Why yes, I was in Texas recently. Why do you ask?
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how you can see something one way and then in the blink of an eye *flip* you see it totally differently.
Earlier this week the President of the coop sent me, the chair of the scheduling co, some proposals for next year from people she recruited. Her comments were boiled down to these are fabulous teachers who would be a huge benefit to the coop.
Okay, I’ll take a gander.
They teach exactly what I teach, in fact several of their proposals are classes I already proposed for this upcoming year.
Oh, my giddy aunt.
Yup, she’s getting blatant with her desire to replace me. LOL.
And I was pissed, I was. She and I have never gotten along, never seen eye to eye, always bumped heads.
Then a switch flipped and I thought, what if this is my chance to leave. To stop teaching. To have that time to invest in my writing.
What if I just look at the situation differently?
yup, that’s my brain, totally empty. been sick for over a week. Occasionally running a fever. This makes my brain empty. totally empty. I want to have been thinking about something, but I’m not.
I’m not even reading.
Which makes me a little stressed about getting my weekly reviews up before I leave for vacation in a week. Eek.
Seems like lots of people are up in arms about this Christmas song this year. I heard even the composers daughter has felt compelled to defend her father. How sad is that? Defending her dead father because of the way people now choose to view a song written in 1944.
It’s been suggested the song was actually written by Loesser to sing with his wife, Lynn Garland, at their housewarming party in New York City at the Navarro Hotel, to indicate to guests that it was time to leave.
It’s been viewed as a critique of drinking alcohol.
Other have suggested over the years it was a critique of a society which shunned women who spent the night willingly with their boyfriend or fiances.
And really, the lyrics can be read many ways.
In the study of history, we talk about something called temporal chauvinism. That’s where you judge the people of the past by the standards of today. A simple example is people used to bathe weekly at best, frequently once a month or less. By today’s standards, ewwww. But that was a norm then.
So when I look at the lyrics to this song, and I think 1944, I hear a woman who actually wants to stay but is afraid of what society will say about her if she does what she wants. She’s looking for any excuse to stay. And the man, a problem solver, is giving her many options to choose from.
Think of the privilege we women now enjoy that we can interpret the lyrics as something bad because spending the night with a man is a choice we can freely make.
In the last pages of one my of favorite Agatha Christie books, The Secret of Chimneys, one of my favorite A.C. characters, Anthony Cade, says “My belief in the Brotherhood of man died the day I arrived in London last week, when I observed the people standing in a Tube train resolutely refuse to move up and make room for those who entered.”
We took the tube a lot in London. It gets you around quite quickly and the schedule is so functional, 2, 3, 4, four minutes for the next train beats standing in the rain for 25 waiting on a bus. LOL.
It was often crowded but only once did I have to force people to move so there would be room for the kiddo and I.
More importantly, I watched as three perfect strangers extended their hands to keep a man from falling over backwards and landing on the floor, and he was going down hard.
The Brotherhood of man is not dead. It just needs to be reminded every once in a while that we are all part of the same Brotherhood.
I only took my kindle to London, not my laptop. Why does that matter? It kind of plays a crucial role in this story. See Amazon makes everything “smart.” For example when I wanted to shop Old Navy’s online Black Friday sale, I couldn’t. I was in the UK and wanting to ship to a US address. Error, Error, danger, danger. Whatevs. I didn’t really need new clothes anyway.
But while we were gone the North Sentinel Island situation occurred. My first glimmer was posts on FB, by people I know. Their commentary was bizarre. Talking about how we’d being going to war now and Trump would use this as a means to stop immigration. I kept trying to click on the news article links to figure out what the bleep they were talking about, but….smart kindle. I kept getting denial errors, you are not in this zone.
Eventually BBC 4 filled me in. But in the mean time I had to wonder.
Which made me think about people who get all their news scrolling on FB. Is this what they think is going on in the world? Holy crap. No wonder everyone is so afraid all the time and thinking the worst of everyone else.
And second thought line was, is that really what people got out of that situation. Yikes. We were clearly not reading the same news. Makes me want to stop reading all American news outlets.
What do you think? If you read both American and European news outlets, do you think America spins everything to be tragic and traumatic and salacious?
Happy Thanksgiving to anyone in the US of A. We’re not particularly united these days as a people or as a Nation but that is way more than I am prepared to tackle on this blog.
Instead I want to discuss something more serious. Turkey. Why do we insist upon eating Turkey for Thanksgiving?
It it the most boring meat on the planet. Why do you think you have to have stuffing, gravy, and cranberry sauce to go with it? Turkey is the white bread of meat. No taste of it’s own. And really, I have NEVER had a turkey that wasn’t dry. Granted they don’t all grow in your mouth like my grandmother’s did but still…
What are we even celebrating? Oooh, food. Most of us don’t need a banquet of food to stave off starvation. We need a banquet of diet before we keel over under our extra poundage.
This year I am boycotting Thanksgiving. In fact, I am going back to where it all started to begin a thorough investigation into the insanity that is this so called holiday.
Has the penny dropped yet? I’m on vaca. In London. My list is less ambitious than the average Thanksgiving dinner.
London Symphony Orchestra, Mousetrap in West End, Harry Potter Studio Tour, proper high tea, Churchill’s war rooms, British Museum, that underground roman museum of ruins, the name escapes me right now (keeping the kiddo happy). Anything else we get done will be gravy. So to speak.
A few weeks ago I posted about my kiddo being an awesome human during his belt test and how he thought he would get marked down for helping several people rather than maintaining attention.
Results came back. He passed.
So technically he was eligible for the weapons class but he still had to get approval from sensei that he was meeting the other requirements.
He got it. Started weapons class the next week. Really good class taught by the black belt who has scored every one of his tests. Familiarity helps the kiddo adjust easier, so a familiar teacher makes for a positive class start. As I watch the class I realize not only is he lowest belt in the class, he is the only one at that level. Hrm….
Spring forward 24 hours to new belt awards.
It’s a really boring process. Call up kid by name. Bow to sensei, bow to sempi, take off belt, get new belt put on, bow to sensei, bow to sempi, bow to audience. Audience claps. Repeat.
When they call up the kiddo the sempi breaks the process to talk about what an amazing job the kiddo did on the belt test. He didn’t do that for any of the other belts awarded (12 or so).
I think the kiddo only got into weapons because he helped the other kids on the belt test.
Makes a mom proud.
Side note: they were learning drops. he was sparring with a girl. Anyway, he was so stinking careful with her, she just kept backing out of the hold. I asked him about it later and he was like, “Mom, she’s half my size. I didn’t want to break her.” LOL Oh the things he’s learning about adapting in the world when you’re going to be six foot seven like your Dad.