Shattered

Last night as I was cleaning up the kitchen, I picked up a small piece of pottery from Key West with a rooster painted on it that I use it as a spoon rest. As I was dried it off, I started thinking about the Key West chickens. It was nice to have the spoon rest--something I see every day--to remind me of our visits.

 About ten minutes later, I picked up the dish towel and heard a crash. I had forgotten that I left the rooster spoon rest in the towel. I found three large pieces and thought that I might be able to repair it, but then I realized that another piece had shattered into tiny pieces. I actually teared up. An overreaction to be sure, but I don’t have much from Key West.

Why do I break the things that are hard to replace? One of life’s household mysteries—along with what happens to missing individual socks?

The Post-Election Post

I've read many posts today analyzing the election results.

Here's one by CNN and another from the Atlantic.

This is Melissa McEwan's perspective.

Perhaps Republicans doomed themselves by revealing their real agenda.  We were listening.

Jezebel pulls no punches here.

Women, Latinos, blacks and the young: we are the new coalition.

Stupid Now

I consider myself a smart person. I also realize that being smart won't stop me from doing stupid things. But I hate when I do stupid and careless things http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kAoAchCVPP4.

Yesterday Jeff and I went out to lunch. I decided to check my email as we were walking from the restaurant to the car. Somehow in the process I managed to erase the entire contents of my in box.

I didn't realize the extent of the problem until we got home. I didn't just erase emails from my phone, I erased them from the server. Neither my internet nor my cell service provider could undo my action and fix the situation.

One of the to-do's was to clean out my emails, copy things I need, delete things I don't. I've done this in bits and pieces but wanted to do a comprehensive sweep. Guess I should have put that higher up on the list. Today I had to send a few emails requesting copies of previous emails. Tomorrow, I guess I'll start reviewing my sent box and see what I can recreate from there.

Painful lesson learned.

What Did You Expect?

Several years ago I ordered a hot dog from a vendor in the stands at a Mets game. After I bit into it, I complained that it was cold.

"What did you expect?" said my nephew Matt.

I expected a hot hot dog. They're supposed to be warm--it's in the name--plus they're wrapped in metallic paper and stored in a metal box.

To paraphrase Rick from Casablanca: The temperature of my hot dog doesn't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.

But "What did you expect?" is often used to try to keep people from hoping for something more, to keep people in their place.

Currently I'm thinking of CBS journalist Lara Logan. She's been getting that reaction after she was sexually assaulted in Cairo during the Egyptian revolution. There are two strains to this argument: women shouldn't go to dangerous places because they can be raped; and blond, attractive women can't be near dark/swarthy/foreign/Muslim men without inciting them to rape.

I know bad things happen. I know optimism is considered naivety and cynicism is thought to be the smart, sophisticated attitude. But damn it, we all lose something when we expect the worse, when we blame people (usually women) when something goes wrong as they live their chosen lives.
I'm reminded of Bobby Kennedy and GB Shaw: Some people see things as they are and ask why, I dream things that never were and say why not?