Glenn Beck, promoting his Restoring Honor rally held Saturday at the Lincoln Memorial, 47 years to the day after Martin Luther King spoke there, said: “ . . . we will reclaim the civil rights moment. We will take that movement, because we were the people that did it in the first place!'' I think it is really important to peel back the layers here . . . to get into the specifics, beyond the slogans. So . . . Who is the “we” he is talking about? And who is it that he is taking the . . .
GWO CHEVE: for Haiti, or for spite
Gwo Cheve = Big Hair I think you all know my love for the country of Haiti. I would like to say that this post is an extension of that love. I think that it mostly is. But also . . . . I like getting even with people. And this is an opportunity to get back at one John McHoul for the smack talk from him over our years of visiting Haiti. This man may appear to have at heart of gold at the surface – I mean sure, he has devoted his life to serving the people of Haiti in . . .
how to avoid oversharing in online spaces (keeping it real link-up)
We are officially back in our house after the Great Flood and Exile of 2010. We’ve been a little back and forth over the past week – packing up the hotel room, unpacking boxes at home, escaping to the hotel when there was too much construction going on here, and then retreating to our house at night when it was empty. We’ve all been coughing and hacking from the drywall dust. That or we have mesothelioma from all the asbestos we’ve been living with for the past seven . . .
goodbye, suite life
I won’t miss: The hallway they called a “living room” Sitting in dark silence waiting for the kids to fall asleep Forgetting my key every time I leave the room Lugging our things in from the parking lot The four-foot pool, and fighting with Jafta over why we couldn’t spend all day there Picking out smashed goldfish from the carpet Two active boys bouncing off the walls as I work on my syllabus Trying to shush my loud kids in the hallway Getting the side-eye from the mean blonde lady who . . .
that’s what SHE said: random and potentially offensive to everyone edition
I’m teaching a new class this semester . . . it’s on cultural diversity in psychotherapy practice. I’m really excited about it, but as such, 1) my blogging might be a little light for a while as I prepare, 2) my links about race and ethnicity might amp up a bit, and 3) I will probably be very busy cleaning out the junk drawer, organizing my closet into ROY G. BIV order, and all of the other random, useless things I find to occupy my time when I have a syllabus due. In addition to . . .
the dunes
Yesterday we had our first foray with kayaking as a family of six. You see, Mark and I are in the process of finding new hobbies that we can do as a family. It’s our attempt at trying to feel less trapped limited when we are having family time. . . so that we can try to look forward to our free days with the kids instead of figuring out how to pass the time until they sleep. One thing we've noticed, with all the couples counseling we've been in conducted over the years, . . .
supersize me
I have a confession to make. We've been in the hotel for almost a month now. It is Residence Inn, and they include breakfast and weekday dinners in your stay. The breakfast buffet is a hug spread, with eggs, bacon, sausage, donuts, Belgian waffles, and other assorted excuses for eating cake first thing in the morning. The dinner is like camp food - made for cheap mass consumption and seemingly without a concern in regards to health or "balanced meals". It's . . .
that’s what she said (Blogher edition)
Alright, one last Blogher recap. I know, I know. Last year I remember people talking and talking about the Blogher conference and wishing they would move on already, and here I am blathering on about it for three posts . But I suppose that for many of us, who spend our days in a groundhog's day existence of diapers, swiffering and playdates, that a few days in New York City is a whole lot of excitement and grist for the blogging mill. On Friday, the . . .
homeless: the motel kids of orange county
I'm working on my syllabus this morning for a new class I'm teaching this semester. I've been hunting for an HBO documentary called East of Main: Asians Aloud (which seems to be off the schedule and which I'm desperate to get my hands on, in case anyone happened to record it). Anyways, as I was perusing their documentary listings I came across one film entitled Homeless: Motel Kids of Orange County. As soon as I saw the title, I knew I wanted to see it. I've been . . .
party planes, puke fests, and fondue feuds (blogher days 1 & 2)
In my life, I’ve had a couple variations of recurring stress dreams. One involves me being unable to find something right before a big event (it’s my wedding day and I can’t find a hairdryer, it’s time for prom and I can’t find my dress, etc). Another recurring dream involves me finding out that I am failing a class (in college I took an anthropology class where you could skip the final if you got 100% on the midterm. I did, and then I skipped that the class for the rest of the semester. My . . .
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