A Woman's Place

Thought for the day:  For most of history, Anonymous was a woman.  [Virginia Woolf]

Know what today is...? Give up?

It's International Women's Day. (Yeah... really!)

The tradition started in 1910, but its roots were based in socialism, so for many years, only places like Russia and Eastern Europe paid any attention to it. That is, until 1977, when the U.N. finally climbed aboard, and officially proclaimed March 8 to thereafter be known as
International Women's Day.


So where's my damned cake?




A woman is like a teabag: you can't tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.  [Eleanor Roosevelt]

Okay, no cake to go with my tea. (For now.) Nonetheless, I'll honor the day by telling you a little something about a little-known kick-ass American woman who deserves a spot in our history books.

Okay, quick: Who was the first woman in American history to run for national office?

If you said 1984 V.P. candidate Geraldine Ferraro...

you would be...

 ( Ding-Ding-Ding!) wrong.

She was the first to be nominated by a major party, but would you believe the first woman, who actually ran for President, did so fifty years before women were even granted the right to vote?

I kid you not. That lady had some serious kinda chutzpah.

Yep, her name was Victoria Woodhull, and in 1872, the Equal Rights Party nominated her as its presidential candidate. Equal rights is exactly what she believed in, too... for women, for blacks, and for the working class.A year earlier, she became the first woman in history to appear before the House Judiciary Committee, where she delivered an impassioned and articulate argument for women's suffrage. And she had other radical outside-the-box ideas, too, such as an eight-hour workday, graduated income tax, social welfare programs, and profit-sharing. Not exactly mainstream thinking for her day.

In 1870, before she ran for office, she was the first woman to open a Wall Street brokerage firm. Made a boatload of money, too, some of which she used to become the first woman to found a weekly newspaper. The purpose of the paper was to support her run for office, and its primary interest was feminism. During its six years of publication, the paper covered such taboo topics as sex education, free love, women's suffrage, short skirts, spiritualism, vegetarianism, and licensed prostitution.

I used to be Snow White, and then I drifted. [Mae West]

Uh, yeah, I did say free love. Not an orgy-filled, spouse-swapping kind of free love, mind you, although by the way she was treated by many people of her time, you would have thought that's exactly what she was espousing. What she believed in was a woman's right to marry, divorce and bear children as she saw fit... without governmental interference.

At right is a Thomas Nast caricature of Woodhull, depicting her as Mrs. Satan. She's holding a sign that says, Be saved by FREE LOVE, and behind her is a woman, laden with children and a drunken husband. In the caption, the woman tells Mrs. Satan, I'd rather travel the hardest path of matrimony than follow your footsteps. 

See? Not even the women of Woodhull's day supported her ideas. Not that it mattered... they couldn't vote.

Some people think having large breasts makes a woman stupid. Actually, it's quite the opposite: a woman having large breasts makes men stupid.  [Rita Ruder]

Oh, there's a lot more to the story of Victoria Woodhull... like her dabbling in magnetic healing and spiritualism; her friendship with Cornelius Vanderbilt; and why she was thrown into jail two days before the 1872 election... on obscenity charges.

But I said I was only gonna tell you a little something about Ms. Woodhull, so suffice it to say, she didn't receive a single electoral vote. Following the election, she said, The truth is that I am too many years ahead of this age and the exalted views and objects of humanitarianism can scarcely be grasped as yet by the unenlightened mind of the average man. 

Okay, so I never said she was humble. But she was right. Many of the reforms she campaigned for, considered extreme and controversial in her time, later came to pass. By the way, know who her running mate was? Frederick Douglass... the first black man nominated for national office.

How do you know if it's time to wash the dishes and clean your house? Look inside your pants. If you see a penis in there, it's not time.  [Jo Brand]

Well, it's not time for me to wash the dishes and clean house, either. Not yet. It's time to bake myself a damned cake. I am woman; hear me roar!

A woman should always know her place. Yep, by golly, a woman's place is in the House... and the Senate... and maybe someday...  the White House.

So on this day, International Women's Day, let us raise a glass to all those wonderful women worldwide, both known and unknown, who spent (and continue to spend) their lives striving to make this world a better place, and who exemplify these words by Maya Angelou: ... you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands. You need to be able to throw something back.

I always wanted to be somebody, but now I realize I should have been more specific.  [Lily Tomlin]

             Oh, yeah... a timely reminder: Daylight Savings Time returns this weekend.

                                 Okay, one final thing before putting this post to bed...

Tiny Harmonies bloghop kicks off today. Represented by the ultra-sweet marshmallow peep to the left, this hop is yet another brainchild of the ultra-sweet Suze.

