Don't Cook Naked!

At least not when hot oil is necessary. I ended up in the emergency room this morning after carelessly tossing a hamburger into smoking oil as I, still half asleep and dreaming of our upcoming trip to see the Dalai Lama, was trying to make lunch for work. Splattered super-hot oil all over my torso and the tops of my thighs. I ran to bathroom, turned the shower on cold, and let it run over me for five minutes. Then a dousing with aloe, then another five minutes with ice cubes wrapped in a cloth.

Then is a daze I got dressed in a little black dress I usually reserve for evening, but I needed something really lose and there it was, and went to work, worrying that I would miss the 8:30 meeting I’d called. Before presenting my material I told my boss and coworker what had happened, explaining that I may be a little less coherent than usual because I was in some degree of pain, and requesting that they tell only their wives and not spread the image of my frying hamburgers naked and half awake first thing in the morning all over work(!), when my boss responded by telling me to get my ass to the emergency room and that we could deal with the meeting issues afterward. Thanks, boss. I do appreciate that.

So, a few laughs from the emergency room staff later, I’ve got some red hot welts but luckily the burns are only 1st degree. Tetanus shot, codeine, aloe, fish and chips at the Tap Room and back at work.

Honestly, as I was jumping around the house cursing and crying, thoughts of His Holiness kept popping into my head, and I would calm down a bit, imagining how he might be equipped with a mantra or two that would help with the pain. Funny.

So really, I’m serious. There is a reason why one should not fry food in the nude.
Only I could have a moment that blond. Only I.

My Dreams Are Trying to Help me

Thanks to The Princess for this:

Kali says, "Men of Earth, sexual responsibility is yours too. This sense you have that women are sex, are responsible for your sexual urges and choices, is wrong, deadly, stupid, childish, and simply not up the par of any real or serious masculinity. I will crush you like bugs."

The thing is, the dreams keep putting it pretty clearly. He is either not answering the phone, or he’s telling me straight out, “I can’t help you.” Or, he’s off, all dressed up, and won't tell me where he's going.

I've been having these dreams since I first got to know Metal Ox. Almost six years ago. In one early one, he was an astronaut on the space shuttle. All the astronauts' partners were calling them to say hi to them in orbit, and it was on TV, like it used to be during the Apollo program. But he wouldn't answer my call. I kept calling and calling, and he kept ignoring me. We could see him doing it on the TV! Finally, he answered. Told me he was busy, hung up. This is the pattern of the dreams. They follow life. But I stick around, off and on. Friend or lover. What am I hoping for? That he'll learn what he was never taught?

So the dream I had on Sunday night after I called him and asked his help exploring the possibilities of paying his mother a visit on my way home from Michigan, the dream in which there was a gang rape in progress, on me, and led by his brothers and buddies (though I doubt there is little to the presence of his brothers in a way that’s personal to them – it has more to do with MO's failure to stand by me with his siblings, and their way of ganging up on “outsiders”), and when I pleaded to him for help he said, turning his head away from me, “I can’t help you,” right there, in the dream – it was clear that his concern was that he look tough, look like he’s one with the men who are doing something manly, that he was not "pussy whipped" -- standing up for me would demean his standing with his brothers and buddies. “You’ll be alright,” he says, “There’s a long tradition of this.” (This "tradition" thing sounds close to arguments for stripping and prostitution, that they've always existed and so will always exist and ending them is just a silly endeavor; this is logical fallacy, of course -- that something has always existed is not a valid argument for the impossibility of ending its existence.)

Now, having this dream at Joyce and Tony’s had a particular effect. I know, from years of being near them, that while theirs is not a perfect relationship (since such does not exist), it is one I would be more than pleased to have. Largely, this is directly due to their integrity as individual human beings. For whatever reason, I have not been exposed to copious amounts of integrity in men. Nor politeness. And politeness, to one’s partner in particular (for many people seem to overlook the role of good manners in a successful relationship of that sort), is, it becomes more and more clear as I mature, critical to harmony in the home. If you will.

