Conflicted

I've been going back and forth about something for some time now. 

I spend a lot of time at work on the computer; hence, I read a lot of blogs.  One that I began reading about a  year ago is written by a Mormon mother of four who used to live in Mesa, Arizona and was burned over 80% of her body in a small airplane crash in 2008.  I originally read her story in the Arizona Republic soon after the crash, when both she and her husband were in the Maricopa Burn Center recovering.  The newspaper did an amazing series on her, her blog, and her family.  I found it really inspiring and I needed that at the time (I was studying full-time for the California bar exam and contemplating moving 750 miles away from my family and friends--enough said).

So I've spent a lot of time reading her blog, and her sister's blog, and I like reading them.  They both post often, almost daily, and talk about fairly mundane everyday stuff--but it's entertaining.  You can learn a lot about a person and her family this way.  It's weird to feel like you know someone whom you've never actually met.  I like their senses of style, the way they approach motherhood, and the way they responded to an event that easily could have turned into a major family tragedy.

This is my problem:  both of these women are devout LDS members; both live in Provo, Utah; both seem to subscribe to a fairly conservative agenda.  Neither of them talk about politics much on their blogs, but some issues have come up in a linked forum.  It shouldn't have surprised me in the least when I read a statement to the effect that all gay people are damned unless they repent and do not act on their feelings.  They'll (supposedly) gladly welcome a person who identifies as gay into the church as long as that person agrees to lead a celibate lifestyle.

But it did surprise me.  Reading these comments, I almost felt like a friend had stabbed me in the back.  And then I was asking myself, "How can I like a person who believes this, who puts these ideas out into the world and who is raising children to believe this?"

And then I got angry.  I got angry that I was contributing to page counts and thus advertising dollars for these people who stalwartly oppose who I am.  I got even more angry after reading daily summaries from the Prop 8 trial, which has exposed for the world the extent to which both the LDS and Catholic churches contributed to the Yes on 8 campaign.  I was really angry.  I stayed away from their blogs for awhile and then I found that I missed them.

This is how I've tried to reconcile this for myself.  As much as I'd like to pass judgment on these people, I will not do that based solely on a blog.  I can like some things about a person and dislike other things.  If we met in real life, we could probably agree to disagree.  And the reason I came to this decision is because I would never want anyone to judge me solely on one attribute.  I am a woman, a wife, a lesbian, a lawyer, a sister, a daughter, a Democrat--but as a person my sum is greater than my individual parts.  I believe that most people are more complex than just their political party, sexual orientation, or religion.  [Not all, mind you--I'm still writing off Glenn Beck and Pat Robertson and Rush Limbaugh and a slew of other crazies who appear to be motivated by hate and hate alone.]  I believe in God--but I have a problem with organized religions that tidily sweep entire groups of people into boxes and then judge them.

I like to think if I met these people in person, we could talk and find some common ground--even if just through cute clothes and sixties design.  They might find that I'm a lot like them, that I want to have a family, that we share a lot of the same ideals--except I am a woman who has a wife.

Or maybe we'd just get in a cat fight.  Who knows.

I'm still conflicted.

A Stately Way to Travel

It's about time that we brought back the train as a means of travel.  If you've been to Europe, you know how lovely it is to be able to take a high-speed train (or a slow one, if you so desire) anywhere, anytime.  There's no real need to drive yourself or to get on a plane to travel between ten or twelve countries.  Though I've never liked to fly, it's become even more unpleasant over the last few years with all of the long security lines, new rules, and people padding around barefoot at security checkpoints (shudder).  Planes are cramped, takeoffs and landings make me feel sick, and I really hate the idea of breathing a bunch of recycled air.

But TRAINS...they're generally more spacious, there's no leaving the ground, and you can actually see the scenery you're passing by.  A girl can get up and walk around and check out the dining car and maybe even the cocktail car.  Train sleeping berths are ridiculously cute and cozy and being rocked to sleep by a train's movement is pretty wonderful.  Yes, I've been dreaming about good trains in America for awhile now.

Now, work is slated to begin on a high-speed rail line between San Francisco and Southern California! 

The question at the forefront of my brain is:  how fast will this train get me from my apartment to Disneyland? ;)  By my calculations, in less than 4 hours.  Splendid.