The idea is for participants to write a haiku every Friday for the next few weeks, based on a prompt she will provide. This week, the prompt consists of a single word:  origin. I decided to tie it in with the subject of my post.

With my deepest apologies to anyone who is actually good at these things, here is my tiny offering:

                                         Brazen seeds of thought,
                                         Sown now, bereft of sunshine,
                                         Shall bloom in due time.

                             Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

[Images come from Wikipedia, icanhascheezburger, and... Suze.]

I Yam Not THAT Hungry

Thought for the day:  How is it that a toddler can be so picky and slow when it comes to eating a nutritious dinner, and yet so fast at shoving every disgusting thing he finds on the ground into his mouth?

I'm feeling a little lazy today. Why should today be any different? So instead of starting an entirely new post from scratch, I'm gonna give an old one an update, and rerun it. It first ran in July of 2011 as I Am What I Eat? How Disgustng!

Even though I'm making some changes here, I'll do my very best to keep it as disgusting as it was before...

***

Have you ever noticed that the words turtle, terrapin, and tortoise seem to be used almost interchangeably? So I couldn't help but wonder ... what's the difference between them? Well, I can tell you right now, according to the definition of terrapin I found, there's absolutely no need for that particular word in my vocabulary. No sirree, and here's why. Turtle is a generic term, so you can properly use it to refer to any of those adorable shelled reptiles, whether they live on the land or in the water.  A tortoise is a turtle, and though the term can be used to denote any turtle, it refers especially to a land turtle. But terrapin is defined as any of North America's edible water turtles. Oh, no, no, no, no, no.  I don't know about you, but as far as I'm concerned, there is no such thing as an edible turtle. So, I will not be using that word again anytime soon.

And yeah, I know some of you may disagree. Some of you may consider turtles a wonderful delicacy. After all, even though I think calves are absolutely adorable and have the most beautiful eyes, when driving past a field of them, I may or may not have said a time or two, "Oh, look at all the veals!"

I know. Crass.

But if you think about it, we humans eat some pretty strange things. Like raw oysters. I mean, yeah, I happen to love them, but just think about the first guy... and you know it was a guy...  who opened one of them and decided it looked good enough to eat?

You must admit. It doesn't look very appetizing.

OK, let's take a look at some of the weird foods people eat around the world, shall we?

• In Sardinia, people eat something called casu marzu, which is cheese riddled with insect larvae. Appropriately enough, it is also called maggot cheese. Yum, huh?
• In Indonesia, fried monkey toes are considered a delicacy.
• In Hungary, a favorite dish is comprised of fresh pig blood and scrambled eggs.
• Talking about blood, in Sweden, blood dumplings are made with flour and reindeer blood, and the Polish have czarnina, a soup whose not-so-secret ingredient is duck blood.
• Ever hear of head cheese? It looks like an innocuous mish-mash of jellied lunch meat, and can be found in many delis.  This is what it looks like when you buy it.

And if you've got the stomach to watch, THIS is what it takes to make it:

• Americans traditionally eat some pretty weird stuff, too. How about scrapple, which is allegedly made from every part of the pig but its oink? I also read that some people in the South eat squirrel brains, although I can't say I've ever seen any of my neighbors so indulge, and I don't plan to serve them at our next dinner party, either.
• In Eastern Europe, there's a dish called p'tcha which is a translucent jello made from calves' feet. 
• Oh, and while we're talking about feet, let's not forget pickled pig and cow feet. (There are two jars of pig feet lurking in my pantry right now. For Smarticus, that is. You don't think I'd eat them, do ya?)
• In France, they eat calf's head; in Slovenia, they eat stewed dormice; in Italy, they eat cibreo, which is cock's combs; and in Thailand, they eat rats.
• You've heard of Chinese birds nest soup? It is literally made from swifts' nests, and lest you think those nests are made of twigs and grass, they aren't. They're mostly made of saliva.
• In the Philippines, balut answers the age-old chicken-or-the-egg question. This dish is made of fertilized eggs, which are cooked just before they hatch, so when you eat it, you get both the chicken (or duck) AND the egg.  
• One of  Korea's favorite dishes is sannakji. Octopus. No big deal, you say? You've eaten octopus many times, you say?  How many times have you eaten it while it was still squirming on your plate? That's right. This dish is reeeeeeally fresh. While it's still alive, the octopus is cut into pieces and sprinkled with sesame oil, and the tentacles are STILL MOVING when diners pop it into their mouths. It poses quite a challenge, too, because those little suction cups on the tentacles stick to whatever surface they touch. So the diner has to pry his dinner from his chopsticks, and once it's in his mouth,  the tentacles latch onto his teeth, his tongue, and the roof of his mouth. Oh, and for the really brave of heart, the whole darned thing can be popped into one's mouth, while still alive: 

