I am very much enjoying this series of advice-seeking posts. I have learned a lot from you’all’s knowledge and compassion. This next post is difficult, and I worry about posting it because this guest needs to be treated with great respect and kindness. Please live up to my expectations and weigh all your words and advice carefully. She wishes to remain anonymous; let’s call her Lucy.

Background: I come from a long line of abuse–my dad was horrifically physically abused by his parents (who were probably also physically abused, sexual abuse seems certain, based on stories), my mom was not, to my knowledge, physically abused, but was emotionally abused. My dad chose to never physically abuse, but was horrifically emotionally abusive to me. My mom was physically abusive to me when I was young (this stopped when, at around age 9, I told her “no more.”), but she has always been emotionally abusive.

So I very intentionally married a gentle man, married late, and postponed having children until I was sure I would not replicate the abuse. I have two kids now, and they are my everything. They are the stars, the moon and the sun. I cannot imagine my life being complete without them. I was in love with their babyhood, staying at home with them, spending literally hours gazing adoringly at them. That said…
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When members of the church find out I’m a Democrat (or a Feminist), the first question they usually ask is about abortion. In other words. How can you? You support abortion? (Cue ominous music.)

It’s much more complicated than that, both being a Democrat (it’s not a one issue thing) and Abortion itself.

The way we talk about abortion is stupid. Despite the fact that the arguments we hear, the labels we bear, are often portrayed as extreme, most of us are not extreme.

My lack of ‘extreme’ doesn’t mean that I don’t care. I care. A lot. It’s just that neither pro-choice nor pro-life (and the policial baggage they carry) describe my feelings on the subject. I want a new label.
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This is going to be a controversial post. No, really. And it’s not the age-old and heated debate about Which Is More Divine: Chocolate or Cheese.

You see, I spent Thanksgiving weekend away from home with some non-LDS family. Our last day in town we had done some shopping at a local hangout of sorts where they sell posh, artisan and organic foods and our relatives were delighted to discover that we (in particular, I) have a taste for yummy artisan cheese. Yummmmmm. While I strenuously maintain that chocolate is the More Divine of the two (and I also bought some absolutely lovely chocolate whilst on the same outing), I do love cheese (more…)

This may not come as a surprise to any of you, but I have made some mistakes in my life. Some of them whoppers. Some of them so big I thought I might never find my way out of them, and I began, for a while, to think of myself as a cracked plate that–however deftly glued back together–could never again appear or be thought of as whole.

But I’ve found, as I make my way through life, and navigate the waters of forgiveness, that in many ways I have been blessed in my blunders, and fortunate in my falls.

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(About myself: I grew up in a faithful Mormon family and have been active all my life. My husband and I met in grad school and got married last year. We lived on opposite coasts for the first year of our marriage but he has recently joined me in California and we are enjoying life together while we work up the courage to have kids. My views are pretty liberal for a Mormon, but pretty conservative for the Bay Area.)

8am: I wake up with a scorching sore throat. This is a problem because I have to teach for three hours today. I load up my bag with cold medicine and sore throat lozenges, get ready for work, pack my lunch and head to school.

9am: I get to my office, decide that I don’t want to give the lecture that I had prepared for my 10am class and prepare a new one. I’ll use the old one next week.
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The other day my Institute class sort of degenerated from a discussion of the gospel into a political debate. I, unfortunately, may have had something to do with this.

My teacher read D&C 44:4 “And many shall be converted, insomuch that ye shall obtain power to organize yourselves according to the laws of man” citing this as the reason that Utah has certain laws. His examples? Stores don’t sell alcohol, restaurants don’t allow smoking, and in Farmington, Utah, the public pool is closed on Utah.

Now, I think Utah crosses the line. No alcohol in stores? Fine, that’s hardly unusual. No smoking – that’s a public health issue, fine. But keeping the public pool closed on Sunday! I thought this was outrageous. So I went against my usual rule – keeping my mouth shut on political matters in church settings – and spoke up, voicing my disapproval and totally shocked that anybody would really think that this was okay.