Good manners. Taking responsibility not only for one’s own actions but also for one’s own thoughts, for Christ’s sake. Seriously. The way I see Tony, he has accepted the necessity of controlling his own mind. Joyce and I talked about this, referring to ourselves. Then he and I talked about it a bit. If this sounds like repression, it’s not. It’s integrity. Yoga and other forms of meditation teach it – part of these practices is keeping the mind focused and clean. The man who was just arrested for trying to make arrangements to have sex with a five year old? He had clearly allowed his thoughts to follow a train they should not have. At any point, he had the choice to stop, move his thoughts in another direction. In my view, people like Metal Ox who have a porn habit and all the other roads that leads to (while denying to themselves the harm that comes from it, on a jillion levels) are displaying a weakness of mind and a lack of integrity, and the two operate hand in hand. Strength of mind that leads to integrity need not be repressive; one needs, though, to be intelligent enough to understand oneself in the context of all the aspects of one’s environment. Refusal to consider one's role in the functioning of that environment is a kind of denial that makes self-regulation seem like repression. In the end it's an adolescent mind set: "I'm a free person so no one call tell me what to do!" and is unproductive. The mature, intellegent mind/personality can see and accept the consequences of its words and actions and it has accepted its own investment in helping to create a harmonious environment, and environment of trust, in order to benefit itself and its co-inhabitants.

Or, maybe it will work is one is just innocent and protected enough, but dumb. Most dumb people, though, aren't innocent. Not any more.

The way I see it, Metal Ox. having not accepted any responsibility for his integrity and its impact on his relationships, is allowing himself to follow unworthy thoughts. And he has never been taught the role of manners in relationship. These two factor together, though i thought at first they wouldn't do so, are depleting even my wish to be his buddy. It’s just tiring. There’s never a time when I can count on him not to get rude and selfish (much less seedy and gross – but the idea was I’d leave behind caring about that when I left behind being his “girlfriend”) at really bizarre moments. You would think that, even if he didn’t care about helping me out, he would have wanted to facilitate helping his mom. And it’s not that he doesn’t want me to visit her. He’s always suggesting I call her, or asking me to go with him to see here. It’s not that. It’s carelessness. It’s lack of Home Raising. It’s mind caught on tracks that require secrecy and selfishness.

So maybe it does matter to me that Metal ox, “as a friend,” is a porn and strip club frequenter. Maybe it’s just an iciness I don’t want to have to tolerate. And maybe I do think that there’s addiction there, and that addiction feeds his insulation against really sharing his life. And that growing up watching people treat one another with rudeness and disregard, and having never questioned that, he is continuing it. It sucks that there’s this generous part of him that makes him, for instance, one of the few “friends” who felt it important to remember my birthday. There is the sweet side of him. But isn’t there always?

So, visiting J&T I get the reminder: it’s possible to have a relationship that’s not conflicted issues of basic integrity. There are men who feel, and not because of a religion or a fear of freedom, that responsibility to integrity is indispensable. That there’s no excuse for violating that responsibility. And that, damn it, good manners are important.

I don’t get that close to many other couple’s ways of seeing, behaving. And even outside of coupledom, just visiting them as friends, it’s very comfortable to know that issues of mind and manner are at an agreeable baseline. This reminds me how conflicted I feel on this level when I’m spending any time at all with Metal Ox. Sure, I love him like a brother, and he’s important to me. And sure, he is one of the few people who remembered my birthday and he brought me very sweet and thoughtful gifts. But there’s a price for all of that, and ultimately it’s my peace of mind. For there is always that moment when he turns his head away.

What are the words to this song?

You know, the one about "I met a girl from Kalamazoo...?" In Hannibal a few weeks ago I was talking with this cheese shop guy and he played me the song while I ate his cheese samples. Benny Goodman's band? I can't remember.

Anyway, that's where I'm at. It's pretty nice here. Visiting Joyce and Tony. Meeting some of their friends, had them over for dinner, all English faculty at Western Mich, so of course I was right at home with that. Everyone calls the Upper Pennensula "the UP," which I find funny 'cause it's sounds like some Midwestern version of "the OC."

Went to The Lake (Michigan) last night for sunset picnic -- very scenic. Feels like the ocean. Took the back roads.

There's a big foresty nature preserve a few minutes from J and T's house, getting ready to go explore that. And things are cheap here. Aritsan bakery: Scottish Something bread, tripple espresso, cappiccino, two Danish: $7.25. All excellent quality. Good Lord. I could live like a queen here.

So, adieu momentarly while I return to vacationing, and the long drive home tonight. (Sorry about the typos -- I'm on Joyce's laptop and the keyboard is awkward and I can't get this blogspot spellchecker to work.)

