feminism and a happy marriage

There’s simply something wholesome about having a trusty, reliable sexual partner with whom I share a feisty physiological chemistry as well as a stimulating intellectual rapport. I’m certain that I am a better person and that I have a happier life coupled with my chosen mate than I would have alone or with a string of uncommitted partners. That is to say, even with all the trials and tribulations of a long-term, intimate relationship with another human being, I wouldn’t choose to live my life any other way. Marriage for me is a fulfilling, wholly worthwhile endeavor, much as I imagine having and raising children would be…

And what’s all this got to do with feminism? Well, for starters, there was that whole coverture thing, where women were essentially non-persons under the law by virtue of marriage. And although that whole mess is in the past and it seems long ago, it was only a generation ago that marital rape was recognized as a crime. These things and far too many others to mention demonstrate that marriage has historically functioned as a mechanism of female subordination, and that’s a pretty heinous stigma for an institution to carry. And then there’s the whole state-denial-of-homosexual-marriage can-of-worms. (Which, when I get into it becomes increasingly complex since my brand of feminism is one that is more gender-neutral/humanist, recognizing the humanity of people as people irrespective of their gender or sexuality.) Yet, although a thoughtful, free-thinking spirit such as myself might therefore be weary of the institution of marriage, I find myself happily married. How’s that?

My marriage brings contentedness, peace, and gratitude into my life even as it presents challenges. Largely, they are challenges that teach me virtues such as patience, empathy, and forgiveness, which I’m pleased to learn. It is because my marriage is whatever my husband and I make it – not what the state or the dominant culture says it ought to be – that we’ve been able to cultivate a verdant companionship.

After 5 years of marriage, I remain grateful for my married life, and confident that this relationship will travel far with me on my path through life. I anticipate growing our family, extending this bond we’ve created in the natural way, and I eagerly await the prospect of forging similarly loving, deep connections with my children – rife with their own socio-cultural complications as they may be.

So it goes that I can remain ardently feminist and hold nuanced views concerning marriage and companionship, even while willingly and happily participating in that conjugal institution that has plauged womankind for so many millenia.

in the throes of a new semester

Now that this semester is really and truly underway, I find myself slipping back into old habits: not sleeping enough and all but abdicating my chores, relying instead on Hubby to pick up the slack around the house and caffeine to keep me going when I’ve watched the sun and moon both rise and set since I’ve known slumber.

I’m trying so very hard to stay on top of all my school work, which is pleasantly challenging this semester. (Although an abrupt change of pace from the chill-out schedule of last semester.) And although I gripe about the effort it requires, this is largely because of the mental energy expended on my wage-earning work. I easily could do my paralegal job and do it well, and I could easily be the most studious student my professors have ever known, but I cannot do them both simultaneously to the very best of my ability. Inevitably one suffers, and generally it is school because by the time I get off work I simply no longer possess the mental energy to do my school work as well as I conceivably could.

Even still, I’m doing the best I can, which is not only all that I can do but also more than sufficient, as this evening’s pol sci class demonstrated. (Seeing as how hardly another soul in the room seems to comprehend the concept of a critical analysis as opposed to a summary.)

Sure I’m pushing it, but I’ve done this juggling act before so I’ll do it again, all the while taking comfort in the fact that in time this, too, shall pass.

And blessed will be the day when my office job is one on campus, and all of my mental energies will be devoted to scholastic endeavors of some stripe.

the kitchen is where the heart is

Apparently, the Chinese believe that the heart of the family resides in the kitchen.

I like that idea. In my mind the kitchen can easily be likened to the heart of a family; it is where vital nutrients are prepared and distributed to the family’s members, in a similar way that the heart prepares and sends blood throughout the body. The metaphor also fits nicely with our allegorical affiliation of the heart with affection, for often food made at home in the kitchen is crafted with love.

Certainly, for many modern homes this might not so much be the case. Or at least, might not have been the case before the economy went sour. It now seems that folks are cooking at home more and more, which to me seems like nothing but an improvement. There’s a lot to be said for knowing how to prepare healthy, delicious food for yourself, as self-reliance generally tends to be satisfying. But even more satisfaction can be gained from providing scrumptious sustenance to those you love. Unfortunately, many of my generation have not been instructed in the culinary arts, having come of age in the era of Mc-kids meals, pizza-delivery, and Grizzlebee’s take-out. So perhaps – if more people learn to cook and begin to derive that uniquely satisfying sort of gratification of feeding one’s family – it will be one good thing to come of the economic crisis.

For me and my family, we’ll go on happily in our usual way of cooking regularly and well, and the heart of the family shall go on residing in the kitchen just like the Chinese myth says.

why feminism?

I can’t claim authorship of the following; tis something I came across long ago and tucked away on a scrap of paper that I found again recently. The author is, unfortunately, unknown to me. So if anyone out there on the www knows where credit is due for this inspiring little snippet, please do share.