Next Road Trip

Over the last several years I've developed this strange fascination with abandoned buildings.  Generally, the bigger and more industrial/institutional, the better.  But I like them all, from old, rundown, faded red country barns, to decrepit, concrete 1940s gas stations, to the left-behind insane asylums, hospitals, and factories of the Rust Belt.  I'm not sure why I find these husks of buildings so alluring; I think it might have to do with the fact that they leave you free to imagine what they were like in their prime.  They're also mysterious, sad, and a bit creepy.  Who leaves a hundred-year-old, beautiful, brick Art Deco hospital empty to rot?  Lots of companies, cities, and towns, apparently.

More than once I've thought about how cool it would be to deliberately go looking for these gems in the United States.  I've been lucky enough to marvel at European ruins--the Rotten Tooth in Berlin and the crumbling shell of the Forum in Rome rank as my favorites--but you expect to see that there.  When you're on a train slowly moving through East Germany, you expect to see old shacks and abandoned buildings along the train tracks.  You, or at least I, don't expect to see that level of age or abandonment in America, especially on the West Coast.

If I were to seriously plan this road trip, I think my first stop would be Detroit for obvious reasons (check out this photo slideshow of Detroit's many abandoned beauties!).  From there, I'd make a circuit east, hitting smaller towns with crumbling old schools, hospitals, and factories.  Finding abandoned theme/amusement parks would be a major bonus.

Lucky for me, until this trip becomes a reality, I have the lovely Internet to sate my appetite for defunct architecture.  There doesn't appear to be any shortage of people who devote a lot of their time to photographing derelict buildings.  This is my favorite urban exploration site, but these are good too:

Abandoned state hospital

Defunct amusement parks

Abandoned factories, mills and mines

I wouldn't advise digging into these sites late at night because a lot of them are freaky.

Calistoga in Pictures

Despite several close calls, I was able to keep our weekend destination a secret from Cole until we were about 5 miles away from Calistoga.  The weekend was great, even with chilly, rainy weather.  It was a nice way to see Napa, all glistening from the rain and with mist descending on the hills.  Still, I want to go back this summer when it's sunny (and warm) to ride bikes between the wineries.

What we did:

• Got tasty donuts for the drive from SF to Calistoga
• Strolled along Lincoln Avenue, looking at shops (I found an antique necklace and plate)
• Made friends with a lady selling Oaxacan wares in a tiny old house
• Had drinks and lunch at Miguel's (mole enchiladas and a chile relleno...mmm)
• Wine tasting at Cuvaison
• Fudge at the Candy Cellar and coffee at Yo el Rey
• Enjoyed the spa and sauna at our hotel
• Watched some trash on cable in our room
• Dinner and drinks at the Calistoga Inn
• Mud baths, mineral baths, and blanket wraps at Dr. Wilkinson's.

Oh, and Cole indulged me on the way home by stopping at an amazing sixties relic of a mall along the 101.  It was like the California version of Christown.

Worth the Read

Ted Olson explains how a conservative Republican lawyer can not only be for gay marriage, but the lead the case for it.  It's a civil rights issue.  Period.

Isn't hindsight always 20/20?  This weekend Cole and I were talking about standing up for what we believe in.  It's something that you theoretically want to be able to do all the time, but more difficult to put into practice.  Case in point:  it's Saturday evening, we're in Calistoga (a small town in Napa, true, but also just 75 miles from San Francisco) at our hotel, soaking in the naturally-heated mineral spa, and two older couples get in.  One couple is from a nearby rural town; the husband finds it necessary to keep pointing out the moon for some reason, and the wife has entered the hot tub in a heinously floral one-piece, still wearing all of her gold jewelry.  The other couple is a super liberal, hippie duo from Berkeley (exhibiting unshaven pits and all). 

After a few minutes of small talk, the gold-chain-wearing woman tells me that I "just look SO MUCH like Sigourney Weaver!" and "You must get that all the time!"  My displeasure must have shown on my face because her husband quickly interjected, "Well, a much younger version of her, of course."  I smiled and left the spa for the sauna.  I DON'T like being compared to Weaver; the more it happens, the more it annoys me.*  Even though she was awesome in Ghostbusters.

