The Fox went out on a chilly night

Now back to our regularly scheduled blog....

My original purpose in having this blog site was so I could write about our urban farm experiences as well as our experiences going down the yellow brick road of caring for our parents. Along the way, I have done as I always do, I've taken just about every side road, gravel walk, or dirt pathway possible. You may applaud me for my adventurous spirit, but in reality, I'm just easily distracted or, as a few people would put it, a little dingy.

Long ago, I gave up and realized anyone who knows me or has looked at this blog or my other blog (the first Studio Foxhoven site) knows I will tackle all sorts of subjects. If you've stuck with me this far, you're probably okay with it. I'll trust you.

Today, however, I must give you an update on the Reinhart Family Farm. It's been awhile and a lot has happened. Our population of farm animals is currently: 9 hens and 3 rabbits. That's all. It seems way too quiet out there from what it was just a few days ago when our tally included 2 large female white embden geese. But, at early morning roll call yesterday, the ladies didn't answer and, on further investigation, we found they had fallen victim to a predator.

White embden geese are big. Really big. Generally speaking, foxes steer clear of them because it can be an even match. Our 5 year old grandson, Mattheus, reminded me about the song about the fox who went out on a chilly night and ended up with a goose dinner for his family. So we figure perhaps there was a large fox family with little ones (eight, nine, ten) needing to chew on some bones'o.

While we understand how nature works, it's still a little too quiet back there. We'll miss the geese - and their eggs. Our 3 1/2 year old grandson, Lucien, came with me to look for the last goose egg. Usually, this was his sister's job, but it was pouring rain still and big brother did the chores for her. Lucien also expertly helped to get the hens into their house for the night. We weren't going to take any chances with our hungry fox family around town.

For the Love of Math

Math was never my favorite subject and I wasn't very good at it. But, as an adult, I realized one day that math problems, at least the basics, were easier than any other problems in my life. There's one logical way to solve them and, if I follow the rules, the answer will be correct. No gray area. No debate.

2 + 2 = 4

This revelation hit about the time my oldest child turned two. Parenting is the most humbling job on the planet. We all know this. Most of us start out with such high ideals. We're going to be the best parents and we're going to do everything right - or at least different from what our parents did with us. By the time our kids turn two, most of us just hope they won't end up in therapy some day because of something we said or did.

3 x 1 is 3, 3 x 2 is 6, 3 x 3 is 9

The multiplication tables do what they're supposed to do. They're constant. 3 x 3 never says, oh, today I think I'll be 22. Relationships with numbers are much more reliable than relationships with people. The latter have too many variables. In my first real job, I used to dread when my boss would suddenly become very patient because I knew he was about to forgive me for some mistake HE had made.

-3x + 2y -2z = -10

A math problem with variables can still be solved logically, once you know how. Our political science professor used to tell us over and over, "The easy problems have already been solved". This, of course, leaves us with the difficult, messy, human problems to wrestle with, like poverty and bigotry. There are no easy logical 2 + 2 kind of answers to these problems.

dy/dx = x sin 2x + y tan x, - π/2 < x < π/2

Historically, 2 + 2 has always equalled 4. Math is comforting that way. Other fields of study require constant updating and changing as we learn more about our world, whether it involves the stars and planets or tiny cells in our body.

Historically, we've had to unlearn a lot of things. The earth is not flat nor does is it the center of the universe. The founding fathers did not intend for the US to be a Christian nation, Autism is not childhood psychosis caused by the mother. Homosexuality is not a choice. Poverty is not caused by poor people not knowing how to save money. Hard work doesn't guarantee success - luck is also a factor. Even good relationships have hard times. College degrees don't guarantee a good job. And your mom isn't the perfect mom you always knew she wasn't. She's imperfect in many ways you have yet to discover.

These days, as I am making a thousand little and big decisions daily in regards to my parents, my grandchildren (no, you can't eat all the cookies for lunch), our finances, what to make for dinner, and how to spend my 15 minutes of free time, the idea of a simple problem and simple solution sounds very appealing. It's not there and won't be.

That's probably just as well. If every problem in life had a logical solution, it would be a lot like a math class. I'm too much of an artist to want everything to be logical. I may have learned to appreciate math, but I wouldn't want to go that far.

So Many Different Ways to Be Beautiful

When I was young, my best friend was a little girl named Gina who was quite vocal about how she wished she was a boy. She even wadded up kleenexes and put the wad down the front of her pants because she wanted a penis so badly. I didn't think anything about it. Children usually don't. We had a great time climbing trees and hiking through the wild areas near our neighborhood.

All was fine until I joyfully came home one day and announced to my mom that I was Gina's girlfriend. I was too young to get the icy tone accompanying my mother's response of "what do you mean by that?"  I said that since Gina thought she was a boy and I knew I was a girl, I was Gina's girlfriend. At age 9, friends are friends - period. We had fun together.