I claim to be a feminist because “women’s work” is never done and is underpaid or unpaid or boring or repetitious; because what we look like is more important than what we do or what we’re capable of; because our representation in government is wholly disproportional to our numbers in the population; because if we get beaten we must have provoked it and if we raise our voices we’re nagging bitches; because if we enjoy sex we’re nymphos and if we don’t we are frigid and if we get raped it’s our own fault; because if we ask too many questions we’re pushy and/or neurotic; because if we want to get married we’re out to trap a man and if we don’t we’re unnatural; because if we expect childcare we’re selfish; because if we stand up for our rights we’re aggressive and “unfeminine” and if we don’t we’re typical weak females; and because we still can’t get adequate, safe contraceptives and if we can’t cope or don’t want a pregnancy we’re made to feel guilty about aboriton, while men can walk on the moon and rule the most powerful nation on the planet.

another year over, another year begun

I’ve had the absolutely most joyous holiday season in recent memory this year. From the solstice thru to the new year, I’ve enjoyed many scrumptious meals and happy visits with friends and family. Although there wasn’t much done in the way of gifting, we ate well and enjoyed good company, which was plenty enough for me.

And now all of that festivity and merry-making is over and done. Back to the work-a-day, school-juggling, merry-go-round that has become the norm for my life. Even still, I’m eager to discover what changes 2009 holds in store.

the shortest day of the year

And I spent it in the kitchen.

On this Winter Solstice, I revived baking Sundays with a vengeance, after a lapse of several weeks (with a few Saturday and/or Friday baking days thrown in to the mix) and I successfully knocked out a majority of my Christmas gifts in one fell swoop, without the stress of a retail store beyond the usual weekly trip to the grocers. (Which is, admittedly, more crowded and crazy than usual.)

For only about $20 total, I created a scrumptious assortment of baked goods which will be given as gifts at my office. Everyone there will receive a bag full of apple-cinnamon muffins, sugar cookies with red-and-green sprinkles, and chocolate-chip-oatmeal cookies, all baked carefully from scratch with my sweat and love.

I’m really quite impressed with the results of this day’s work. As it turns out, butter selection is important when it comes to baking extra special treats. So I invested in a $8/lb stick of butter and took care to implement the proper method, with excellent treats to show for my time and money. I’ve got photos- although they don’t do these treats justice – but I’m too tired to post them. Perhaps later…

On Saturday we were able to attend hubby’s maternal-family Christmas gathering, which was quite lovely. Certainly, it was that much easier to appreciate knowing in the back of my mind that we likely won’t be able to make the trip home (from wherever we may be) to do it again next year. Hopefully by 2010 we’ll be settled enough to do so, but next year isn’t as likely. Again, I’ve photos, but my butt is dragging and the bed calls to me much more loudly than the digital-photo file-transfer project.

As is always the case, there’s much more I would have liked to accomplish this weekend, but there was simply not enough time in which to do it all. There are many blog topics stewing in my mind, so perhaps soon we’ll see a flurry of new posts.

For now, however, ’tis time for bed.

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Edited to add:

whole wheat apple cinnamon muffins

sugar cookies

oatmeal chocolate chip cookies

snow, egg pie, and other random occurrences

Last week we had a record-breaking early snow:

(Rather obviously, the snow was record breaking because of the date, not because of the amount of accumulation.)

‘Twas a welcome change of pace, although I wish Mother Nature would have timed this gift better so that I might have a White Christmas. In all of my 25 years I’ve never experienced such a thing…

In other news, I’ve discovered the simplicity and versatility of quiche. I’m not quire sure how it is that I have never before thought to attempt this easy, satisfying dish, but somehow I failed in this regard until last weekend. I had company but had a morning obligation and still wanted my guests to have something yummy to eat upon waking, and so it went that I experimented with my first quiche (bacon and swiss). It was a success, and so this week I tried another (bacon and cheddar with onion), which was also a success. The great thing about a quiche is that it reheats without sacrificing any scrumptiousness. Versatility also makes quiche especially appealing. And so I think I’ve finally found a feasible breakfast food for my compulsive-BurgerKing–breakfast-eating Hubby that’s not cereal. Yay for us both for this discovery!

On Sunday I hennaed my long overdue-for-a-dye-job hair, and in so doing banished my unsightly mousy brown-and-increasingly-silver roots. Blessed be the natural dye of Lawsonia inermis!

Other than that, I’ve been rather lazy. With the semester over and done with, and my grad school applications all sent off, I’m left without too much to worry about at present. We’re set to have a slim holiday, what with our $455 car tag renewal fee due at the end of the month, but in this economic climate we’re hardly the only family who won’t be having an extravagant Christmas. And truly I couldn’t ask for anything more than an abundance of quality time relaxing with family, which is precisely what I know I shall receive.

Work continues to be horrible, but I’ve resigned myself to suck it up and stick it out, with the knowledge that only my own perspective can make the situation any more or less bearable: it is what it is, and I must either cope or not. Seeing as how I’m not the sort to give up so easily, I’ll continue striving to cope. After all, in a few short months I’ll be preparing to begin a new life, and soon enough this will all be water under the bridge.