Now, considering the political spectrum of members of our church, I’m pretty far left, probably close to about as far as it goes, and I am aware of this. I usually try not to be controversial if I can help it. But I was in disbelief – how could people really think this was okay? (more…)

Thanksgiving has always been a huge deal in my extended family: those of us who lived close enough would drive in for the day, those who weren’t would mourn their exile. The prep and the cooking — usually two or three days of it — always fell to the women. We were like the Whos down in Whoville at their Christmas feast; tables piled with this and that, enough food to feed a village in the Sudan for a month. The men would do the dishes when it was over. I think it was probably a pretty typical middle-class, Mormon, with parents-raised-on-a-farm kind of celebration: work, family, football and gluttony — the true spirit of Thanksgiving

Well, last Wednesday night I headed for the store for a little last-minute pre-Thanksgiving shopping. I picked up my needful item and 2 or three others just to be sure, then went to the check out line. While I was standing there I overheard the [male] cashier and the [male] bagger talking about Thanksgiving. They were talking about their plans — drinking wine, eating a lot, watching the game and basically just doing nothing for the whole day. Hive-fiving each other about their upcoming vacation. I said “I guess neither of you is cooking . . .” The cashier retorted “of course not, why do you think we’re so happy?”

I was annoyed. Didn’t say much then, but yeah, I was annoyed. But to tell the truth, it was a vicarious annoyance for a lot of other people who slave away to recreate the Thanksgiving everyone seems to expect. It wasn’t really for me: we simplified that holiday long ago and have been much happier for it. (more…)

We ran this last year, but unfortunately, there are still too many people in need of help. This year’s cases are from Algeria, Central African Republic, China, Eritrea, Indonesia, Morocco, Russia, Rwanda, Uzbekistan and Vietnam.

Every year Amnesty International sponsers an Amnesty International Holiday Card
action. People get generic holiday cards (those that do not specifically name Christmas or Hannukah, etc., but simply say Happy Holidays or Season’s Greetings or are blank), and write a brief note in them, such as the standard Amnesty International phrase: You are not forgotten. You can then to people on a list of selected prisoners of conscience for this year’s campaign

Guidelines When Sending Cards

-Send simplye messages of goodwill, such as “We are thinking of you”.

-Don’t discuss the political situation or the charges against the prisoners.

-The people featured here hold diverse religious beliefs. Please send non-religious greetings rather than Christmas or other religious-themed cards.

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Blue asks this very pertinent question in the ISL thread:

I’m so uninformed about all this stuff! I’ve been, as my DH calls me, a “true believer” (while, after being raised in LDS church, great mission & temple marriage, DH no longer believes.) He said he’s read and learned too much to trust the church any more.

So I don’t know how to read this stuff and not get my panties in a twist. It’s really hard! Historically, I dip my big toe in, sample the water, and retreat with a slightly greater awareness than before my trip to the pool, but I have far from a solid grasp of our history, or religious history, or any other kind of history, or reality (–whatever that is–) for that matter.
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I’m not much of a book reviewer, and I’m terrible with deadlines. Which actually explains a lot about my myriad successes in life. (cough)

This is only my third serious Mormon history, and I’ve gotten the impression from the bloggernacle literati and from the book itself, that Compton has gone to pains to be fair and accurate. He seems very balanced as he explains his sources, and weighs and interprets them. But being fair doesn’t make the content less . . . um . . . curiouser and curiouser. Not to mention that all this necessary meticulousness can be yawn inducing.

As luck would have it, the punks and I have just finished Through the Looking Glass as I simultaneously finish In Sacred Loneliness. Six Impossible Things before Breakfast, twould seem a cake walk.

Good thing I don’t waste time trying to reconcile. Can’t imagine why you’d want to try. (more…)

I wanted to thank the FMH permabloggers and all of the readers for letting me post here! It’s been fun!

Like a few of you I have a personal blog that is filled to the brim with pictures of my little one. The name of mine, The Wonderful Adventures of Nils, is the name of a book by Selma Lagerlof, a woman that all feminists should know about. She was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature, and went on to become part of the Swedish Academy which gives the Nobel awards, and was the first woman to do either. She is featured on the 20 Kronor note and her book, originally written as a tool to teach geography to children, is still in use for that purpose.

The book itself, which can be read here or at the local library, is about a boy, Nils, who is shrunk down to the size of an elf and rides around Sweden on the back of a migrating goose. These geese stop at all of the major locations and Nils has adventures at each place. One of these adventures is the story of the Old Peasant Woman. (more…)

6:30 My boy wakes up on the floor by my bed. He pesters me to get up but I make him wait until 7.

7:00 we get up. I set him up with sesame street, a granola bar, and water. I remind him to be super quiet because sister is sleeping and soon I will be too

7:05 As my head hits the pillow, I think “this is my big chance to pray today” …. zzzzzz…
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When I started this blog, I really had no idea that I was starting anything . . . you know . . . bigger. It was just for me, because I was a bubbling mass of frustrated ideas with no outlet for this churchy gender motherhood crap.