We moved to Colorado soon after and I missed Gina and my old neighborhood terribly. Being shy and quiet, entering a new school mid year was torture. I hated it. I wanted to go back to my home and my friends. There was something else, too. My innocent comment had obviously made my mom very nervous. I had never been a "girly girl". I liked climbing and hiking and catching lizards.. I did not like playing with dolls and I hated Barbies. The label of Tomboy was a badge of honor.
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By the time I was in high school, the dress code had changed and, for the first time, I could wear jeans to school. This can't have helped Mom's anxiety about my lack of femininity. At a time when it was stylish to wear old overalls and t-shirts, I was scolded for not wearing nice clothes, not curling my hair properly, and teased for being small breasted.

In my mom's defense, in the 1970s homosexuality was still listed as a mental illness by the American Psychiatric Association. It was also a crime. Scary stuff. She needn't have worried. I am straight. It's just who I am. I could no more make myself lesbian than my lesbian friends could make themselves be straight.

Perhaps it's no wonder I struggled with what it meant to be feminine. I know I wasn't alone, not by a long shot. Struggling with identity and figuring out how to fit in and still be a unique individual is the definition of high school. With the feminist movement of the 1960's and 70's breaking down barriers for women, we were all dazzled with the possibilities ahead of us. It was exciting and overwhelming for us, but must have been puzzling and threatening to some of our parents.

There are still times I hear the voice in my head, letting me know I'm not attractive and not feminine enough, but I can deal with it now. I'm lucky to be married to a wonderful man who doesn't insist on me being a girly girl. In fact, generally when I've felt the most insecure about my identity has been when I have to deal with professional women.

The struggle is okay. It's made me into the weird person I am and hopefully more understanding of others who struggle. I know I've had it easy compared to friends I have in the LGBT community. There is no way I could ever claim to understand what they have gone through. I often wondered if Gina's parents tried to squash her desire to be a boy. Did she get into trouble because of what I said? Was she teased at school? Did anyone try to make her someone she wasn't? Wherever she is and whoever she has become, I hope she knows how much I valued our friendship. I hope she's happy and doing well.

And coming full circle, I have always had close friends who are part of the LGBT community. Now, as I dance with a lovely, inclusive gay square dance club, I realize more and more how comfortable I am with this community. It's a place where everyone is accepted. I delight in seeing one young man occasionally come to a party dance wearing a dress and heels. Actually, I'm totally impressed seeing anyone square dance in heels. And I'm delighted I don't have to.

It's a place where I never hear the voices in my head tell me I'm not attractive and not feminine enough. It's a place where I've learned what my new friends learned long ago: there are so many different ways to be beautiful. Male and female, masculine and feminine are not opposites. They are splotches of many colors on an artist's paint filled palette and often run together, making even more beautiful colors.

"I was not ladylike, nor was I manly. I was something else altogether. 

There were so many different ways to be beautiful.”

~Michael Cunningham -  A Home at the End of the World

My Favorite Strong Female Characters

There are a lot of strong female characters in books, TV, and film. They've always been there, but now I'm noticing them more. At least my daughter notices them and brings them to my attention, characters such as Phryne Fisher from "Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries", Amy Pond from "Dr. Who", Buffy from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer", and others.

I decided to take a look at some of my favorite female characters and why I believe they are strong role models. This task was meant to be an easy blog subject, something I could pound out on the keys in 20 minutes or so...right.

Here are just a few of my favorites:

Margret Lechow - The Ark by Margot Benary-Isbert
     This is a story of post WWII Germany. Mrs. Lechow and her 4 surviving children are refugees in their own country. Margret is the oldest daughter who is dealing with her own grief for her twin brother and working to find her way in a new world with a whole different set of rules and expectations. Margret has a quiet, steady strength about her.

Meg Murray - A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle   ,
     Meg is imperfect, angry at times, insecure about how she looks, and impulsive in her actions. In other words, I can relate to her. In the series of books about her family, Meg works on her own issues while dealing with all sorts of other challenges - like rescuing her father from a distant planet. Despite her issues, and in some ways because of her faults, she is able to save her father and her younger brother from the evil IT... and that's just in the first book.

Emily Pollifax - The Unexpected Mrs. Pollifax, etc by Dorothy Gilman

Wouldn't she have made a great
Mrs. Pollifax?

     Ah, Emily... she's a wonderful role model for women over 50...or 60. What could be better, after being widowed and finding yourself alone and bored, than to become a spy? These stories are very dated, some of the dialogue borders on ridiculous, but I've read every Mrs. Pollifax book written - some twice. Strong woman? Emily volunteers at the hospital gift shop, attends her garden club, and takes Karate classes. There's just enough romance and lots of action.
     There was at least one movie made from these stories, but I didn't like it at all. In the 1971 movie, Mrs. Pollifax is played by Rosalind Russell (His Girl Friday, Aunty Mame). If I had been casting, I would have chosen someone more like Frances Bavier (Aunt Bee from The Andy Griffith Show). This is how I picture Mrs. Pollifax and it makes her more accessible as a role model if the actress is someone a little like the rest of us.