So for the time being I’ll take it slow and easy, breathe deep, and do my best to relax and enjoy the wonders of the season.

heaven knows I’m miserable at work

I’ve been having a terrible time at work lately. Absolutely awful. The attorney I am not assigned to work for is devoid of even an iota of management skill and it is making my work life a living hell. I’m almost convinced that she is physically incapable of  giving a staff member an ounce of consideration, trust, or appreciation. (All of which, astute readers will note, are essential for successfully running a small office.)

I’ve dealt with this for over four years. I have survived it by consistently going above and beyond the call of duty and always being pleasant and cheerful, giving no one any reason to complain about my performance or question my dedication to a job well done. Nevertheless, this woman persists in doing precisely that. Nothing is ever good enough for her. Despite the fact that I am admittedly the brightest, most conscientious, punctual, and productive staff member that firm has ever employed, I am met with nothing but incessant criticism and nagging.

For the most part her direct interference with my duties had been minimal since the last time I made a major fuss about it, making her bad attitude easier to brush off. But here lately she has insinuated herself into my daily activities to an extent that is becoming more and more difficult to ignore. And this time, even my boss’s efforts to intervene and diffuse the animosity engendered by this woman’s actions has had little effect. It seems I cannot go into my office anymore without finding a bitchy nonsense note from her or get through a week without her pulling some random, petty, narcissistic power play, complete with accusatory drama. I don’t know if she’s on edge because of the economy and the fact that business isn’t great, or because there is unhappiness in her personal life, but I am loosing sight of my former coping mechanisms and I feel that I need counseling to deal with her negativity and pessimism.

I told myself that I would tough it out, that I would stay in this job until I was all set to move away to bigger and better things, that job loyalty was too valuable on one’s resume. And it is possible for me to derive some semblance of satisfaction out of my job from the fact that my actual boss – the attorney who I was hired to assist – is genuinely and measurably appreciative of my diligent work and readily acknowledges that I help her to more effectively practice law. Still, that knowledge does little to abate the stress that permeates my working hours and it is of little comfort in the face of constant demoralization.

I fantasize about baking, of days getting lost in clouds of flour, and of abandoning this sinking ship early. In my mind it seems that perhaps my leaving while still in town might help that mad woman to realize that she will never be as successful as she could be if she fails to cultivate effective management skills. But this isn’t the case, and intellectually I know it to be so. She’s too set in her ways to change.

That, and I don’t think we could make ends meet with two of us in the restaurant industry. Then again, I know that other people do it. And I know that we will not have this income to depend on next year. I’m hopeful that I will receive a stipend, indeed, but it will not be a $34,000 stipend. And although I’m also hopeful that Obama will rescue the nation from careening into another Great Depression, I fear that it is inevitable that we adjust to leaner times.

If things do not improve at the office soon, however, it might be time for a serious discussion with Hubby…

one day I won’t live here anymore

Its only a matter of months before I’ll (hopefully) be moving on to a new life in a new place, even though I don’t yet know what that life will be or where I’ll be living it. The decision may be out of my hands, but the change is inevitable.

And so, on a beauteous autumn morning such as this, I find myself to be saddened at the thought of not being in this place at this time next year. Where will I be when the earth’s tilt causes the sun to lay low in the Southern sky? Who will be in this house to watch the sunlight and shadows dance across the floor in the back of the house? And when spring comes once again, and the sun’s rays stop shining directly in through the bedroom windows as our planet’s tilt moves our star higher into the sky, will there be anyone here to appreciate that subtle reminder of life’s delicate rhythm?

I suppose I’m waxing nostalgic because of my absence this summer; I’m still feeling appreciative and geniunely pleased by the little pleasures life has to offer. The knowledge that my time in this place is limited – not only this house where I’ve lived for two years, but this town that has been my home ‘lo these past nine years- and that all the comforts bred of familiarity must be left behind lends to a bittersweet feeling, a mixture of the anticipation of future joys and the melancholy of leaving the past behind.

capturing time in the kitchen

I just spent 4½ hours straight working in my kitchen.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining.* I’m just taking note.

Those four-plus hours are exclusive of the work I did in the kitchen this morning when I put on coffee and toasted bagels, or the 20 minutes I spent prepping the yeast rolls mid-afternoon. All in all, I’ve probably spent closer to six hours in the kitchen today.

That’s almost as many hours as I put in at the law firm on a typical weekday on the chill-out schedule. And it’s important here to note that my hours in the kitchen have not been artificially inflated by the Thanksgiving holiday; its not unusual for me to do a lot of cooking several weekends a month.

I’ve this crazy idea to track the time I spent in the kitchen in a week, and in a month. It will be interesting to then determine the cost of my second shift labor, at both the rate I effectively earn hourly at my current salary, as well as the rate at which my “Paralegal” time is billed out by my office.

I believe that this information will be a handy tidbit to keep in mind for future feminist discussions, either within the academy or elsewhere.
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* I would be hard pressed to complain, considering the results of my labor: a quart of savory beef and barley stew, a dozen clover leaf rolls, a hearty country sourdough loaf, a gallon of Southern-style sweet tea, two pomegranate-almond loaves, and a batch each of veggie broth and beef broth.