Notes

1. First private cheffing gig. So much fun! Learned so much. So lucky to have been engaged by a kind and gentle client. Couldn't have been more lovely gushing about the food from the guests. I worked about twice as hard as charged for it -- charging money is still hard for me. Something to work on. I worry so much about people's budgets. Not like mine has much wiggle room, so I can't explain why. But at any rate it was a good and happy experience, in spite of the fact that I lost my help at the last minute to SII's sudden pukiness, and my clothes drier broke the night before with all my clothes for the event wet in the washer so I had to spend part of my planned morning prep time in the laundry where the bitchy laundress declined to put a rush on drying them for me so that I could get back to work and go get the baguette and cut the figs even when I offered her a $20 tip to do so. And then I did find a darling friend who was able to give me 2.5 hours of prep help, and thank you dear really it would not have come together on time without you. So: lesson learned: have a back-up plan for help! Time to call the culinary school and ask for a list of willing chefs in training.

2. Must see movie: Trade. An engaging and well-made narrative film about human sex trafficking. Kevin Klein lends his well-trained acting and cache to the project. This film is not for kids, though. It's pretty graphic and grueling. But for those who are only marginally or even completely unaware of this horrendous injustice that's totally rampant in the world right now this is a pretty effective way to get them engaged. Especially since it manages to be uplifting in the end, though I won't say why so as not to spoil. http://www.tradethemovie.com/

3. Alice Waters has a new cookbook. Of course she is the local, simple, sustainable foods pioneer who inspires us all. I just read the introduction to the book and I must say that her words are so close to my feeling about food that I'd love to share them with you all: http://beta.bordersstores.com/online/store/ArticleView_artofsimplefood.

4. I was unaware that I had won a Best Individual Garden Award from Gateway Greening for my little plot in the Lafayette Square Community Garden, back in the earlier summer. I guess I read the email wrong! I am so happy. Inspired by this recognition I've decided to create little micro-worlds within the garden, starting in this fall/winter planting and organization, then hopefully coming to a fuller fruition in the spring. I went in last night and did a lot of pulling up of plants for fall clean-up. But I left the flowered-out basil because My God the bees are just loving it. I was at least three types of bee enjoying the flowers, especially the purple basil's tall blooms, while I was working. There were dozens on them, the bees, and it was really nice to work along side them. I have always found bees to be very friendly and cooperative, you know, as long as one doesn't frighten them or accidentally step on one or something. But who can you not say that of? I planted a sage plant, and two winter savories. I've got the idea to get a good variety of culinary herbs going. The globe basil is perennial and I will definitely leave that in. I also planted some pansies. Little violet colored ones. A little fall color, and if we're lucky they'll peak back out in spring. Oh! And I finally bought a Allium Giganteum! I can't wait for that one to bloom in spring! I've wanted one my whole life. My grandma Nonie grew them. The blooms are as big a softballs (or bigger) and they are just as magical as a moon growing in the garden. I may go down to Bowood and get some more. It's just that they're $5 a bulb, which actually isn't a bad price, but still. And five hyacinth, four white and one purple. I also took all the twiggy bamboo staking materials that had been supposedly supporting the okra, eggplants, and leggy sunflowers and made a couple of mystery-looking spots. And a brass Tibetan Buddha, small, under the skeleton tee-pee, a rock circle, some shells. I am beginning to feel my little garden as a sacred space. Cultivating that has to make for even yummier herbs and vegetables.

So, love and the joys of knowledge, compassion, earth, food, and growing things. Fall. Change. Never to forget change. The only constant.

The Letter Writer Strikes Again

Dear Dr. Bollinger,

I am saddened to see how ungraciously our country was represented by you in your introduction of Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. Regardless of what one might think of him as a person or a leader, he was, after all, invited by you to speak, was a guest in your "house," and deserved respectful treatment.

My liberal arts education led me to believe that we who hold advanced degrees and live the life of the mind are to represent ourselves and our way of life as rational and more fair than the emotionally driven lives of religion and jingoism. It is a shame that we have been degraded by your behavior. President Ahmadinejad's own words would have done all that was needed to show the world the sort of person he is. It would have been nice if we'd come out looking like the civilized and well mannered ones.

You've added another elemental bit of ammunition to those who desire to disrespect the United States. I wonder what you might do to repair it?

Perhaps you should consult Ms. Manners?

Sincerely,

Margaret Howard

If you'd like to drop him a note, pro or con his manner:

bollinger@columbia.edu

Phone: 212-854-9970