a binder, goofier discourse

With apologies to my international friends and readers who either aren’t following, or are getting more than they’d like about, the US presidential race. For my friends and readers in the US who are still hearing more than they’d like about the US presidential race, I feel your pain. But I’m going to go ahead and post anyhow.

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On Tuesday night, I faced the debates with a knot in my stomach.

That last few months have been increasingly stressful for all in this country who have convictions about what is best (or worst) for the country. The discourse has become increasingly ugly. Civility has left the building.

It won’t surprise anyone who reads this blog regularly that I am left-leaning.¹ I voted for Obama in 2008, and will enthusiastically vote for him again this year for a variety of reasons. But that’s beside the point.²

The point is that I watched the debate with many months of tension building, expecting to feel outraged. Dismayed. Disturbed.

What I did not expect was to go to bed giggling that night, and to wake up feeling like a 50-pound weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

I thank the binders full of women.³

I have a number of friends and relations who really didn’t see what’s so funny about “binders full of women.” They saw the reaction to it as blown out of proportion for a simple poor choice of phrase. They saw it as distracting from the real issues.

But I saw it as funny.

Really, really funny.

I loved the way people ran with it, and the many, many clever and quick responses.⁴ Sure, Romney’s phrase was only slightly off. If he’d phrased things a little less awkwardly, there might have been nought to run with. But the phrase brought up absurd imagery. And run with it, people did. To my great enjoyment.⁵

For the record, there were plenty of things that Romney said during the debate that I objected to. Things having to do with real issues that I care about deeply. But for all the critically important well-constructed arguments on the issues, for all the articles and the numbers and the counterpoints, none of them has given me so much relief and release and actual hope about the outcome of this election as the binders full of women comment and the ensuing flood of mockery.

So thank you, internetz. You came through for me this time. And thank you, Mitt.⁶

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There are some good analyses out there about why the phrase got such a broad⁷ response. I though this one from the Guardian, brought to my attention by laloca, was particulary good. Here’s an excerpt:

Why did the phrase resonate? Because it was tone deaf, condescending and out of touch with the actual economic issues that women are so bothered about. The phrase objectified and dehumanized women. It played right into the perception that so many women have feared about a Romney administration – that a president Romney would be sexist and set women back. And it turns out the way Romney presented it – that he asked for a study of women in leadership positions – wasn’t true anyway.

¹ I regularly lean really, really far to the left, but I have good balance, so I don’t usually fall over.

² Sort of.

³ In case you missed it, “binders full of women” was an unfortunate phrase used by Romney when telling an anecdote about his efforts to recruit women for positions on his cabinet as Governor of Massachusetts.

And — and so we — we took a concerted effort to go out and find women who had backgrounds that could be qualified to become members of our cabinet. I went to a number of women’s groups and said, can you help us find folks? And they brought us whole binders full of — of women.

To see the full transcript, with a really cool interactive feature that lets you play the section of video from the transcript, check out this page on the 2nd debate at the New York Times.

⁴ Like these, most (if not all) of which can be found on the binders full of women tumblr: 3 rings to rule them all, nobody put’s baby in a binder, Binder?, Gobias, txt from Hillary, Hefner, Bill Clinton. Or the Facebook page, which someone started within seconds of the phrase being uttered. Or the reviews on this binder on Amazon. Or this one.

⁵ I’m sorry, but if the RNC can go gung-ho and build a whole convention theme around a poorly phrased bit of reference ambiguity offered by Obama, folks can have a little fun with Romney’s poorly phrased bit of metonymy.

⁶ Not something that my friends have expected to hear from me.

⁷ Heh. I said “broad.”

rock (friday foto finder)

Once again, Archie has kindly hit on a theme that is very well represented in my photo library. This week calls for “rock.” Continuing down my path-filled path of the last few weeks, I felt this was a good opportunity to show another path. This was a section of a path I went on during my wonderful hike with YTSL of Webs of Significance–now shockingly over a year ago!

Most of the trails we went on during our hike were not paved, but there were a few stretches that were. The rocks¹ in the path below were quite interesting. Many looked like they had patterns, which looked to me a lot like the fossils of ferns. However, I’m not convinced they are. In the 3rd photo you can see very linear cracks in the rocks with the dark fern-like patterns appearing to be growing out from the lines. I’m intrigued, and would love to learn more about what might have caused this. Anyone more versed in geology² than I am?