There are many others, of course: Hermione Granger, Phryne Fisher, pretty much any character from a Tamora Pierce novel, Ellis Peters also has strong female characters. For pure fun, I love Thursday Next from the Jasper Fforde novels and Granny Weatherwax from Terry Pratchett's Discworld books. There are too many to list.

My favorite female characters are in stories where there are also strong male characters and they don't build up women at the expense of men or vise versa. I like to see a range of different types of strengths in male and female characters. Women should be able to be warriors, but they don't need to be "like men" to be considered strong. I think this is why Margret Lechow was my first pick.

One female character didn't make the cut:

Charlotte - Charlotte's Web by E. B. White
     Don't get me wrong. I love the book and love the characters. I'm just not sure about Charlotte as a role model. She works and works and works and doesn't even get credit for it. In the end, she dies and all the glory goes to a spoiled, whiney, male pig. Bacon anyone?

Who are your favorites?

Women and Body Image - loving ourselves now, not 5 pounds from now

Even before going to see the movie, “Muffin Top – A Love Story”, the issues of feminism, body image, sexuality, and a woman's right to decide what to do with her body had been on my mind a lot lately. I suspect it has something to do with having a 21-year-old daughter.

“Muffin Top” talks about what it means to be a feminist. Yes, you can still enjoy wearing make-up, coloring your hair, and even getting cosmetic surgery, if this is what you want to do. No, you don't have to buy into the fashion model ideal - which is stupid and impossible. It encourages women to love themselves now, not five pounds from now. I'll add to this, five pounds in either direction. My daughter rounds UP her weight when asked.

It would be nice to say these issues are dated, but they aren't. A few glances to the side bars while cruising the internet includes headlines such as:

“The Sexiest Celebrity Butts” (Guess what? Yep. They're all female)

“Controversial Skinny Pill Hits Nation” (Yep. There's a photo of a woman)

“Ten Women who Aged Horribly” (Really? Says who?)

There are also all those fashion magazines with the impossible models, photoshopped to look like Barbie dolls. The movie, based loosely on Cathryn Michon's book, “The Grrl Genius Guide to Sex (with other people)”, starts off with Cathryn's character, Suzanne, talking to her students in a university class on feminism. Soon after, Suzanne's husband leaves her for a younger, thinner woman and Suzanne is trying to figure out the whole dating scene again.

“Muffin Top” is a low budget film, made by Cathryn and her husband, author Bruce Cameron. Cathryn got her friends involved, women and men who read the script and liked the message. These include actors David Arquette, Marissa Jaret Winokur, Melissa Peterson, Retta, Dot Marie Jones, and delightfully, the late Marcia Wallace, playing herself. Bruce and Cathryn's dog, Tucker, also has a role. It is a fun and very funny movie, only occasionally going a little over the top (okay, it is called Muffin Top so it's appropriate) with scenes such as the ones with the weight loss guru, and becoming downright silly.

For the most part, I think they got their message across. Suzanne's lectures were particularly helpful in this. It did leave me with one thought. I understand the idea of cosmetic surgery being okay... and this is a movie set in Hollywood. However, for most women, cosmetic surgery will never be a choice. It's expensive and insurance doesn't cover it. Most of us need to learn to love our bodies without that option. There are also a lot of us who are feminists who choose not to wear make-up, high heels, or dyed hair. That's okay, too. 

The best part was seeing a feminist film with wonderful funny women, who come in all shapes and sizes, in lead roles, something rare in movies, and hearing a woman tell her story without feeling the need to constantly bash men. The male characters, except for few caricatures, are nice. They don't care about physical appearance nearly as much as the women do. Are we our own worst enemy?

All in all it was a fun romp and definitely worth seeing. It is available through instant download (go to the movie website: muffintopmovie.com) and, if you're lucky, you might be able to catch one of the Red Carpet Premiere showings, as we did.

Who is this Aunt Maribelle?

