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Inside and Outside of my Little Cocoon
Nov. 25th, 2014 05:52 pmMy husband, who is at work, has slow cooker boeuf bourgignon going. Late last night while he was frying bacon and onions and searing the steak and reducing wine and all, this whole house was smelling so luscious. I bought a giant baguette and some brie to go with it, today. Having dinner taken care of clears the way for me to bake pies and make cranberry sauce and pre-cook some vegetables that will go into things later this week.
I have so much going on in my own little world, thinking about all our trips to the allergist and what they might mean, trying to do stupid amounts of cooking, cleaning, shopping and phone arrangements for Thanksgiving... I simultaneously crave that escape and love it, retreat into it even, and also feel ill at ease that things are so good and so easy for me while so much unrest is happening in the rest of the world.
I'm trying to make some decisions, based on my facebook wall (of course), about whether or not it's becoming appropriate to unfriend people for being racists. Before you say, OF COURSE IT IS, Grant and I were both raised by casual racists (subconscious attitudes, "I had a black friend once" type people) who were raised by seriously fucked up racists (people that said the "n" word and are openly disgusted by non-whites). I have a long history of having to reconcile that, for instance, my deceased paternal grandmother who read us Mother Goose and gave us quarters to rub lotion on her feet also CRIED when they hired black assistants on The Price is Right. My Nana and Pa who took me in when my mother moved away, hosted fabulous Christmases for everyone every year and did things like make sure I had bras that fit...well, it's pretty bad. They taught me that brazil nuts were called "n____ toes" as a kid and thought mixed race couples were "such a damn shame."
All our assorted relatives - along with half the people we went to school with - fall along that spectrum. My incredibly sweet and giving mother in law called us in a panic when she was down last year, to say there was "a black man standing across the street, just standing in the yard, he's been there for awhile now and isn't going away!" She claimed to be really scared and very creeped out, and wondered if she should call the police. We were like, "Um...that's his house. He lives there? Our neighbor is black..."
Actually two people I've been close to for many years are worse than anything on that spectrum, it just rarely comes up and we have so much else in common. Because I have been on a personal mission to weed out my own casual and ingrained societal racism for a few years, I'm aware of nobody being perfect and usually hope that everyone is gradually waking up to this business together. It seems counter productive to just cut people off because they haven't "evolved" and begun to question this stuff.
I am the lone voice crying in the wilderness on many comment threads where I dare to say, "Uh, seriously guys?" to the worst of it all. Which I do. It's really terrible, though. I suppose it's the ultimate in my own privilege, that I've actually been more personally upset by the ugliness people are spewing about Ferguson, than by the situation itself. Food for thought, eh?
Speaking of strange and potentially tense relations...Thanksgiving is shaping up to be really interesting around here. I'm actually pretty excited about it, even though it's hard to actually picture and Grant has reserved the right tohide in our room go to bed very very early. My sister and her kids are coming...with Frank. Frank hasn't been inside my house in 2 or 3 years, at least. Before that, it was another 2 or 3. He did stop by and hang out in the yard at the end of the night for Thanksgiving last year, drunk as all get out (and entertaining, not like terrible drunk). We get along a lot better than we used to, it's just very unusual. My kids were confused that this is a possibility.
My mother is most likely coming... and so is my Dad. Those two were both in my vicinity at once last when I lay dying. Because, you know, that's the level of severity necessary to bring them together. I woke up in the ICU like "OH MAN IT'S THAT BAD?! YOU'RE STANDING THERE NEXT TO EACH OTHER?" Before that, the last time was when Grant and I were teenagers participating in a live nativity roadside scene. I remember crying out, "It's a real Christmas miracle!" When I was a little kid, the agreement was that I spent Thanksgiving with my Dad's family, and Christmas with my Mom's.
My brother is also a likely candidate. I've texted with him for birthdays and holidays, and given him a gift through my mom, since I kicked him out of my house two years ago. He might be bringing his girlfriend of 3 years, who texted my sister this afternoon, "I'm still not sure about you people." He's definitely bringing his 3 snakes, since he's afraid they'll die without him in the cold of his uninsulated home.