As the youngest of eight children I guess I never really believe that anyone actually listens to me seriously. I had no, err ambition, or something, for setting myself up as an expert on anything, or a leader of anything, or as an important personage of any variety, or level, or something . . . not that I have, right. but . . .

(I really don’t know how to say this. or punctuate it. As you can probably see.) (more…)

Hello. I’m a new convert. I am 28 years old. I have 2 sons, a 7 year old and a 1 year old.

My 7 year old is from a previous relationship. His father is Catholic. Wyatt (the 7 year old) is really excited about the Mormon church. He loves primary and really is into going to church and learning about the prophets,etc.

He told his Dad, “I’m Mormon!” His Dad said, “No, you’re Catholic.” Any suggestions on how to encourage Wyatt when faced with this adversity? Of course being 7 years old, he thinks his father is the greatest man on earth. If he’s Catholic (non practicing) then Wyatt thinks he should be.

My husband is not a member but is very supportive of Wyatt and me being involved. He goes to church with us and is even asking a lot of questions. Please help.

Everyone here can at least imagine how great it feels for a little kid to give you a glittery mother’s day card still dripping with the overuse of elmer’s glue. It’s touching because no matter how badly put together it is, it represents the love that the little tyke feels for you. On the other hand, I can distinctly remember telling my mom that some silly drawing I made was ‘Just for her’ even when it wasn’t because I knew that I would still get a “Oh how nice! Thank you!” even if my drawing was awful. Now perhaps I was an especially manipulative child, but I don’t think I’m that unique. Most people understand that even the worst things can be made wonderful to someone by telling them that you bought, made, or stole it especially for them.

It is for this reason that I am always suspicious when something is touted as being made especially for women. (more…)

Exhibitionism
modeled after “When I am Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple”

When I am a goddess I shall wear nothing
with ivory-peach skin and free toes which pad and don’t clatter.
And I shall spend my hours whirling
in the thin air of alpine meadows
(like Julie Andrews but less nun-like)
and raising goose-flesh on
bare arms at the grocery,
snatching cream pie and Breyers
and say I’ve no need for control top.

And I shall hold my shoulders straight,
ride the luggage return belt at celestial airports
and learn to whistle.

And then I shall fill a four-foot deep
tup with Calgon,
read Ovid and Ibsen,
lie like a cat in the sunshine
without apologies
for dimples and roundness.

And I shall burn barbies and
let my children dance at the flaming;
I shall cradle my guitar at my belly
like an italian lover,
suckle babies at my breasts
and tear those who hurt them.
I shall rename constallations,
ban calculus,
paint my toenails dandelion orange and
sing Tosca on the escalator
between bedding and housewares.

But now I must sort laundry,
match socks and let my nylons squeeze me like pythons.
I will skip double-dutch and braid thistle.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now
so people who don’t know me
are not aghast or offended
when I am a goddess and shed clothes like snakeskin.

Some of you may have noticed the various ads here and there for Dreyers new ‘Slow Churned’ ice cream. They all close with the tagline “One day, all ice cream will be made this way.” This tagline says, in a rather succinct way, that this is the One True Way to make ice cream. It displays an extreme over-confidence in their methods of ice-creamery. While this is good strategy for advertising, it can be a rather distateful way to proselyte for or against personal beliefs and behavoirs.

How many of us have dealt with Mothers-in-Law, older siblings, and presumptuous busybodies that assure us that we’ll eventually come around to their way of thinking, about anything from childcare, to feelings about boys or politics. (And for the record, I *never* ‘came around’ to my sister’s way of thinking about boys. I still think she was nutty.) (more…)

Currently I am reading a very interesting book called Sex and Sensibility, The Thinking Parent’s Guide to Talking Sense about Sex by Deborah Roffman. I’m finding it a fascinating read. (Bit of random trivia: Did you know that teens in Europe have half as many abortions as American teens, they have two to nine times fewer pregnancies, four to twenty-five times lower STI rates, and are on average delaying sexual intercourse for two years compared to their American peers. Interesting.)