A stretch of path paved with flat stones somewhere on the Sai Kung Peninsula of Hong Kong.


Don’t these patterns look like ferns?


But look at the very straight-lined cracks, and how the dark fern-like patterns seem to grow from them.

¹Really, I’d be more inclined to call them stones, but you know. Theme.
² Geology rocks. It had to be said.³
³ Actually, I do really like learning about rocks. We collect lots of rocks in this house.

tracks (friday foto finder)

Back in March, I attended a conference in New York City. It was a thoroughly enjoyable trip, and I managed to fit in visits with several dear friends in addition to the time spent at the conference.

I had a poster to present the evening of the first day of the conference, and after a morning of watching talks, I realized that my brain would be completely full if I sat through talks through the whole day. I decided that even if I missed out on some good material in the afternoon, I’d be better off if I had sufficient brain function remaining to allow me the power of speech by the time I was to present my poster.

In other words, I opted to play hooky. For totally legitimate and not at all irresponsible reasons that had nothing to do with the beautiful spring weather.

I started by meeting up with Magpie for a lovely bit of lunch and conversation. I told her that I didn’t have plans to rush back to the conference, but she still had to get back to work. She suggested that I check out the High Line. Actually, upon hearing that I’d never been there, she told me in no uncertain terms that I was required to visit the High Line. And that she expected to see photo documentation.

The High Line, in case you haven’t heard of it (and I hadn’t) is a stretch of elevated railway, a former freight line, that has been converted into a park on Manhattan’s West Side. It stretches for many blocks, with the former tracks converted to a combination of path and landscaping. There are many interesting sights to see along the way, provided by views of the river and skyline, interesting buildings and architectural details and the occasional sculptural installation.

As is my way, I have been slow to share photos. But take photos I did. It was a perfect day for a walk, and I enjoyed the scene and the scenery immensely. There were lots of people out enjoying the surprisingly sunny and warm March day, and the views from the elevated path were intriguing. I took many, many photos. Below are a handful of them.

It was also a great way to spend the day refreshing myself, with fresh air and a bit of exercise, before presenting my poster.

So, Magpie, I don’t remember whether I ever thanked you for your most excellent suggestion. So, thank you!

Lots of people out for a stroll, enjoying a nice long walk above the traffic. (It was so great to be able to walk for blocks in Manhattan without having to go through a single intersection!)

Bits of the old tracks were left here and there as part of the landscaping.

It was very early spring when I visited (technically not actually even spring yet), but there were already some signs of fresh growth among the well tended plantings. (Of course, this was the winter that wasn’t.) I’d love to go back at other times of year to see how things look.

This meandering post was inspired by this week’s friday foto finder theme of “tracks.” It seemed a fine follow-up to my previous paths, too.

keep on path

This sign seems to offer helpful advice, but sometimes I’ve found myself with doubts I’m on the right path.

There is also something to be said for being a trailblazer, and heading off the path. You do need to watch out for hazards like poison ivy, though. Or other pitfalls. There might even be actual pitfalls! I’ve never seen a pitfall, other than in movies or TV shows I saw as a kid. It might actually be cool to build a pitfall, but if you did so, you should probably not do it on the path. For one thing, you’d probably get noticed by others who are out on walks on the path, and they might get suspicious of you out there with your shovel. You did bring a shovel, right? Because you’re not going to make a very effective pitfall if you just try digging a hole with your hands or a stick. Or even a spoon. It would take you a really long time with a spoon. Unless it’s a really big spoon, and unless the ground is really loose. So that’s another reason to go off the path. The ground’s going to be really packed hard on the path, and even if you had half a dozen friends there to help you with their grapefruit spoons, it would take a long time to build a pitfall big enough to catch something. No, I don’t know what you’re likely to catch. If this were a bikepath, you could catch a biker, but we already decided you should go off the path for this. So maybe a raccoon? Because, let’s face it, you’re going to get pretty tired of digging that pitfall, and I doubt you’ll keep at it long enough to make a hole big enough to catch something big like a bear. What were you planning to do with a bear anyhow? So just plan to keep things small and simple. A little hole, covered up with some sticks and camouflaged with some leaves. But not those leaves! I’m pretty sure those are poison ivy.