So that's some real holiday movie shit, eh? It actually makes me laugh hysterically to read over, but I'm usually game for an adventure.
Off I go to continue readying everything... It's actually supposed to be cold that evening (for us), and we always eat outside, so Grant's planning a fire and homemade marshmallows. I bought cider to heat up, today. All of my kids are half amped, and half already done with the endless list of extra tasks I'm giving them.
I have so much going on in my own little world, thinking about all our trips to the allergist and what they might mean, trying to do stupid amounts of cooking, cleaning, shopping and phone arrangements for Thanksgiving... I simultaneously crave that escape and love it, retreat into it even, and also feel ill at ease that things are so good and so easy for me while so much unrest is happening in the rest of the world.
I'm trying to make some decisions, based on my facebook wall (of course), about whether or not it's becoming appropriate to unfriend people for being racists. Before you say, OF COURSE IT IS, Grant and I were both raised by casual racists (subconscious attitudes, "I had a black friend once" type people) who were raised by seriously fucked up racists (people that said the "n" word and are openly disgusted by non-whites). I have a long history of having to reconcile that, for instance, my deceased paternal grandmother who read us Mother Goose and gave us quarters to rub lotion on her feet also CRIED when they hired black assistants on The Price is Right. My Nana and Pa who took me in when my mother moved away, hosted fabulous Christmases for everyone every year and did things like make sure I had bras that fit...well, it's pretty bad. They taught me that brazil nuts were called "n____ toes" as a kid and thought mixed race couples were "such a damn shame."
All our assorted relatives - along with half the people we went to school with - fall along that spectrum. My incredibly sweet and giving mother in law called us in a panic when she was down last year, to say there was "a black man standing across the street, just standing in the yard, he's been there for awhile now and isn't going away!" She claimed to be really scared and very creeped out, and wondered if she should call the police. We were like, "Um...that's his house. He lives there? Our neighbor is black..."
Actually two people I've been close to for many years are worse than anything on that spectrum, it just rarely comes up and we have so much else in common. Because I have been on a personal mission to weed out my own casual and ingrained societal racism for a few years, I'm aware of nobody being perfect and usually hope that everyone is gradually waking up to this business together. It seems counter productive to just cut people off because they haven't "evolved" and begun to question this stuff.
I am the lone voice crying in the wilderness on many comment threads where I dare to say, "Uh, seriously guys?" to the worst of it all. Which I do. It's really terrible, though. I suppose it's the ultimate in my own privilege, that I've actually been more personally upset by the ugliness people are spewing about Ferguson, than by the situation itself. Food for thought, eh?
Speaking of strange and potentially tense relations...Thanksgiving is shaping up to be really interesting around here. I'm actually pretty excited about it, even though it's hard to actually picture and Grant has reserved the right to
My mother is most likely coming... and so is my Dad. Those two were both in my vicinity at once last when I lay dying. Because, you know, that's the level of severity necessary to bring them together. I woke up in the ICU like "OH MAN IT'S THAT BAD?! YOU'RE STANDING THERE NEXT TO EACH OTHER?" Before that, the last time was when Grant and I were teenagers participating in a live nativity roadside scene. I remember crying out, "It's a real Christmas miracle!" When I was a little kid, the agreement was that I spent Thanksgiving with my Dad's family, and Christmas with my Mom's.
My brother is also a likely candidate. I've texted with him for birthdays and holidays, and given him a gift through my mom, since I kicked him out of my house two years ago. He might be bringing his girlfriend of 3 years, who texted my sister this afternoon, "I'm still not sure about you people." He's definitely bringing his 3 snakes, since he's afraid they'll die without him in the cold of his uninsulated home.
So that's some real holiday movie shit, eh? It actually makes me laugh hysterically to read over, but I'm usually game for an adventure.
Off I go to continue readying everything... It's actually supposed to be cold that evening (for us), and we always eat outside, so Grant's planning a fire and homemade marshmallows. I bought cider to heat up, today. All of my kids are half amped, and half already done with the endless list of extra tasks I'm giving them.
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