Right now I’m reading about Genitality (which I can’t help but think is just a stupid word), the idea being that while the body parts and functions themselves are an important part of sexuality, what is really more important are the meanings we bring to our genital related experiences. Bras, jock straps, underwear, pelvic/prostate exams, circumcision, hymens, wet dreams, pubic hair, tampons, erections, sexual intercourse, pregnancy, labor, contraceptives. While most of us experiance, physically, almost exactly the same things, the personal meanings we bring to them are vastly different. And thus, the meaning we bring to these experiences, rather that the experiences themselves “constitute the essence of our sexuality”. (more…)

This post was originally posted at United Brethren in November 2004. Some additions/edits have been made

An age-long tradition in Britain is the wearing of a red poppy , running up to and on the Sunday closest to the 11th November. On this day we have services to remember those who died in times of war. Wreaths are laid at war memorials on a local and national level. The Queen and Prime Minister pay their respects too. The entire nation observes 2 minutes silence at 11am. It’s always a day that makes me proud of my heritage and proud to be British. (more…)

5:10am Alarm rings. I take a few deep breaths, and finally swing my legs over the side of the bed. I dress for the gym in the dark, take meds and vitamins, and head out the door.

5:30 I arrive at the gym and meet my workout partner. It’s Tuesday, which means we’re doing spin class (Thursdays as well), and MWF we lift weights. I am SO not a gym rat, but I have to do something to counteract all the crap I eat. (more…)

There is a joke that was very popular among my physics department buddies that goes like this:

An engineer, a physicist and a mathematician were all working on a problem late at night smoking a cigarette. They each tossed their smoldering cigarettes in the trashbin and fell asleep, and all three woke to find their trashbins on fire.
The engineer did a rough calculation in his mind to gauge how much water would be needed to put the fire out. He put on twice as much just to be sure and then when the fire was out he went back to bed.
The physicist did a quick calculation in his mind, put the exact amount of water on the fire and when it was out he went back to bed.
The mathematician did a quick calculation in his head, and– satisfied with the results– went back to bed.

Besides liking this joke for the subtle-but-oh-so-satisfying jab at the foolishness of unapplied mathematics, we also liked it for the jab at the frequent, sometimes reckless, ‘padding’ that is common among engineers. (more…)

My maternal grandfather taught my strongest lesson about war. He’s a cattle rancher from Southern Alberta and dreamt of going to college: instead, he donned a uniform and toured Europe with a jeep and a gun. In my youth I somewhat envied the kids whose grandfathers told grand tales of heroic battle–I’ve always been a peacenik, but even a kid can appreciate whupping Hitler’s psychotic arse. I wanted my grandpa to tell me about his heroism, his guts and his glory.

 Finally after an afternoon of enduring my prattle, he said the only words he’d utter to me about the war for another twenty years. Looking me straignt and solemnly in the eyes, he said, “Janet, there was blood on the walls when I went to Dachau.”

Then he walked away.

That sentence burnt itself into my psyche. My grandfather is a hero not just because he served his country and helped clean up the horrors of a concentration camp (his regiment came in after the Americans had liberated it, I believe), but because he understood that, while necessary, the war was not glorious. Victory was glorious. The war was just war–blood, death, and grieving. And he endured that hell. I am incredibly grateful, and today I honor him.

 Here’s some cartoons honoring veterens, if you’re interested.

Following on from (for me anyway) a fascinating read of fictional characters that have influenced/inspired you, I thought I’d find out which people have influenced/inspired you in real life. My idea here is not to be family, friends etc, but people you don’t know - famous or not that have made a lasting impression on you.

For me, the most recent ones are the Amish people who so readily forgave the man who murdered children in their community. It really showed me how silly my held on to grudges are.

Also, for me CS Lewis. One phrase from his book ‘Mere Christianity’ has for a while now, really stuck out. He says:

According to Christan teachers, the essential vice, the utmost evil, is Pride. Unchastity, anger, greed, drunkenness, and all that, are mere fleadbites in comparison: Pride leads to every other vice: it is the complete anti-God state of mind.

So, for real life people - who’s on your list?

Okay, I can’t wait for my wrist to get better. It doesn’t hurt that much at the moment, I’m doped up on Codeine, and I have to rant. Have to. Rant.

I know Democrats are supposed to be happy today, mostly I’m just filled with the dread that they’re going to screw it all up more (but at least the minimum wage will get raised).

But despite my few fleeting moments of dems-control-congress-and-I-have-a-gyrl-crush-on-nancy-pelosi joy, I can’t be happy because I’m totally filled with this burning ball of rage.

It’s my new governor. The stupid drunk man-whore. (more…)

I’ll probably be mostly absent for a week or so. In the morning I’m having my very first surgery, on my sad sad wrist, probably a cyst. Simple stuff, but I’ll probably not feel much like typing for a while.

Be good.