I had a child in my kindergarten class who was having a wonderful time at nap, dancing around the kindergarten, making noises and generally being such a distraction that no one could rest.  I wasn’t in the classroom during nap time but I would often come down and see this little girl sitting in the front office with our secretary, next door to the kindergarten, because she had been so mischievous.  Somehow, I had to find a way to turn this around.  She was learning very well how to be mischievous but nothing at all about how to rest.  So, the next time I came down and saw her in the office, I picked her up and put her on my lap and told her this story:

“When I was growing up, we used to visit our cousin on the farm and the first thing we did when we arrived on the farm was look for the cats.  We knew that there would be at least one cat that had kittens.  My cousin always knew just where the kittens would be found and soon we would each be happily cradling a kitten on our laps.  Then we would wrap them up in our sweaters (and here I wrapped my sweater around the child) and carry them quietly into the house and play with them in my cousins bedroom.  And we had to keep them very quiet because Aunt Maribelle didn’t allow kittens in the house at all and if she caught us, she would be angry with us and she might even make us scrub the kitchen floor.  So we would put the kittens on our laps and pet their tummies till they fell asleep.  Most of the time they would fall asleep but sometimes a kitten wouldn’t want to sleep and it would meow very loudly!  Then Aunt Maribelle would come and we would have to take the kittens outside again.  And then we’d have to scrub the kitchen floor.”

I then cradled the little girl and carried her back into the classroom and put her on her nap mat.  I whispered quietly in her ear, “Now, be a quiet little kitty so Aunt Maribelle doesn’t hear you.  I don’t want to scrub floors today.”

Two weeks later, the girl’s mother came to me and said, “WHO IS THIS AUNT MARIBELLE??!!”  Every day for two weeks, her daughter would come home and say to her mom, “I was a quiet kitty at nap today and Aunt Maribelle didn’t even know I was there!”

My Aunt Maribelle enjoyed the story, too.

"Now, I don't want to alarm you, but..."

I'm sure those words were meant to keep me calm. I hadn't started to panic because I really wasn't sure what to panic about, but I'll have to admit, those words had caused a small alarm to go off in my brain, even if it was just because I didn't know what he was going to say next, and especially since, HE was a police dispatcher at the other end of the phone line.

The day started off with such promise, really it did. My friend, Marie, had offered to help me pack up things at my parent's house and I was looking forward to the company. We stopped at Starbucks to fuel up for the job ahead and got a couple of sweet rolls, just in case we needed something to sustain us through the morning.

My goal today was to get most of the kitchen packed up, find some of the items my parents needed at their new apartment, and take the old rifle bullets we found in my dad's office down to the city police station. No problem. 

Until we found the tear gas in the back of the kitchen drawer.

I didn't know what a tear gas container looks like and I wouldn't have known what this was, had it not been for the paper wrapped around the canister and labeled with my dad's handwriting: "Caution, military tear gas". Actually, the writing looked nothing like that because it was my dad's handwriting and almost illegible, but I've had lots of practice reading his grocery lists in the last six months and I figured it out quickly.

From my last article on this blog, you know what I think of guns and weapons. My only goal at this point was to get rid of it as safely and as quickly as possible. I put it in the box with the old rifle bullets and we drove down to the local constabulary. Somehow I assumed I could just walk in, hand it to someone, and walk out. I was wrong. 

"You'll need to call the dispatcher." The woman behind the glass pointed to a black phone on the opposite wall, "They'll send an officer to pick it up."

I did as I was told and told the dispatcher what I needed. A moment of silence. 

"So, you have this in your car?"

"No, I have it with me."

"You.. have it with you... in the building?"

"Yes," I said firmly. 

That's when he said, "Now, I don't wish to alarm you, but...(long dramatic pause)... you need to go outside and wait by your car. An officer will meet you there." He went on to explain to me about how tear gas can become unstable and he didn't want to chance having it go off in the lobby of the police station. He also took my name and asked where I was parked.

So I went back out and explained the situation to Marie. She was supportive. 

"I figured if you weren't out in 30 minutes, I'd go in and post bail."

After about ten minutes, an officer came and asked to see what I had brought. I started to hand the box to him and he backed away, saying, "I can't take it right now, I just want to see it." So I opened the box and showed him the bullets and the bag with the canister. 

"I'm sorry," he said, "We're not allowed to dispose of tear gas. We'll have to call the bomb squad."

So, we waited and waited some more, all the while Marie made comments on how the police obviously would be watching me, they probably already had a file on me, and how they'd probably search the car.

"It's okay," I said, "it's not like I have any dru... oh shit." I had forgotten about the trash bag filled with expired prescription drugs in the trunk of my car. I hadn't yet figured out how and where to dispose of them. There were even a few... narcotics... in there.

We laughed till we cried and then got hungry and debated whether or not to call and have a pizza delivered to the police station parking lot. We decided against it when we realized we'd have to explain the possibility of the pizza delivery person encountering the bomb squad.

Eventually the officer returned and said he'd talked with the bomb squad and since this was a small container of tear gas, it was okay for the officer to take it.

"It's military strength," he informed us, "It could stop a bear."

Which leads me to the one question I forgot to ask my dad when I told him the story.

Why?

I'll be on the safe side and assume they had a bear infestation at some point and needed to keep them out of the kitchen. Anything else, I'm not sure I want to know.