I’m home today in jammies sweating out a bad cold. My son brought it to me as a gift back from his dorm. Of course, *he* merely sniffed a little for a few days. I am awash in self-pity. Also, afraid the coffee didn’t take… I’m going back to bed.
Tennessee is a strongly Republican state, and I *know* (I’ve seen the hard numbers) that Knoxville is too. Strangely, though, every group I hang out with seems to be 100% Democrat. And how I do love them.
But I marvel at how often my friends still manage to encounter so many Republicans, while I still manage not to. A favorite theme at recent gatherings has been the extreme presumption of “those people” (Republicans) who boorishly assume my friends are also Republicans. My friends are genuinely indignant, but I can’t tell if it’s because they are offended by people who make assumptions, or offended for being mistaken for something as vile as a Republican.
The irony here is that in the twenty-something years I’ve spent mostly in the company of left-ish people, present company included, most of them have been as exactly as presumptuous about me and my own political affiliation.
I suspect, therefore, that making assumptions about people, even discriminating against people, is not so much partisan as it is a human condition.
To be fair, I do look, walk and quack very much like a Democrat. I also understand that being included in these conversations is deeply complimentary, as my pureblooded friends clearly feel such an affinity for me that they consider me one of their own race.
But it’s also a little disturbing to think that anyone’s approval of me, for any reason, also informs them that I can’t possibly bear any of the enemy’s genetic material. Sadly though, I do.
My friends’ own distress at being oppressed by Republicans is clearly not so terrible that they can’t also enjoy the conviviality of ranting about it over lunch. Not me. I’m much happier ranting about single issues than I am about entire groups of people.
Well. Okay. Unless they’re from The Institution that Shall Not be Named. I never said it was about virtue on my part. It’s more an irrational fear of suddenly finding myself among those being crucified.
Speaking of which. I also enjoy a good rant about religion. That’s very weird, I’ve just realized. Could it be that our country actually is much more religiously tolerant than it is politically tolerant? That’s a test question. I don’t know the answer. What do you think?
It was a good weekend chez Almostgotit.
The neighbors have all received my newsletter, and there have been no death threats. A few probably have concluded I’m dangerous and should be left alone (hurray) while a few others have called me on the phone to say “bravo.”
One even brought me some flowers.
Almostgotit made great strides in sorting out some things in the attic, getting rid of several piles, and finally opening the stupid box for her stupid new computer and even putting the stupid thing all together (NB friend Betsy!!)
The rest of the family, feeling a little less ambitious, nonetheless also seemed to have a pleasantly relaxing couple of days.
The New College Student, too busy lately even to trim his own toenails apparently, came home and spent virtually all of his time like this.
The 12-yr-old , whose official weekend chore is to clean the bathroom, found interesting things to do with the bathroom mirror instead .
Cat #1 helped make the beds in her own way.
The dog (a purebred Rhodesian FridgeSnack, FYI) carried his blanket around all weekend, finding many comfortable places to sleep as well.
And I did tell all y’all, did I not, that the adults have a lovely new mattress for weekend sleeping, as well?
Life, in other words, is pretty good.
Just go read this post over at Working Girl. Right now, because the contest she mentions ends TODAY.
In one of my stupider moments, I agreed to be a block representative for our homeowner’s association. No one else would do it, and mostly all I’ve had to do is go to very boring meetings.
But a few days ago, a neighbor began circulating a petition for our block of homeowners to secede from the rest of the neighborhood. Turns out this man is not in fact a homeowner, has never been to a neighborhood meeting, never shown at work parties, never contributed money, and never bothered to get any of his facts straight.
Most of us had never even met him before,either. I spoke to him at length, could get nothing out of the whiny little man that made any sense, and concluded he couldn’t do much harm.
I was wrong.
As the day progressed, I became increasingly amazed at how much havoc one person could cause. He brilliantly found the people who were most ready to take offense, most likely to listen to his irrational arguments and half-truths, most eager to hear and even help him spread rumors of who was insulting whom, and which group had conspired against which other.
I pondered an appropriate response, and finally sent around a letter. I didn’t mention the man or his petition, only re-introduced myself. Said I was available. Mentioned some great things about both our block AND our neighborhood. All better now, right?
Wrong again.
The man came to my door. “Everyone” had told him to talk to me. “Everyone” demanded $500 to fix a vague something he could provide no further details about. But he had “letters,” he said. He invited me to come up to his house to listen to the 17 angry messages on his answering machine (I declined.) The “11 people” who first asked him to be their spokesman? Too afraid to tell anyone their names because of what might happen to them if they do.
Oh. Bloody. Hell.
After about the tenth round of “everyone is pissed off” I finally used his name very deliberately (own it YOURSELF, jerk-face, and no more of this “everyone” crap) and said X, *you* are pissing *me* off, and I think we’re done talking. He was taken aback, but quickly rallied and triumphantly declared that now he would add “The NEIGHBORHOOD says our block is pissing them off!!!!” to his list of grievances he would be reporting back to “everyone.”
And darned if he didn’t, the little cockroach, wreaking even more havoc.
The worst was the woman who called me in full attack mode. I was so dumb-founded by her unrelenting nastiness that I couldn’t even hang up on her. I had a relationship with this woman. She’s a little silly, sure, but she’s also all alone so I’ve taken the time to tour her silly little garden, coo over her silly little dog.
In the wake of all this drama, for the past several days I have worked almost non-stop at researching and compiling a handy and fact-filled “Neighborhood Q&A.” (AKA “Chill, yo.”)
I’ve rewritten nearly every word. I’ve shortened, sharpened, considered and reconsidered. I’ve read bits aloud to myself. I’ve moved large pieces back and forth, deleted them, rewritten them. It seems a little obsessive, but also seemed truly necessary. Writing it out has settled and refocused me. I feel more like the words are making me than I them. They have been my best friends. They’ve put me back together, held me up and re-energized me.
They are strong, true, simple, tough words now (also a tiny bit funny) and they are finally done. 13 pages, 40 copies. Attached to 40 copies of the neighborhood bylaws.
It goes in all their boxes tomorrow. And then? To hell with it. My neighbors are either going to knock it off or I am going to resign. We’re going to get THIS failure over with as fast as possible.
photo: Terry Shaw, |
What a coincidence. The Knoxville News-Sentinel printed an article today about Knoxville’s Career Closet , thus doing almost all of my planned blogging work for me.
A couple of weeks ago, I helped my friend and colleague Andy take his deceased wife’s hundreds of beautiful and contemporary career clothes to the Career Closet so that they could be used by unemployed women who are interviewing for jobs.
In fact, that’s Joy’s red blazer hanging on the rack to the right.
To be eligible for an outfit or two from the Career Closet, women must first complete a basic job training course through an organization such as the Tennessee Career Center.
Donating to the Career Closet was a win-win-win. Andy and his son now know that Joy’s clothes will be deeply appreciated and used. A couple dozen women (at least) will have gorgeous new business outfits to wear to their interviews. A number of retired folks who work at the Career Closet will see their own efforts benefitting more people. Andy will have a large tax deduction this year which will help off-set the sudden loss of his wife’s income stream. And I was able to do one small but useful thing to help this family that I love.
A quick Google search shows that Knoxville is not the only city with a “Career Closet” program that provides women with business attire and other assistance in landing a much-needed job.
How about cleaning your own closet this weekend, and giving another woman a career hands-up when you do?
