declared, “when people are deciding for themselves what they’re going to do, irrespective of the state.”

I would not have had that perspective before talking to Simon. I was too disturbed by pictures of people with their heads split open by military operatives acting on behalf of Mugabe.

I don’t want to under-emphasize the very real violence occuring–or ignore the fact that some people have suggested it may be genocide but I think Simon’s onto something. Democracy doesn’t have to be something endorsed by the state to occur. And maybe democracy doesn’t have to do with voting for a particular candidate. If you think about it, that’s a pretty narrow (and pretty demoralizing) definition of democracy. There’s a saying that “People vote with their feet,” meaning that they migrate to places where they believe they can build a better life. If that’s true, even if it’s only true for some people some of the time, maybe it’s also true that people in Zimbabwe are voting in other ways, every day. By sticking together and helping each other out, they’re voting for neighbors, for friends, for family members. They’re voting for Zimbabwe.

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Fertile Source

Published on November 24, 2008 in adoption, fertility, infertility, literature, sex and women. 0 Comments

blk1small1Catalyst Book Press’s ezine on fertility, infertility, and adoption-related topics, The Fertile Source, is now up and running and we’re accepting submissions. Please go visit it, comment on it, send your friends, and spread the word. Thanks.

I will also be revamping the look of this website in the coming month or two, so please be patient. It may look weird for a little while, or go through some unexplained visual changes.

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Short Hike

Published on November 16, 2008 in Uncategorized. 0 Comments

We pack blanket crackers candy,

trek up the path worn thin by sweat feet

animals, avoiding the thorn infested

fields. Leaving behind

day, sitting well into the night or what seems

like night, the top of the universe

hovering inches above us.

And your face is so close to mine, magnified

like the blades of glass rippling

swimming silver green in this world of dreams.

I’ve got more than enough

to keep me whole. Music dropping

notes into memories

and a glass of wine.

 

We sit and watch planes taxi

in and out of San Francisco’s airport.

Giggles and tears spurting

like mercy out of eyes and mouths

wet with wonder.

 

–Jessica Powers

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When The Circus Leaves Town

Published on November 13, 2008 in literature, poetry, Uncategorized and writing. 3 Comments

And who would repudiate our right to be young and in love

in this city of dreams and denial,

where everything is always going up,

including the rent? I have been loved

in cheaper cities and I have loved in cities

where sand piles up, water disappears,

the earth is cracked and barren. Poetry

is easy to come by in a destitute place,

if you have half a dollar and a few words.

But here in this city of excess, there is no spare

time or words, only spare change hustled

by street kids and homeless men and women.

We can ride to the show, baby, or we can walk.

 

In the streets and on the avenues, I hear them

whispering your name: that is the only thing left

when the circus leaves town.

—Jessica Powers

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Locked Out

Published on November 12, 2008 in Uncategorized and writing. 2 Comments

While you are asleep and Jamaica is asleep

and I am cuddled into a safe warm ball of dreams

and the whole world around us is locked out

beyond the doors and windows of our small apartment,

and even the peeping tom that the neighborhood jerk

spied peeking in our window at 2 a.m. some nights ago

and frightened away by yelling is locked out,

and you are also locked out

of my dream, which is not my dream

but the dream of another Jessica who lived some years ago

and who wanted different things in life.

And in that dream

I am locked out of the world of religion,

the world that was my whole world

but in which I always felt like a peeping tom, just waiting

for the neighborhood jerk to frighten me away by yelling at me

in the cool dawn of morning as I gazed in at the holy ones

sleeping and dreaming, safe and warm in their apartments,

their small apartments—

the world, and me in it, locked out forever.

–Jessica Powers

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Scary picture

Published on November 11, 2008 in Bay Area, Cultural categories, feminism, free speech, marriage, Photos, politics, polygamy, race, religion, sex, Social Issues and women. 3 Comments

mormon-picture.jpgThis picture was taken in Sacramento near the capitol steps prior to voting on Proposition 8, the proposition that banned gay marriage in California. While I find this man’s views appalling, I think he has a right to express them. And although I find his views abhorrent, I prefer someone who is clear on what they think about these issues, who at least is honest about what he thinks, who doesn’t provide mealy-mouthed, watered-down versions of his truth. But I wonder how many Mormons would be as honest as this one? Or how many Mormons would agree with what this man is proclaiming for Mormonism?

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Men Don’t Give Birth, After All

Published on November 10, 2008 in birth stories, Books & News, fertility, health, literature, sex, witches, women and writing. 1 Comment

I just got off the phone with a snotty bookseller in Boston.

I was trying to set up a reading for four of the Boston-area writers in my forthcoming anthology of literary birth stories, Labor Pains and Birth Stories:Essays on Pregnancy, Childbirth, and Becoming a Parent. 

I mentioned the book and said four of my writers live in the Boston area.

“I feel like I’ve done this already,” she said.

My mind started racing. Oh, no, has somebody beaten me to the punch? Has somebody just released an anthology of birth stories?

Then she wanted to know who they were, which is a fair question. I mentioned the first writer (a man), and she snorted. “Did he have children?” she asked.

“Well….yes, he did,” I said.

“Did he give birth?” The only way to describe her tone is Boston-style snide.

“Well, he was there, after all, when his wife gave birth,” I explained–I hope in a gentle, soothing tone, that tried to get across the idea that birth stories are not only for or about women, and that, after all, women are not the only participants in this life-changing event. “And so it seems like he would be qualified to write about his own children’s births…”

“Uh-huh,” she said. “And? Who else?”

I listed the writers in order, my voice shaking as she grew quieter and quieter. Then she said, “We just did an event with a book about miscarriages, so I think we’ve already done this topic.”

Wow, I wanted to say. You think that having a miscarriage is the same thing as giving birth? Who are you? And where can we find your witch’s broom and witch’s hat?

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Drugging your kid–or your dog

Published on November 5, 2008 in Uncategorized. 0 Comments

Yes, I am a hypocrite. I judge parents for being too quick to drug their kids for behavioral problems or too much energy. But I have to say, I sure am glad that Jamaica is on sedatives right now. She got bit by another dog yesterday–the dog took quite a large chunk out of her flesh–and because she has stitches running up her side, she is back to being conehead for the fifth freaking time in her short life. She’s supposed to be sedate and quiet. She’s not supposed to run around like crazy. We’re supposed to avoid what Chris calls the “zoomies.” And without sedatives, she is never sedate. Usually, she’s running back and forth between the living room and my desk, asking me to throw some ball for her. Back and forth, back and forth. Gotta say, it’s nice to have her sitting calmly next to me on the couch while I work. So thank God for drugs!

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The Day After, with a bit of a hangover

Published on November 5, 2008 in politics. 0 Comments

I didn’t realize how stressed I was until last night. I will say one last political thing and then I will return to my former, less political blogging.

I don’t know if Obama will be a great politician, but I hope he is a great president. What I mean by that is this: I don’t know if Obama will create great policies, and he sure is facing an uphill battle with a ton of landmines planted all around him, but I hope he is able to unite this country and help us all feel some pride in being an American again–not just pride here in our own country, but around the world. He has not earned the right to be compared to Nelson Mandela, but my hope for Obama is that he is able to do with Mandela did.  Nelson Mandela was not a great politician in the sense of creating great policies, but he did restore dignity to all South Africans and he became a shining beacon of hope and reconciliation.

We will see. For a blog posting that is notable in its support for Obama while providing a checklist for reality, read here.

And now, on to other, less divisive topics!

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