Anyway, I digress.  But not that much.  Cole came to the sauna with me and when I left to go back to our room, she went back to the spa.  That girl just loves to soak in warm water.  By this time, the two couples in the spa had moved from discussing Sigourney Weaver's red carpet attire to a much more volatile subject (and possibly one unfit for what is supposed to be a relaxing spa): politics.  From what Cole said, they were debating various issues and finally the jewelry monger declared disapprovingly, "The world is just getting so crazy.  All this talk of legalizing pot and gay marriage!" 

Cole came back to our room asking me if she should have said something to this lady.  Something like, "Hey, that was my wife here earlier, we consider ourselves to be married, why is that such a problem for you?"  Because in our experience, once a person knows someone who's gay, it's easier to have an open mind about these issues.  And harder for even a conservative Republican to apply a discriminatory attitude to a person right in front of her.

In hindsight, I would have directed this woman to Olson's Newsweek article.  I doubt she would have been able to effectively argue against a smart Republican lawyer standing up for civil rights.

Or would I have really?  Is it wrong to want to just enjoy your vacation without debating politics in the hot tub?

*Minor edit:  If someone wants to compare me to S.W. in this movie, I'm okay with it.  Love the dress and her stubby ponytail.

Into the light

So when we moved into our radically-smaller apartment in SF, I stowed most of my craft stuff either under our bed in various boxes or in my closet. Once in awhile, when I had a good chunk of time, I'd set up my craft table, haul out all of my supplies, and get to work. Because the table was awkwardly placed in the middle of our (not very large) bedroom, I always felt like I needed to finish my projects the same day I started them and then tidy everything up and put it away.

It really cramped by style. And didn't make me want to create anything.

But a couple of weeks ago I rearranged one side of the room to make a permanent home for my craft table. It has made me so happy.

Now I don't have to wait for a Saturday to start a project. On a work night, even after the gym, I can sit down for 5 or 10 minutes and work on something and not worry about finishing it at the same time. Now my big papercutter has a home, nestled right up against my baby succulents (stolen from a neighbor's yard in Tempe and delivered to me in SF by Vic). It sits right in front of our big, currently rain-splattered window, allowing me to monitor the street scene (and there is one, trust me).

Side note: Please don't ever call me a SCRAPBOOKER. I don't scrapbook. Well, I guess I technically may have back in '97 after my Germany trip, but that was before scrapbooking became the gigantic industry it is now. I mainly used stationery, markers, and photos. Now, scrapbooking as a hobby seems to be about seeing how much scrapbooking junk you can buy at the closest big box craft retailer. And then throwing it all into a scrapbook you bought at that same big box craft retailer. It just doesn't seem very creative to me.

I do like to make things with SCRAPS of paper, but I try not to buy a lot of premade stuff. I prefer to reuse old cards, magazine covers, photos, and (best of all) vintage advertising. Lucky for me, every time she cleans out a room in her house, Pat gives me a stack of vintage stuff she has unearthed. I'm still trying to figure out what to do with that signed etching of Lyndon B. Johnson and the string-tied pile of 1950s get well cards.

"I can't stand the raaaaaain!"

{channelling Tina Turner}...except I CAN because I get to wear these.

galoshes, originally uploaded by kelly_shira.

My first ever pair of galoshes! It should come as no surprise that I never had any growing up in Phoenix. The only time you'd need them there is during monsoon season, when wearing rubber boots in 100 degree heat and high humidity would be torture. Ironically, I could have used galoshes in Flagstaff in the winter, but I don't remember ever seeing any that didn't offend my fashion sensibilities.

But cute galoshes are *all over* San Francisco. My polka dot boots are in good company with Burberry plaids, hunters' checks, colorful stripes, and of course, the navy blue L.L. Bean classic.

Best of all, these galoshes make me want to rampage through puddles like a little kid. I could, too, and my feet would be warm and dry.

Day 7 of rain today. As exciting as the wet weather is to a Phoenix transplant, I hope--no, NEED--it to clear up this weekend. I'm spiriting Cole away for a surprise birthday weekend and the rain may severely compromise my plans. Come on, sun!

Good rainy day music: Fleet Foxes.