Come to think of it, it’s safer to keep on the path.

Better yet, keep on the couch and put on an episode of Gilligan’s Island. I’m pretty sure there was an episode where someone tried to make a pitfall.

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This photo was taken at the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park in San Francisco, one of my favorite places in the world. I was remembering this photo with Friday’s theme of “path,” and thought I’d post something about the Japanese Tea Garden, or possibly something more meaningful about my path in life. I may have…strayed.

path (friday foto finder)

This week’s friday foto finder theme is “path.” Archie has been hitting on a string of themes that work really well with my photo collection. Once again, I had dozens of photos with paths to choose from. (And they were easy to find as “paths & roads” is one of my tags I use in iPhoto.) I settled on this pair, and was amused to find that they were taken 6 years ago to the day. (And further, this day happens to be John’s birthday.) These were taken at Storm King Art Center, a large sculpture park near my in-laws’.

To see what paths others have wandered, please pay a visit to the friday foto finder blog.

The Republic of Pants: Election 2012


It’s once again election season in the Republic of Pants. Four years ago, we were gripped by the tight pants race between Corduroy O’Bloomer and Trousers McPants. Today, the pants of the Republic are still split.

The media’s bias-cut stretches the fabric of the truth, tailoring the fit to either the Left Pants Leg or the Right Pants Leg. For those fully comfortable dressing on one side or the other, the choice may seem an easy fit. For those caught between the legs, however, the decision remains an uncomfortable one, and many concerns chafe.

After wearing O’Bloomer for 3 years, many are ready to try on a new pair of Pants. Some complain that O’Bloomer didn’t fit the way they’d hoped, that they’d been deceived by overly flattering dressing-room mirrors. Others never thought he was a good fit, and are pushing to go back to older pants styles. Yet there are still many who support O’Bloomer, and argue that his sturdily constructed pants are only beginning to be broken in.

O’Bloomer and his Vice Pants, Bootcut BiDenim, seek to publicize benefits of The Affordable Cleaners Act, a law by which all pants should be given access to adequate laundering. They claim that better fabric care for all pants will positively impact the well-being of the Republic, as well as addressing the rapidly rising costs of laundry. Critics argue that the dry cleaning companies will clean up while the pants of the Republic are hung out to dry.

Corduroy continues to be hemmed in by threadbare rumors, including that he is a Muslin, or just like Linen. Rumors that he was manufactured abroad persist in spite of his display of his “Made in the Pants Republic” labels.

Opposition styles, though, are also far from universally appreciated. After one of the most awkward and embarrassing fashion shows in decades, Tweed R. Moneypants was selected as challenger to O’Bloomer.

Few would call the Moneypants campaign seamless, with evidence of it being patched up on the fly. Many claim that R. Moneypants is really a pair of reversible pants, showing whichever pattern of his double-face fabric better suits his base. Some dispute his claims that he pulled himself up by his belt-loops, saying that he was braced by his father’s suspenders. Moneypants has further been criticized and for pocketing his assets in offshore Bermuda shorts, and for being in the back pocket of powerful suits with a vested interest in seeing him wear the Pants.

The uncomfortable stiffness of Tweedy’s material has been the butt of many jokes. Hammerpants Rayon, running mate of Moneypants, seems to be cut from a more comfortable pattern, but many doubt that his flashy cloth has enough substance to adequately cover the seat of the Pants Government.

Every fiber of the candidates is being examined for stains, holes and other defects, whether or not they are material to the issues. In this straight-legged race, neither side has the option to be a relaxed fit. Both must stay up on their briefs or risk being caught with their pants down. As the old adage goes, “He who slacks off gets sent to the cleaners.”

