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Quit Stahling

I feel like a pretty moderate person in most things. I eat healthy food, but also lots of cookies. I go to yoga, but only once a week. I own a car, albeit somewhat reluctantly, and use commercial shampoo, unlike many people I admire. Things like that make me feel a little like a mainstream sell-out, but after hearing Leslie Stahl suggest that it's a luxury to teach kids how to prepare food, I feel like a 100% pure, organic, microwave-free hippie. Kinda diggin' it. Rock on, Alice!



Thanks, Trekking Left, for sending the link.

Newt in town

Last week, Newt Gingrich was in town, speaking at the Young America Foundation. On Tuesday, I sat across from someone who had attended. When he first mentioned he was going, I wisely stopped myself from saying, "Seriously?" He was 100% sincere about it. A true Newt fan. Seriously!

At some point in the last few years, my political views became much more focused. A side effect is that it takes less time than before for me to decide that someone is a doof. That seems like a step back in some ways; one might hope to become more tolerant and compassionate of others' views as one matures. That's one of my goals, at least: to gain wisdom and perspective with age, the kind of deep calm which seems to bring with it a certain mellowness and even humor about the strange dance that is American politics.

Worse, I can't claim to be much better informed than I was when Newt was on the Big Stage. To be honest, I don't know the specifics of Newt's ickiness, just that his ideas have been presented as a point of contrast to ideas I support. What happened to listening? What happened to being open to the possibility of goodness?


All this by way of introducing a blurry photo of one of my favorite tiny creatures, this one found in the yard today. I love these little guys. They're easy to mistake for earthworms at first. They're about the same size as an earthworm and they have a passably-wormish brown-red color. Their little legs are tiny, with little newt toes that look like the world's tiniest jazz hands. So cute, the newt. Finding one of these little guys hiding under a flower pot seems absolutely magical to me. Even the fact that he's actually a California slender salamander doesn't keep from thinking this is the best newt in town.

This is what an activist looks like

As an activist knitter, I believe in showing up to bitch in person about things I don't like. I've attended my share of political protests and rallies.

So, last night, I took a [ridiculously over-scented, sorry about that] candle down to the S.A.M.E. vigil to encourage the California court to overturn Prop. 8.

I'm not going to go into the reasons why. If you're reading this blog, you probably already know them.

There were a lot of cameras there, which is great news for a protest group. There were at least two professional video crews, plus some pretty serious looking photographers. Lots of documentation of all sorts. As I kinda tall woman, standing toward the front of the group, I expect I was in more than a few shots.

So, where the heck does all this photo data and video footage end up? I was photographed, I was filmed, but where is the result? I haven't seen any online coverage. Since I don't have a TV, that limits things. Many times in my life a friend has seen me on the news or found my picture in the paper. I wonder where I'm showing up this morning.

I don't think I'm paranoid or extraordinarily vain. It's just odd to know that somewhere I'm part of someone's permanent record, yet I don't know whose record or where it's kept.

Supposedly, people in isolated tribes worried that having a photograph taken meant one's soul might be taken as well. That might be a legend. Yet it seems a little part of activist me has split away to lead a new life, forever holding a [smelly] candle in a group of hopeful people, willing to stand for something. If anyone looks, I'll be there. Maybe I'll see me someday.