• And then, there's the national dish of Scotland. Haggis. This is a sausage-like dish which contains what they call the pluck of a sheep: its heart, liver, and lungs. (Takes a bit of pluck to eat it, too!) When all the ingredients are combined, they're traditionally sewn into the sheep's stomach for cooking, with the windpipe hanging over the side of the pot. Modern recipes, however, may call for tongue instead of lung, and sausage casing instead of sheep's stomach. 
• This love-it or hate-it food comes to us from the UK:  

Marmite is a dark brown spread made from brewery yeast by-products. I first heard about it through the blogosphere,  and even bought some from a local British specialty store to try. The shop's owner waxed poetic about this stuff, but she did warn me that a very thin coat of it would do me. Indeed. Although British children pretty much eat Marmite from the time they're weaned, I must say, even a very thin coating of it delivered a powerhouse punch of taste to my poor unindoctrinated palate. Not exactly yeasty. A little salty. Just a strong strong taste unlike anything I've ever had before. It's chock full of B vitamins, and very nutritious, so I'll probably try it again, but no rush. I have plenty of time. Even after opening, it'll last for years at room temperature. (Hmm, it's been almost two years since I tried it... I might be ready to have another go at it.)

In closing on this whole weird foods of the world idea, I'll let these following pictures speak for themselves:

 bugs on a stick

fried spiders, anyone?

So, what's all this mean? It means there's simply no accounting for taste. People like what they like, and hate what they hate. Just because I tried chocolate-covered ants when I was a kid (they're crunchy) doesn't mean I'd ever choose them over a Hershey bar. Just because I ate snake once (it really DOES taste like chicken) doesn't mean I ever want to eat it again. And just because most of the world loves chocolate doesn't make you wrong if you hate it.

And here we go: Rejection from any given agent or publisher doesn't mean your writing stinks. All it means is you haven't submitted it to the person with the perfect palate for it yet. The work of any creative person  is every bit as susceptible to personal taste as a still-moving chunk of octopus or jar of pickled pigs feet. I'll betcha even Michelangelo had his detractors. (the artist, not the ninja turtle)

                                So, what's the strangest thing you've ever eaten?

                            Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Friends For All Time

Thought for the day:  Your time is your life. That is why the greatest gift you can give someone is your time.  [Rich Warren]

Here we are. It's that time... time for the much-anticipated Back from the Future bloghop, the brainchild of those three blogging beauties Suze, Nicki, and Mary, who were obviously determined to make us think. Thanks, ladies. It was quite a challenge, but it was also fun.

Okay, so here's the set-up:

You're up before dawn on a Saturday when the doorbell rings. You haven't brewed your coffee so you wonder if you imagined the sound. Plonking the half-filled carafe in the sink, you go to the front door and cautiously swing it open. No one there. As you cast your eyes to the ground, you see a parcel addressed to you... from you.

You scoop it up and haul it inside, sensing something legitimate despite the extreme oddness of the situation. Carefully, you pry it open. Inside is a shoebox — sent from ten years in the future — and it's filled with items you have sent yourself.

What's in it?

(See. I told ya it was thought-provoking.) And here's where my thoughts led ...

I slowly lift the lid, and tentatively touch the rose lying at the top of the box to see if it's real. When I stroke the velvety petal, it releases a heady sweet scent.

My hand shakes as I pick up the flower, and uncover a fading photo of Gale and me from my wedding day. We're slightly tipsy, and smiling from ear to ear. She's holding a bouquet of yellow roses —  symbolic of friendship, according to the florist. The perfect flowers for my best friend, and maid of honor. I smile back at the picture and set it aside.

Then I pull a round tuit from the box, and smile again. So silly. It looks just like the one I gave Gale when we were college roommates. We exchanged them as a reminder to always make time for each other.

Tears fill my eyes as I stare at the last item in the box. I don't want to open it. I don't want to, but I must. My hand is trembling, but I reach for the memorial card...

... and there it is, her name, printed in unforgiving black script lettering. Date of death: March 1, 2023. Tucked inside the card is a note obviously written by my hand: You're running out of time.  Her mind is slipping. 

I close my eyes, and let the tears fall. Then I blow my nose and reach for the telephone.

"Hey, stranger," I say when she answers. "It's been way too long. How about if I drive down and pick you up for lunch?"



++++++

Much may be done in those little shreds and patches of time which every day produces, and which most men throw away.  [Charles Caleb Colton]

Don't wait. The time will never be just right.  [Napolean Hill]

The bad news is time flies. The good new is you're the pilot.  [Michael Altshuler]

                                     So, what might be in YOUR box?

                       Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.