Both O’Bloomer and Moneypants are expected to be neatly pressed for the upcoming debates, with carefully tailored responses under their belts. Questions likely to be addressed include: How will each address the continuing strain on the fabric of the Pants Economy? How will they protect the National Pants from the looming menace of international Powerbritches? And finally, and most controversially, do leggings really count as pants?

street (friday foto finder)

This week’s friday foto finder theme is “street.” This is a tough one for me in that I have taken many, many photos of streets over the years. After selecting a half-dozen or so of my various favorites that I had taken over the year, I instead chose this set of three photos that I had forgotten about. These were from our 2007 trip to Paris. Here is a scene that caught my attention while wondering some of the older streets of Paris, on the Ile de la Cité:

It just didn’t look like this car could possibly fit into this narrow street.

And in fact, here is about when the cars tires got jammed between the curbs, complete with much noise of squeaking rubber and revving engine.

Amazingly (to me, at least), the car did make it around that corner and down and out the street.

If you look closely, you can see from the street signs that this was Rue des Ursins. If you find it on Google maps and zoom in on the satellite view, this particular part of the street is too narrow to be seen between the buildings.

I have to say, looking at my street photos gave me some pleasant trips down memory lane. Mostly involving trips. Also, I found myself getting a medley of songs with streets in them stuck in my head. (I feel a list coming on.)

To see what other streets have been wandered for this theme, go check out Archie‘s friday foto finder blog.

6 unrelated photos

Here are 6 unrelated photos taken over the last 3 years.

From top: 1) a doorknob on a caboose 2) a roll of plastic barrier material 3) macro of a dandelion, 4) plastic bucket with ice, 5) jellyfish in the Boston aquarium, 6) a view from the roof the roof of the garage at the Boston Museum of Science.

nightmare

I was at a conference, and the family came on the trip with me this time. I was at some sort of event that involved mingling, perhaps a coffee break, and having some in-depth discussions about some aspect of the phonetics of intonation. John and Phoebe were off somewhere together, but Theo was there with me, and getting bored and impatient. I suggested he go back to the hotel, and continued my conversation.

A bit later, after the discussions had wound down, I realized that I had sent Theo, barely 4 years old, off to wander the streets of some strange big city. Of course he didn’t know how to get back to the hotel by himself. I had no idea which way he’d gone. I started to look for him, and in the flexibility of dream space, I looked on many streets, in many directions. I asked countless strangers if they had seen a little boy, walking by himself. I became convinced that I would never find him again and fell apart. Not only had I lost Theo, but it was my fault. It was through my carelessness and inattention and self-absorption. My worst fears had been realized. I cried and moaned in my panic and grief.

I woke up in the dark, at home in my bed, my heart racing. My throat felt tight as if I had indeed been shrieking. I’m pretty sure I hadn’t actually made the loud noises I remembered making, that I still heard echoing in my head, as John was there asleep next to me. I curled up towards him and let myself go back to sleep.

When I next woke up, there was light coming in under the window shades. This is never a good sign, as the alarm typically goes off at 6:00, while it is still quite dark out. Last night we’d had a power outage, and while I had correctly set the alarm on our ancient radio alarm clock, I had managed to set the time wrong. By 12 hours.

It was 7:30. Happily, there was still time to get Phoebe ready for the bus. I could take Theo to his preschool after the bus instead of before. We should have rushed, since time still tight, but I climbed into Theo’s bed and held him close, curling myself up against him, warming his cold feet. I called Phoebe down from the top bunk to snuggle, too, and we snuggled, the three of us, until the bickering over who was taking up too much space and the jabbing elbows got the better of me. I got up, got the kids up, got dressed, and started the rush to get breakfast, finish packing lunches, and get us out the door.

I should have felt more rested today from having gotten that extra sleep, but I’ve been feeling shaken by my dream all day. I know that I would never really send Theo off by himself like that. Or Phoebe either, for that matter. (Though there was that one time that Theo did wander off outside by himself, while John and I were engaged with Phoebe, arguing over a lollipop. Theo had followed some friends who had visited our house and left. Our friends noticed him following them, and walked him back. And there was a time at the beach a couple of weeks ago when Phoebe wandered off looking for shells and got disoriented in the crowds of people and umbrellas. She couldn’t find us, and we couldn’t find her, for far too many minutes.)

My dream shows me that anxiety about separation is still rooted in my mind, planted there by too many health scares and nourished by so much time spent lately trying to focus on my work and school. With so many things going on in my life and in my head, I clearly sometimes worry that I will lose hold of what is most important to me.