Oh yeah, and vote. (Unless you’re one of them Canadians or some other brand of not American.)

fMhLisa invited me to be a guest blogger here for a couple weeks. So, by way of introduction, I’m Starfoxy. I’ve got one husband, one toddler, one fetus, and one cat. I enjoy children’s books, playing soccer, good cartoons, stargazing, office supplies, and a good gripe every now and then. Questions, if any, may be submitted below.

Everyone knows that it’s after the wedding where the most interesting quirks show up. I can still remember when my husband noticed one of mine. We had just returned from the grocery store, and after putting all the food away I sat down on the couch with the new bottles of shampoo and conditioner and proceeded to carefully peel off the labels. My husband sat and watched me for a minute then asked me what on earth I was doing. I responded, “I don’t like looking at advertisements while I shower.” (more…)

For those of you living in the US, tomorrow is the big day.

And for the first time in, well . . . a very long time, I’m excited to vote. I’m trying not to be excited, I don’t want to set myself for grave disappointment, the races I care about are a dead heat here in Idaho. I can only recall two people that I’ve voted for in the last ten years actually winning an election. (Blue in a Red State could make a good song title, no? I’m so Blueueueue.) And I absolutely abhor the (until very recently a shoe-in) GOP candidate for Governor, he’s a slimey, drunk-driving, wife cheating, wet-lands draining, freakishly-anti-government good ol’ Boy. And my GOP candidate for the House is an Idiot with no social skills (and that’s not my opinion, but rather a paraphrase of his GOP buddies in the State Senate). And then the Gay Marriage Amendment vote’ll be fun.

I have to admit that my bitter side is giddy with delight at the sorry place the Republicans have apparently found themselves this cycle. But then again, if anyone can screw this up, it’s the Democrats. That’s me, Bitter, Cynical, Hopeless, and yet still cautiously giddy. Sigh.

Anyway, how are the elections looking in your stretch of the woods? I’m very interested in hearing from Republicans and Independents, are you planning to vote, and for whom? Do any of the predictions hold true for you?

What follows is a description of one of the days I teach. The days I don’t teach are quite different my schedule is less regimental (i.e. I get less done), I sleep in later, and I do more non-school-related errands. I typically cook and clean (what cleaning I do) on the weekends, following my trip to the farmer’s market. One day a week I go to voice lessons and choir in the evening.

6:00: My first alarm goes off and I hit the snooze button a couple of times.

6:20: My second alarm goes off, and I hit the snooze button once; I finally roll out of bed around 6:35. I hurridly look through the piles of clothing on my floor for some clean (or not too dirty) clothing; I go into the bathroom and put on some makeup, brush my teeth, etc; I locate all of the stuff I need, read a few verses in Alma, and head out the door around 6:55. (more…)

We are not LDS. We moved to Utah (Salt Lake City) 7 years ago and love it. We can’t imagine living anywhere else.

Immediately upon moving here we noticed the Mormon / non-Mormon riff.

At the same time, most of our close friends here are Mormons.

Perhaps even more interesting, my husband is now investigating the church and meeting with missionaries…where I have no interest in the LDS faith, I’m Episcopal – This will be the biggest test of our marriage.

Has anyone been there? Mixed marriage couples when it comes to religion.

east coast girl

Remember, remember, the 5th of November

The Gunpowder Treason and plot;

I know of no reason why Gunpowder Treason

Should ever be forgot.

I’m beginning to think I’m a glutton for holidays. We just had Halloween, or, more accurately, All Hallow’s Eve because it immediately pre-dates All Saints’ Day (Nov. 1) and All Souls’ Day (Nov. 2–today, also called Day of the Dead, which is the funner holiday because it’s more like a Carnival than remembering a bunch of old “canonized” saints (though couldn’t we LDS have a lot of fun with that holiday! we laying claim to being saints, and all)). I think we should celebrate them all. And, in case you missed the latter two of the preceeding three, we have another holiday coming up: Guy Fawkes Night, November el Fifth. Though I realize, as an American, the British may try to disown me from the holiday (Rebecca, you up for a fight?), as I say, I love a reason to celebrate.
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In the spirit of our new series of advice-seeking posts, I find myself in need of advice.

My daughter Buttercup is four years old. Four-year-olds have short memories, right? And they are easily distracted, right?

Right?

Well this is what I’ve been telling myself for six months now, but it turns out I have been wrong. See Buttercup has a best friend, lets call him Pepper. Pepper is a perfectly delightful four-year-old, he loves trains, and dried seaweed, and he loves Buttercup. They’ve made plans to get married and have many dogs.

Unfortunatly, I broke up with Pepper’s mother about six months ago. (more…)